#I don’t normally work painting only on one layer but used this study to test out some new brush’s

[sarahfarinaillustration]

timelapse of this painting all done on one layer bc I’m a psycho

[cassandrium360]

A Million Miles Away

So I've always loved royalty stories, but one thing that's always bothered me is that the 'reluctant ruler' always ends up taking the throne. Well... what if they just weren't right for the role, and couldn't take the pressure? That's how this story was born.

Varian is a prince here, but his heart isn't in it, and Cass is his guard who's only been given the role because he fought for her. Hope you enjoy! Also, to be clear,  Varian is near nineteen here!!

--

Varian slowly let out a breath he had kept locked in his chest far too long. He squeezed his eyes shut, focusing all his attention on the slow drawl of his breaths. One after the other, in a rhythmic sort of way. He let the cool darkness relax him for a moment. Here, he could almost pretend he was alone. Like things were normal. Free.

A thud sounded from the room he stood in all too quickly, bringing him back to where he stood surrounded by servants. He glanced over to where one of them was busy picking up a tray of pins they had knocked over in their hasty preparations. In all honesty, Varian didn’t know why they were working so fervently, after all, the ball wouldn’t be for hours, right?

He was drawn from his thoughts once more by the soft clearing of a throat, the man standing to his right motioning for him to lift his arm to the side. Varian did as he was told, sighing as he felt the quick motions of the needle putting the finishing pieces onto his outfit. His gaze flicked over to the window, and not for the first time he wished someone would open it.

The room felt suffocatingly hot, and him having stood in place for the batter part of an hour did nothing to satiate that. The dull sunlight of late afternoon lazily flickering through the sparse tops of some rich pine trees. These were the times when he envied the guards and servants. True, they may not have had as much freedom as most, but it was still leagues more than him. They were free to walk the grounds unattended whenever they pleased, to chase any dream that called out to them without a thought back.

The girl who had knocked over the tray then stepped in front of him, obscuring his view of the outside world entirely. She began working on his hair, no doubt trying to tame the unruly mess he knew it to be. He watched as she pulled out a few sizes of combs, continuing her musings.

He vaguely heard the snap of the thread being broken, signalling the end of the incessant work on his suit. He rested his aching arm back down at his side, smiling slightly as his appearance was finally deemed acceptable.

He offered them all a smile on their way out, it falling from his face the minute the deep oak door thudded shut. He was finally alone, which seemed an increasingly rare occurrence these days. He moved slightly towards his bed, considering just throwing himself onto it. He slowly let out a bated breath, thinking better of damaging the appearance the castle’s servants had worked so hard to create.

Varian let his eyes run aimlessly around the large room, finally allowing them to rest on the mirror standing in the corner. He carefully made his way over to it, frown deepening as he took in the sight painted before him. The suit was grand, his hair was perfect.... but the person he saw standing before him was entirely unknown to him. His gaze widened as his eyes traced up the length of the stiff fabric to his hair.

His hairstripe. They had pinned it back, or more specifically, beneath the other ‘normal’ parts of his hair. The one thing about his appearance he thought no one could change, try as they might to hide it.

Varian’s shoulders lowered, his eyes moving to the ground, noticing nothing as they landed there. He was a fraud. They wanted a prince who would love these customs. Who would stand as tall as they asked him to. Who didn’t need to be hidden beneath layers of delicately crafted lies to be impressive.

He clenched his fists, pushing back the soft tears that nodded at the back of his eyes, unwilling to let them fall. “I’m sorry father,” he whispered to himself, bringing his arms to wrap around his torso. Why couldn’t he just be the strong leader his people deserved? He didn’t even know why he was crying! Over a hairstyle? Over a little annoyance like having to be dressed? The king would shake his head in shame if he could see him like this. And for good reason too, Varian deserved his father’s disapproval. His heart wasn’t in this, and the kingdom, his father, knew it. After all, his words from a few weeks awhile still rang true...

——

Varian coughed slightly, waving away the small cloud of smoke that has resulted from an overheated test tube before him. “Alright,” he spoke to himself, “Lower the temperature... maybe a little less sulphur?” he breathed, hastily scribbling those thoughts into his notebook.

The spark of the flame as a new test tube was rested above it reflected in his eyes as he carefully lifted a cut slice of the metal to add to his experiment. He moved his face back as he released the chemical, mentally crossing his fingers that it wouldn’t trigger an explosion this time; the last thing he needed was the guards he knew lurked just beyond the door to burst in here.

He pumped his fist in the air as the metal easily dissolved, the colour moving to a slightly darker one as it did. “Finally!” He said, excitedly marking the experiment as a success on the long worn paper. He couldn’t contain the smile on his face, eyes sparkling with new ideas to test with his compound with as he moved to his shelf, eyes scanning the labels for what he needed.

The door opened suddenly, the noise startling Varian slightly, pulling him from his plans for a second. “Oh, father,” he said, his smile leaching into his voice. “You wouldn’t believe it! The compound I’ve been trying to crack for weeks, it finally progressed! Turns out all I needed was a little more...” his ramblings were cut off by a raise of the king’s hand.

Varian dropped his hands to his sides at his father’s disinterest, looking up at the older man for what he had to say that was important enough for him to come down to Varian’s lab in the middle of the day. He could count the times his father had had entered there on his hands, despite him spending countless hours there since he had been a small child.

“Son, you’re eighteen now. In a few years you’ll be ready to take the throne.” He began, voice leaving no room for questioning. Something Varian guessed would prove useful as king. “The guard informed me of some... accidents that happened down here.”

Varian opened his mouth to assure his father they were nothing, but was cut off once again by his father’s outstretched hand. “You’re far too reckless, Varian. Don’t you think our people deserve a king who dedicates his time to learning ways to help them rather than silly projects like this?” he said, gesturing slightly to the room before him.

“But that’s the thing, dad! These experiments can help your people! If you would just give me a little more time to...” he said, all excitement ended by his father heavily resting his hand on the younger boy’s shoulder. Varian drew his eyes nervously up to meet his father’s stern gaze, fearing the disappointment he knew he would find there.

“I’ve allowed you far too much time out into this already. It’s time for you to grow up; take your future seriously, and our peoples’ future as well. No more distractions.” Quirin finished, turning to make his way back out of the room.

——

Varian remembered the feeling that had clawed at his chest at those words. He hadn’t cried. He knew he didn’t deserve to. What his father said felt like a knife shoved into his side, but he couldn’t debate the truth they wielded.

He remembered falling to the floor, world spinning, as the words slammed through his mind over and over again. His chest had shaken, but no tears came, and for that he had been glad. What his father said had opened a wound he had fought so long to ignore, and one that he hadn’t been able to since.

He would be a terrible king. The people deserved someone who would rule them with fairness and passion. Someone who deserved the life of luxury handed to him. Someone entirely like his father, and just the opposite of him. Yet here he was, sculpted into the image of a perfect prince that he would never have been able to attain on his own. He was a fraud.

A knock sounded at his door, the firm rasp bringing him from his thoughts quickly. “Sir, the guests are waiting on your entrance.” Came an unfamiliar voice from beyond his sight.

Varian quickly scrubbed any remaining fragments of tears from his eyes, “Just a moment,” he said, voice wavering despite his best efforts to steady it. He stole one last glance into the mirror, taking in his red eyes and perfect clothes. “Come on Var, be the king they deserve.”

He strode confidently, or as close of a semblance as he could muster, over towards the edge of his room. He could do this. Despite how much it hurt, he could put aside his passions for his people. He could study hard, work with his father, become worthy of the crown he would soon be handed. One step at a time.

If he repeated those words long enough, maybe they’d somehow come true.

——

Sooner than he would’ve liked, Varian found himself standing before the entrance to the ballroom. He had been here dozens of times before; the elaborate oak doors would be pushed aside, and he would come in at the top of a grand set of stairs at the head of the room.

He knew exactly what to expect, yet he still found himself trying to slow the breaths that always seemed to speed up before events like this. He knew that hundreds of eyes would fall on him alone the second that barrier was removed, it should have gotten easier by now, but perhaps it would be something he’d never adjust to.

Varian allowed himself to shut his eyes for a moment, steeling himself for the night ahead as he heard the announcer introduce him. This was it; too late to run. He forced himself to draw in a deep breath, however hasty it may have been. He was meant to be a model of confidence, reassuring to all in attendance... yeah, right. He just had to get past the entrance.

The doors were pushed aside by men in suits much more simple than the one he wore, and he took a shaky step forward, the light of the party pouring out over his thin frame as he came to the top of the stairs. He opened his eyes, all noise ceasing as the nobility crowding the room turned to face him.

Varian felt his heart begin to quicken, breaths clawing to get out his chest, yet only shallow ones would come. He pulled at the edge of his jacket nervously, forcing his vision to remain steady despite the hundreds of colours blurring indistinguishably together. He could feel the hundreds of eyes rested upon him, boring into him as he stood there.

His mind screamed at him, a mix of fears and rules slamming together in a wave of thoughts that he couldn’t think enough to understand at the moment. He had to do something. He urged himself to take a step forward, towards the crowd, but he found his feet unmoving. His eyes darted around the room at such a speed he couldn’t process anything he was seeing, until finally, they landed on the familiar face of his father towards the edge of the crowd.

Guilt crashed into his chest, knocking any breath that had been held there previously far away from his grasp. Not knowing what else to do, Varian ran.

He turned, ignoring the protests of the doormen, running as fast as his burning legs and aching chest would carry him back down the dark corridor. He ran through the halls at a speed he hadn’t known he was able to, finding himself unable to breathe within the suffocating walls of the palace.

He noticed a large glass door, shoving it out of his way with as much force as he could, relishing in the sudden cool of the night air pressing against his skin.

He took in a deep breath of the air that was far from stuffy, leaning into the rail of the balcony he had stepped on to. His head pounded as he stood there, looking out at the palace grounds below. He looked over to the palace wall; the walls in which he had lived his life, and felt tears come to his eyes much more quickly than they had before.

The hot tears poured down his face, shaking his chest with the silent sobs as they did. His ribs pressed hard against the carved stone. He couldn’t do this. Live this lie that he had convinced himself he was cut out for. He couldn’t pretend he was what the people wanted - needed -, couldn’t force himself to become what his father wanted. He wanted freedom. From the guards, the servants, from the pressure he couldn’t bear any longer.

He rested for a moment, revelling in the still night air surrounding him, gently rustling his still styled hair. He felt his heart rate slow as he stood there, his sobs softening into streams of tears which he didn’t care to control. Varian watched as they dripped onto his hands, gripping the railing as if it were a lifeline.

He heard the door hit lightly against the wall as someone stepped out onto the balcony, no doubt sent to return him to the ball. His blurry gaze remained on his hands as he heard soft footsteps trailing closer to him.

“Evening, your royal highness,” she said lightly, moving to stand next to him, “That was some entrance you made back there.”

“Cassie.” His shoulders released an unknown tension as he realized it was her, rather than some other guard. His frown only deepened however, “Have you ever...” he began, shaking his head to cut himself off. He wasn’t sure he had words to describe what he was feeling anyway.

“Have I ever...?” She prompted, lightly bumping her shoulder against his as she waited for him to speak. Varian would never be able to express his gratitude to her for their friendship. She didn’t treat him as if he were leagues away from her as the other workers in the palace did, and she never pushed him to speak quickly as his father did. She simply let him... exist. Whatever way he wanted to.

“Have you ever felt... trapped?” He said, teary voice breaking on the last word. He watched her pause for a moment at that, and almost regretted saying it. It was dumb, she wasn’t held by pressures the same way he was, he should never have even asked. But he trusted her opinion, and couldn’t bring himself to retract it.

“I did. For a long time. Until you changed that,” she said, glancing towards the star dotted sky hanging high above them. “You fought for my place here. No one would... I was trapped by their expectations of me; of what I should be - not exactly the lady everyone hoped for - and because of that, they thought they knew who I was, what I could do.” She said, breathing out a heavy sigh at that. “You changed all of that. Heck, I’m surprised you didn’t get disowned, stepping out of place like that, demanding the guard give me a shot… I’m not sure how many people see who I really am, but at least one scrawny scientist does.”

She turned to face him at that, a soft smile pulling at her lips as she swiftly pulled the pins out of his hair, blue stripe falling in front of his eyes in one motion.

Varian couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh at that, tight smile on his lips too as he lifted his eyes to finally meet hers. A scientist. He never thought being called something other than what he was could feel so... freeing. His heart leapt at the thought of what could be possible if it were true, if he wasn’t destined to be prince.

That thought didn’t last long though as he saw another set of guards pass by the open door, the harsh light of the hallway spilling out into the night, “Thank you, I’m just- I can’t...” he trailed off, voice breaking as he spoke. He couldn’t do this any longer. Tonight he would leave. Leave the castle, leave this life, everything. For good.

Cass simply squeezed his shoulder, offering him a reassuring smile, “I better get back to the party before they notice I’m missing; take your time coming back,” she said, slowly turning back towards the palace.

“Goodbye, Cassie,” he whispered, and if she faltered slightly at that, Varian didn’t notice.

——

Varian’s vision was blurred, tears trailing down his face. His chest shook slightly, refusing to fully give in to the sobs that threatened to overtake him. The teardrops fell onto his shaking hands as he quickly shoved some clothes into a cloth bag.

This decision was the only one he had ever been sure of. He should feel relieved, he would be passing his duties as prince off to someone who would do them justice, would be able to help the people better than he could ever dream of. But he felt only fear moving through his veins with each slam of his heart against his chest.

He didn't have a plan. Didn't know where to go, what to say. The rational part of his brain told him to wait, to bother thinking this through. But Varian quickly shoved that notion aside. He couldn't stand the pressure the crown pushed against his head for another day. Leaving it behind would be the best for everyone.

He set down the shirt he held in his grasp. “I’m doing the right thing,” he whispered, tears slowing at the words. Not an ounce of him doubted it, which was strange for an over thinker like him. He let his breathing flow back to normal as he paused for a moment. He was finally free of the lie he had worn for so long.

His eyes shot open at the sound of his door handle clicking, Varian furiously rubbing the trails of tears in a desperate vie to make them disappear as he whirled around to face the noise. His heart spiked for a moment as he subconsciously stepped in front of the bag he had been packing, belongings strewn about beside it.

“Where are you going?” Cass said, voice less confused than Varian had expected as she spoke. She gestured to the mess behind him, eyes concerned as they ran over his reddened face.

He shouldn't have been surprised it was her; it was always her. That, and the fact that no one else would dare step into his room without being invited first. He had always been glad that she ignored formalities when everyone else had their gaze turned. It made him feel like he could break free of the string that held him back.

Varian shook his head, quickly jumping back into the conversation at hand. “Cass! Uh- nowhere. Just, y’know, a bit of cleaning!” He motioned to the science supplies set gently on his silk pillow, “Getting rid of this stuff, focusing more, just like dad said!”

He pursed his lips at the way his sentences had all rushed together, words stumbling into each other in a clumsy manner. He glanced up at her, the expression highlighted by her raised brows confirming his suspicions that she had seen right through him. Maybe he had just gotten used to letting her see past his front.

“You’re a horrible liar, hairstripe,” she said, crossing the space between them. The slight smile dropped off her face as she continued, “So that’s what this is about? Your dad?”

He shut his eyes, turning his head away from her. The room fell silent for a long moment, the only sound being Varian’s heartbeat, which overwhelmed his ears the longer he stood.

“I can’t.” His voice cracked at the small truth, tears slowly growing behind his eyelids. “I’m, I’m just not cut out to be king. I’m wrong for this- all of it! I can’t just stay here locked in this… this cage-” His eyes all too quickly flew open as he threw his arm out to the room in front of him, “-until I screw up so badly it can’t be fixed.”

A beat passed as Cass rested her hand on his shoulder gently. “I don't want this life. It isn’t me,” he said, voice lowering into a whisper as he finally dragged his light blue eyes up to meet hers.

She took a step back from him, moving over to cast a glance out the large window across the room. Varian wiped at his eyes once again, the space next to him feeling cold in her absence. His heart skipped as he watched her, hoping she wasn't about to stop his plan before it began. A small part of him nagged he could trust her more than that, but his tired mind couldn't focus on that in the moment.

“The ball’s ending, guards are still posted outside,” she said, carefully pushing the thick red curtain aside as she peered down to the courtyard below. “They’ll be off duty just before dawn, we’ll leave then,” she said definitively, finally moving to face him.

“We?” he asked, mind still racing to piece together her words.

She smiled towards him, “You think I’m going to let you go on this adventure without me?”

Varian’s heart swelled at her words. He allowed himself to breathe in the relief at the prospect of not taking this journey alone for a second, before quickly snapping back into the present. He forcefully shook the thought from his mind, guilt already piling onto him for considering it. “I can’t let you do this, Cassie,” he said, voice too quiet. He let out a shaky breath, “You have a whole life here, you can’t just throw that away.” He cut himself off before the ‘for me” could slip past his lips.

She rolled her eyes at that, the usual commitment behind the action missing. “I’m barely a low ranking guard. Even the new recruits get more responsibilities than me. They only…” she trailed off, eyes shining as she shook her head. She turned her attention to her glove, tugging at the edge of the dark fabric as she gathered her next sentence. “Wherever we end up, I’ll find a guard that lets me earn my place.”

Varian could feel his resolve crumbling as she spoke, guilt dripping away as quickly as it had appeared. She wanted this too. Maybe they were more similar than he had thought before tonight. “But your dad-” he started weakly, digging the toe of his boot into the carpet beneath it.

“-Will be fine,” she finished, “I’ll explain in a note, he’ll be glad I’m chasing my destiny. Besides,” She stepped closer to him, “There’s no rule saying we can’t eventually come back. Who knows where our path’ll lead.”

Varian smiled up at her, this one genuine as it poured into his eyes, moving in the place tears had been not long before. This would be a new beginning. One both of them had been waiting years for.

“Now finish packing. I’ll meet you back here at first light,” she said, taking a step towards the still open door, flickering torch light signalling the way.

“Cassie?” he said, causing her to pause for a breath. “Thank you.” He pressed a quick kiss to her cheek, nervous smile still more genuine than he had worn in as long as either of them could remember. Their eyes remained connected for longer than either fully realized, both wordlessly sharing dreams of their new path, glad to have someone to travel it with.

“Any time, your highness.” Her lips wore a soft smile as she slipped back down the hallway.

[newstfionline]

Saturday, December 26, 2020

Getting creative to help the homeless (AP) After three years on the streets, Tiecha Vannoy and her boyfriend Chris Foss plan to weather the pandemic this winter in a small white “pod” with electricity, heat and enough room for two. Portland this month assembled neat rows of the shelters, which resemble garden sheds, in three ad-hoc “villages”—part of an unprecedented effort unfolding in cold-weather cities nationwide to keep people without permanent homes safe as temperatures drop and coronavirus cases surge. “We just get to stay in our little place. We don’t have to leave here unless we want to,” said Vannoy, wiping away tears as they moved into the shelter near a downtown train station. “It’s been a long time coming. He always tells me to have faith, but I was just over it.” ... “Those (are) folks who would under normal circumstances maybe come into a drop-in center to warm up, or go into the subway to warm up, or go into a McDonald’s to warm up—and just not having those options available to them. What then?” asked Giselle Routhier of the Coalition for the Homeless in New York City.

Raise your mittens: Outdoor learning continues into winter (AP) Cindy Soule’s fourth graders in Maine’s largest city have studied pollination in a community garden. They solved an erosion problem that was damaging trees. They learned about bear scat. Then came a fresh layer of snow and temperatures that hovered around freezing—but her students were unfazed. Bundled up and masked, they scooted outside with their belongings in buckets. They collected their pencils and clipboards, plopped the buckets upside down in the snow, took a seat and went to work. The lesson? Snow, of course, and how snowflakes are formed. Schools nationwide scrambled to get students outdoors during the pandemic to keep them safe and stop the spread of COVID-19. Now, with temperatures plummeting, a smaller number of schools—even in some of the nation’s most frigid climes—plan to keep it going all winter long, with students trading desks in warm classrooms for tree stumps or buckets.

Explosion in Nashville that damaged 20 buildings, injured 3 people an ‘intentional act’ (USA Today) Authorities believe an explosion that occurred in downtown Nashville early Christmas morning and was felt for miles was an “intentional act” sparked by a vehicle. Police responded to reports of a suspicious vehicle parked outside the AT&T building just before 6 a.m. Upon arrival, police said an officer “had reason” to alert the department’s hazardous devices unit, which was en route, when a “significant explosion” happened. Three people were hospitalized with injuries, police said. At least 20 buildings were damaged, Nashville Mayor John Cooper said. The sound of the explosion could be heard from miles away, and people reported windows shaking from South and East Nashville. “It looks like a bomb went off,” Cooper said. The downtown area will be “sealed off” for further investigation and to make sure everything is “completely safe.”

US to require negative COVID-19 test from UK travelers (AP) The United States will require airline passengers from Britain to get a negative COVID-19 test before their flight, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention announced late Thursday. The U.S. is the latest country to announce new travel restrictions because of a new variant of the coronavirus that is spreading in Britain and elsewhere. Airline passengers from the United Kingdom will need to get negative COVID-19 tests within three days of their trip and provide the results to the airline, the CDC said in a statement. The agency said the order will be signed Friday and go into effect on Monday. “If a passenger chooses not to take a test, the airline must deny boarding to the passenger,” the CDC said in its statement. The agency said because of travel restrictions in place since March, air travel to the U.S. from the U.K. is already down by 90%.

Many just want a hug for Christmas this year, Queen Elizabeth says (Reuters) All many people want for Christmas this year is a simple hug, Britain’s Queen Elizabeth said in her annual festive message, saying it would be hard for those who lost loved ones to COVID-19 pandemic or were separated by curbs on social mixing. In her traditional pre-recorded Christmas Day address to the nation, the 94-year-old monarch repeatedly spoke of hope for the future whilst acknowledging millions of Britons would be unable to have their usual family celebrations this year. “Of course for many, this time of year will be tinged with sadness; some mourning the loss of those dear to them, and others missing friends and family members distanced for safety when all they really want for Christmas is a simple hug or a squeeze of the hand,” Elizabeth said. “If you are among them, you are not alone. And let me assure you of my thoughts and prayers.” “Remarkably, a year that has necessarily kept people apart has in many ways brought us closer,” said the queen, adding the royals had been inspired by stories of those who volunteered to help others in need. “In the United Kingdom and around the world, people have risen magnificently to the challenges of the year and I’m so proud and moved by this quiet indomitable spirit.”

For the European Union, It’s a Pretty Good Deal (NYT) The European Union emerges from fraught negotiations with Britain over its exit from the bloc with a sense of satisfaction—that it has maintained its unity and its core principles, especially the integrity of the single market of now 450 million consumers that is the foundation of its influence. And it is now looking ahead to its life without Britain. The final deal is a free-trade agreement that recognizes Britain’s desire to leave the single market and the customs union while preserving tariff-free, quota-free trade in goods with the European Union. To that end, Britain agreed to a mechanism, with arbitration and possible tariffs for violations, that would keep its regulations and subsidies roughly in line with those of Brussels, to prevent unfair competition. But the deal will require inspections of goods to prevent smuggling. The deal also covers many mundane but crucial matters of visas, health insurance, and air, rail and road travel. It treats Northern Ireland, which is part of the United Kingdom, as within the E.U. customs area to prevent the need for a hard border on the island, but requires some checks on goods going from Britain to Northern Ireland. And the deal reallocates fishing areas and quotas, given that Britain is now an independent coastal state.

Pope Francis celebrates low-key Christmas Eve Mass amid coronavirus restrictions (Fox News) Pope Francis celebrated Christmas Eve Mass on Thursday night amid coronavirus restrictions that reduced a normal crowd of as many as 10,000 congregants to a group of fewer than 100 people, according to reports. During his homily, the Roman Catholic leader urged followers to reach out to the needy, noting that Jesus Christ was considered an outsider. “The Son of God was born an outcast, in order to tell us that every outcast is a child of God,” the pope said. May the Child of Bethlehem help us, then, to be generous, supportive and helpful, especially towards those who are vulnerable, the sick, those unemployed or experiencing hardship due to the economic effects of the pandemic, and women who have suffered domestic violence during these months of lockdown,” he said.

Turkey debates law that would increase oversight of NGOs (Reuters) Turkey’s parliament began debating a draft law on Friday that would increase oversight of non-governmental organisations and which, according to rights campaigners, risks limiting the freedoms of civil-society groups. The government says the measure, covering “foundations and associations”, aims to prevent non-profit organisations from financing terrorism and to punish those who violate the law. Civil-society groups, including Amnesty International and the Human Rights Association, said terrorism charges in Turkey were arbitrary, and that the draft law would violate the presumption of innocence and punish those whose trials were not finalised.Investigations based on terrorism charges have been launched against hundreds of thousands of people under a crackdown following a failed coup in 2016. Hundreds of foundations were also shut down with decrees following the coup attempt.

Half of Russians sceptical Kremlin critic Navalny was poisoned (Reuters) Half of Russians believe that Kremlin critic Alexei Navalny was either not poisoned, as he and Western governments contend, or that his poisoning was stage-managed by Western intelligence services, a poll showed on Thursday. The poll, released by the Levada-Center, shows how hard it remains for Navalny to shape public opinion in Russia even as his case attracts wide media attention in the West and his own slickly-produced videos of what happened to him this summer rack up millions of views online. Navalny, one of President Vladimir Putin’s most outspoken critics, was airlifted to Germany for medical treatment in August after collapsing on a plane in Russia. Germany has said he was poisoned with a Soviet-style Novichok nerve agent in an attempt to murder him, an assertion many Western nations accept. The poll by Levada, which is regarded as more independent than state counterparts, showed only 15% of Russians believed what happened to Navalny was an attempt by the authorities to rid themselves of a political opponent. By contrast, 30% thought that the incident was stage-managed and that there was no poisoning, and 19% said they believed it was a provocation orchestrated by Western intelligence services.

Hong Kong street refrigerator keeps giving (AP) Most people who head to Woosung Street in Hong Kong’s old-school neighborhood of Jordan are visiting its popular restaurants serving everything from curries to seafood. Others may be headed for a lone refrigerator, painted blue, with a sign that reads: “Give what you can give, take what you need to take.” The door of the fridge sitting outside a hockey academy opens to reveal it is stuffed with packets of instant noodles, biscuits, tins of food and even socks and towels for anyone who may need them. Ahmen Khan, founder of a sports foundation on the same street, said he was inspired to create a community refrigerator after seeing a film about others doing the same thing. He found the refrigerator at a nearby refuse collection point and painted it blue. “It’s like a dignity, that when you go home, you open your fridge to get food,” Khan said. “So I want the people to just feel like that. Even if it’s a street, it’s their community, it’s their home, so they can simply just open it and then just put food there, and collect the food.” Khan’s blue refrigerator project went viral on social media and people have been dropping by to leave food inside.

Israeli jets fly over Beirut, explosions reported in Syria (AP) Israeli jets flew very low over parts of Lebanon early Friday, terrifying residents on Christmas Eve, some of whom reported seeing missiles in the skies over Beirut. Minutes later, Syria’s official news agency reported explosions in the central Syrian town of Masyaf. Other Syrian media said Syrian air defenses responded to an Israeli attack near the town in the Hama province. The Syrian Ministry of Defense issued a statement saying Israel “launched an aggression by directing a barrage of rockets” from the north of the Lebanese city of Tripoli towards the Masyaf area. Israeli jets regularly violate Lebanese airspace and have often struck inside Syria from Lebanese territory. But the Christmas Eve flights were louder than usual, frightening residents of Beirut who have endured multiple crises in the past year, including the catastrophic Aug. 4 explosion at the city’s port that killed over 200 people and destroyed parts of the capital.

[knightowl725]

Healing in a Graveyard

Fandom: Critical Role

For Fjorclay Week 2020′s Modern AU Prompt - a day early because I wrote something very short for today’s actual prompt and got super excited about this one. More chapters to follow.

Read on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23828932/chapters/57258880

Chapter One: Just For A Few Days

Fjord had never expected to agree when Beau and Jester first dragged him to see the place. The Blooming Grove.

“It’s a big house near campus,” Jester told him. “They’re very friendly to students, and the prices are very reasonable. Molly said there were lots of empty rooms they want to rent out.”

“Yeah, but it’s in a graveyard,” Fjord reminded her. She ignored him.

"We'll all have rooms near each other and share meals and hang out.”

"If our rooms are next to each other, we can learn morse code and tap messages!" Beau exclaimed, and that one got to him. So he went along to take a look at the place. Yasha and Molly were already living there, and it was Molly that showed them around in the absent landlord’s stead.

Fjord said no at first. He was with Avantika and her crew. He'd gotten in with Avantika early on, when it all first became overwhelming. Classes and a part time job, topped with the social pressures of a smaller school, it was all too much. Avantika had found him then, drawn him in and all but fed him to that…

If he was honest he'd just call it a cult. Like Jester's Traveler but instead of lighthearted mischief it was promising your eternal devotion and doing some mildly illegal shit. They found him at his lowest and made him feel wanted, welcome. Like he was family.

An entire year and some had gone by. And Fjord was getting thinner, more tired, more drawn out every day.

Beau burst into his room one day after class. He was living in a house with the rest of Avantika’s group, The Champions, in a room he shared with three other people. It was a cramped house, and it ate up all the money he made at his part-time job. But that was the price you paid to be family. A Champion.

No one else was home right now, off under Avantika’s guidance to do something in their snake god’s honor. Fjord still felt shivers every time they said its name. 

A rap on his window jolted him upright, books strewn around him on the bed. He went to the window to find Beau crouched outside it, perched on a part of the roof that met the house under his window.

He unlocked the window and flung it open. “Beau! What are you--”

She slid into the room past him. “Intervention!”

“Inter--”

“The semester is nearly over,” she said, starting to wander around the room, piling up his books and school supplies. “There’s only a few weeks left, tons of tests and shit. You said yourself that these...freaks or whatever...are distracting you, and you’re this close to losing your scholarship.”

“Yeah, bu--”

“They take all your money, force you to work with them, act super controlling all the time, and now you can’t even study.”

“They let me miss out today to stud--”

Beau found his duffel bag and began shoving books into it. “You’re staying with me for a few days. Just a few days! Swear. You need to get out of this creepy house--”

“And into the graveyard?’

She gave him a pointed look. “Isn’t it saying something that the graveyard isn’t half as creepy?”

He rolled his eyes, and she went on, “You’re getting a break, dude. You need it. Everyone agrees. We’re intervening and forcing it.”

“Beau--”

“Just a few days,” she insisted, a little softer. “Hang out with your friends, focus on school, then you’ll be back in this shithole selling your soul to whatever like you always dreamed.”

She shoved the open bag, stuffed with books, into his arms like it weighed nothing. He nearly buckled at the sudden weight. “Pack up your laptop and some clothes and shit.”

Fjord tried to argue further, but she was right. He was exhausted. And loud as their friend group was, they knew how to respect someone trying to keep a scholarship. They wouldn’t follow him to the library to drag him to a ‘mandatory meeting’ no one told him about, or burst into class in the middle of a test because he had a ‘personal emergency’ that was just another meeting. Or remind him at least twice a week that he could always drop out and just work full time with them.

With a deep, tired sigh, Fjord relented.

~~~~

It had been raining, a hot summer rain. Sticky and gross.

"C’mon!" Beau ordered, literally dragging him by the arm through the graveyard with her insane strength. "Just stay for, like, three days. Get your head on right."

"There's no way your landlord will let me stay."

"You haven't met the guy," she said with a strange expression. Like bewilderment met respect. It was always the look his friends who lived there wore when talking about their landlord and neighbor. "His family has owned this place since like forever. He acts like a major stoner though I rarely see him smoke, and all he wants is tenants that keep the place lively but not destroyed. And to feed us sometimes. But it's dope vegan shit."

"Sounds like the weirdest hippie ever."

"Oh, he is," she assured him.

And Fjord gave in and followed her up the last steps up to the building they called the “Xhorhas”. 

The building itself was old, but sturdy. A stone and brick structure that had stood longer than some of the Grove’s vibrant trees. It was almost mid-Spring then, and the garden-graveyard was bursting with color and flowers and bugs.

“Don’t be a baby,” Beau snapped when he jolted away from a fat little bumblebee. 

“There aren’t bugs in the house, are there?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes, which he hoped to mean ‘of course not’.

The front porch was a wooden structure, painted white then further painted in mis-matched designs and colors. Various plants covered the railings and hung from the room, and there was a little table, a white wooden bench - also painted - and a single, oversized rocking chair. 

“We painted those,” Beau said. “Caduceus had to tear down the old porch and rebuild, and Jester convinced him to let us paint all over it. Check this out!”

She led him to the bench and dragged him down to sit, then to look under it upside-down. There, painted neatly and lovingly under the bench’s seat, was a series of stylized dicks.

Fjord sighed as Beau cackled. Normally it might get a chuckle out of him, but he was too tired to be amused these days.

“Oh, c’mon you old man,” she said, leading him to the actual door. She pulled it open without a key.

“Is it always unlocked? Won’t people try to break in?”

“To a graveyard house?” she asked. “Honestly I’d like to see them try. You haven’t even seen--”

“Ah, Beauregard?” called a low, gentle voice from inside. “Welcome home.”

“Hey Caduceus,” she replied, wiping her feet on the entry mat - covered in a floral design - before stepping further inside. Fjord mimicked her movements.

The front entryway was probably larger than it seemed, with tall ceilings and a rectangular frame. But it was over-crowded with things. Plants everywhere, hanging and on window sills and standing at the edges of the room. There were plush rugs over stone flooring in muted, worn colors more likely due to age and use than style. There was, to the right, a door leading into another room with a curtain hanging down and a collection of plush, mis-matched chairs around a table. Slightly off center to the left were the stairs up to the actual rooms. To the left, a little shelf crammed full of books, endless plants, and was that a shrine?

“Oh, you brought a guest?”

Beau had stepped towards the left, where a tall figure was peering into hanging plants with a watering can dwarfed by his height.

“Yeah, Caduceus, this is Fjord. The friend we’ve mentioned. Fjord, this our landlord, Caduceus.”

Caduceus looked over and smiled, eyes a little droopy in that calm, might-be-a-stoner-but-might-also-just-look-that-way kinda way. He was a firbolg, a rare breed in this area these days, coated in a layer of gray fur, but with pink eyes, hair, and a neatly trimmed pink beard. He wore plain, loose clothing underneath a vibrantly teal, thin coat that stretched nearly to the floor, covered in pink branches and flowers and beetles. Through one ear looped a thick wooden spiral for an earring.

Caduceus made a face. “I don’t like that word, ‘landlord’. I prefer just being another neighbor. Hullo Mister Fjord.”

“Hello. It’s nice to meet you.” Fjord gave an awkward little nod towards the tall man.

“Right, well I wanted to ask if it’s cool if Fjord crashes here for a few days,” Beau said with no warning nor ceremony. Fjord twitched in discomfort. “Maybe a week.”

“I don’t want to impose,” Fjord insisted. “I do have a room--”

“Yeah, in a cultist house with your shitty whatever she is,” Beau snapped.

“Ah, Fjord,” Caduceus said, as if he was suddenly putting the pieces together. “It wouldn’t be any trouble at all.”

“I don’t have any money. I couldn’t pay.”

The firbolg smiled at him. “I didn’t ask for money. You’re a friend of everyone here, and they are my friends. Which, by extension, makes you a friend of mine as well. I wouldn’t turn away a friend who needs a little time away from things.”

Beau gave him a pointed look as if to say, “told you so!”

To Beau, Caduceus said, almost dreamily, “We still have that vacant room.”

“Molly’s old room,” Beau reminded Fjord. Molly, their wild and fabulous tiefling friend, had decided to transfer schools last semester. While it broke the heart of their friend group, he still visited, video chatted, and sent perfumed letters often.

“It’s not much, but there’s a bed and a dresser still. Good enough for a week or so.”

“I couldn’t accept such a generous offer,” Fjord told him. 

“Fjord!” Beau exclaimed. “Let people help you!”

“It’s an entire room, something everyone else is paying for!”

“For like a week, Fjord! And it’s not like people are breaking down the door to live here!”

Fjord glanced at Caduceus, but the man looked unaffected by the comment. Either he was completely vacant, or he was very much in touch with the reality of his home.

“If it’s so important to you,” Caduceus drawled. “I could use some help around the house and the Grove for a few days. I’ve got some projects that have piled up. We could consider that your rent for the week?”

Beau stared holes into Fjord, hands splayed and extended as if to say, “come on!”

“That’s very kind of you, Caduceus,” Fjord said. “I...I suppose it would be a nice break.”

“Finally!” Beau exclaimed. She leapt over to the stairs, thudding up them and shouting, “Jes! We got Fjord for a week!”

“A week!” came a shout from Jester’s familiar voice.

Fjord sighed. Caduceus looked up the stairs smiling. “Such a lively bunch.”

Turning back to Fjord he said, “Let me get you your key.”

~~

Caduceus had been right, the room wasn’t especially noteworthy. But it was clean, with a nice window that overlooked the Grove, including the largest tree there, and simple, sturdy furniture. 

He didn’t have much to his name with him. Avantika and The Champions had taken it poorly when he texted the group chat that he was staying with a friend for the week, but they hadn’t completely flipped out. Still, he wasn’t going to risk going back to that house until he was going back for good. When Beau had grabbed him, they’d focused on taking the things he needed for school so as not to draw attention, and only the bare minimum in anything else.

He had $20 to his name for food for the week, maybe longer. He had two day’s worth of clothes, so he’d be doing laundry every day. Maybe it’d be a good excuse to convince Caleb to let him clean his clothes as well. He somehow always got them covered in dirt and mystery stains. Chem majors.

Caduceus had left him with fresh sheets and linens, as well as a small potted plant. He rattled off instructions and odd musings, then promised it would survive almost anything as long as he watered it every few days and didn’t put it in direct sunlight.

Fjord sat on the edge of the bed, patchwork blankets neatly folded beside him, his duffle bag sitting by the door, and took a breath. There was a large mirror on top of the dresser that looked directly at him. He looked, well. He looked like shit.

His beard, never the full, lush thing he would have preferred, had grown in patchy and speckled with gray. That tiny sliver of gray he’d found at eighteen had expanded into a full-blown chunk at the front of his scalp. His hair was too long, disheveled at this length. His eyes looked sunken and almost bloodshot. He was frowning deeply, his default expression. He sat slumped and tired and worn. Worse than shit, he looked half-dead.

Maybe he could just ask Caduceus to dig him a hole.

~~

He shouldn’t have joked about that, because that was exactly what Caduceus asked him to do pre-dawn the next morning. Luckily, Caduceus was an early riser, which was the only time Fjord had reliably free before classes and work.

“Do I want to know what these holes are for?” Fjord asked gingerly, looking at the shovel handed to him.

“I would think it’s fairly obvious,” Caduceus said, a little perplexed and a little amused in one.

Fjord cleared his throat. “Right. Okay.”

Caduceus worked right alongside him, digging, then breaking from that to stay nearby. He cared for plants, cleaned gravestones, laid out flowers, and prepared these new gravesites. He worked in relative silence, occasionally humming some song or another seemingly without realizing. Sometimes Fjord heard him murmuring to the plants. He’d heard of people talking to plants, and, frankly, it would have been weirder if Caduceus didn’t.

Fjord finished his work as the sun rose, a little worn and sweaty, covered in dirt, but good. He hadn’t been exercising with Beau as much these past few months. Or the past year, really. He was just too damned tired these days. But it felt good to do something physical again.

“Ah, got that done much faster than I expected,” Caduceus said happily. He looked over the grave sites, then nodded in approval. “You did an excellent job. You’re stronger than you seem.”

“I spent a few years working on ships,” Fjord said. The reason he had started college later than most.

“On the ocean?”

“Yeah,” Fjord said.

“That sounds nice,” he said dreamily. “Never been to the ocean.”

“Really?” Fjord asked. “You, uh, you might like it. Not as many plants, at least not that you can easily see. But it’s beautiful. Calming.”

Caduceus leaned on his own shovel like a staff, closing his eyes for a moment as though he were picturing it. “Maybe I’ll go someday.”

They were quiet for a moment, seeing the sun cresting the earth, casting light over the graveyard. 

“Well, that’s enough for today, I think,” Caduceus said. “Let’s get cleaned up.”

Fjord followed him back to the house, bounding up the stairs to shower and change into his only other set of clothes. The biggest downside to the Xhorhas was that it only boasted two bathrooms to share between the residents, two and one more on the third floor for Caduceus. At least each shower was beyond its own door from the sink and toilet, which was something. 

Not many were up at this hour, so he had an entire bathroom to himself. He showered briskly, then took a moment to shave. His hair would have to wait. Maybe Yasha would cut it? She cut Caleb’s hair that one time. Or was that his beard? He couldn’t remember anything besides it involving a sword.

He passed Nott on the way downstairs, who griped at him for ‘taking forever’. Nott was the only non-student in the house, besides maybe Caduceus. She was staying there to save money while she waited for her husband and her son to be able to move to the area, where they hoped to get a proper house for themselves. And maybe Caleb.

When he reached downstairs, noting he still had time for breakfast and maybe some studying before class, he found an odd sight. Carefully arranged in the limited space of the front entry were two yoga mats, on which Caduceus and Beau were finishing up their yoga session.

“Oh, hey Fjord,” Beau said from a twisted stance that was certainly not human. 

Caduceus released a sigh as he unfurled himself. “Mister Fjord, we’re about to do some meditating if you’d like to join us.”

Beau’s eyes lit up. “Oh, yeah. Caduceus does the best guided meditations, man.”

“I’m not really one for meditation,” he said.

Before Beau could complain, Caduceus nodded, closing his eyes calmly and saying, “That’s quite alright. If you ever need to calm your mind or find some peace, you’re welcome to join us.”

“Uh, thank you,” Fjord said. 

He slung his bag over his shoulder and quickly left the house and The Blooming Grove. If he swung by the cafe he worked at, he might be able to get some day-old pastries or breakfast sandwiches for a discount. Of course, only The Champions worked there, so he’d be at a risk. 

He was scheduled for this afternoon, and he had to work. But he wasn’t ready to face any of them.

Might be better just to skip breakfast.

[mimiplaysgames]

in the shape of a star (2/5)

Pairing: Terra/Aqua Rating: T Word Count: 9,324

Summary: They have their home, and they have each other. What they need to build a new life is to find proper footing. But some things are still too difficult to talk about.

Read on AO3

A/N: Ohhh I really didn’t mean to take this long to update this one. But I’m so ecstatic to finally get out a new chapter, it took me a good month to write it and for now, I’m proud of it. I hope you like it! So many, many, countless thanks to @holyteapotofrussell​ for beta-reading this piece and making sure characterizations and other deeper layers are a good fit, this work would not have survived without your help, love, and support. <3

***

anti

When she brushed her hair, she did so alone - without the mirror, without anyone watching. After the bristles glided easily and she felt finished, she’d pat it flat, smoothing out the ends just in case she missed a knot or two. If there were any loose strands, they’d be damned.

It was a still night, the curtains drawn with no wind to disturb the glass, and no whispers behind an unseen reflection of her mirror, which to this hour stood pathetically underneath a discarded bedsheet. No sound disturbed her, and it would have been peaceful silence if she didn’t have thoughts - until there was a soft knock on her door.

Terra opened it for himself. “Hey.”

And Aqua couldn’t help but smile. “Hey.”

Interrupting them was a loud bang, like a lamp falling over, tussling some furniture. She tensed up, expecting something to endanger the safety of her room, maybe even another episode - the last one with Terra was something she still could not put to rest.

Aqua was ready, a list of spells reciting in her mind. But Terra’s quiet chuckle gave her the indication that everything was as normal as it should be.

There was laughter down the hall, a squeak and a giggle. Ventus was fine.

“It sounds like those two are going to keep me up all night,” Terra said with an exasperated smirk. “You know, I’m glad that Cheers came to us.”

Part of her agreed - Chirithy’s arrival meant that Ventus slept happily, soundly.

And through the entire night, bless that cat-thing.

But part of her didn’t want new adventures. Something was still… weird, and she wished to have her family together without any fear, without wondering if she had to prepare for any surprises.

She kept those thoughts to herself.

“They’ll be asleep before you know it,” she said. Call it denial but it was better to count their blessings and hope there were more where they came from.

“How are you doing tonight?” He stayed at her doorframe, head peeking in like he was testing the waters, to see if he was trespassing - not that he ever could, he was the one thing that brightened up the night.

It was slick of him to ask that question when so many others would have been more accurate to how he really felt: Are you okay? Has anything scared you? Do you need me to stay with you? Would you like to come to my room?

Maybe even: I need you, too.

Aqua nodded slowly in response, rolling her words in her mouth before she spoke as much as she fiddled with the brush in her hands.

Yes, of course she wanted him to stay. There was no denying that she wanted to be near him.

But no. She had rejected his offer for three nights now and she hated it. But still, no.

There were things that she didn’t want him to see. Not just yet, anyway.

“I’m doing okay,” she said. “I’m thinking of staying here for tonight.”

She should not make herself into a burden when she was already compromised: a Keyblade Master without a Keyblade. It wasn’t Aqua’s style to need this much, so the best defense for now was to steel herself and fight her battles like nothing had changed.

Except losing a Keyblade was a huge deal so she had to get creative in order to look like she still had her life together.

Needless to say, her boys weren’t very impressed with how she was doing so far.

“Okay.” His voice was respectful but his eyes… disappointed. He rubbed her doorframe, like he was comforting it, and she might as well tell him it was obvious the gesture was really for himself. “If you need anything-”

“I know where to find you.” She smiled. Who knew if it was convincing.

“Yeah.” He patted the doorframe once, and forced a smile. “Good night.”

“Night.”

He closed the door behind him, and she waited for the sounds.

Footsteps faded away, first over to the left, with muffled voices to check if everyone else was tucked in and ready for sleep. Then to the right where a door opened, and before it closed, the sound of a loud flick of the light switch. Light that crept under her door was now darkness.

She threw herself out of her chair, to lock her door before she cast Reflect on it, protecting her from whatever stood waiting outside in the hallway.

It wasn’t enough of course. She cast Reflect on her mirror, the bedsheet covering it just as necessary.

She cast Reflect on her closet.

To her bathroom door.

The window.

This was her new ritual, and she dared darkness to be brave enough and break through. She sat on her bed with her legs crossed, like she was ready to calm down now but there was no telling her heart that it could finally breathe easy.

The light from her ceiling glared on, suffocating the glow coming from her bedside lamp. They were brand new light bulbs, too fresh to make any physical sound yet they were still louder than sirens and they kept her up every night because they did their job too well.

Aqua wanted to be in Terra’s arms; she needed to hear his heartbeat, needed to see that his eyes were still blue.

Needed. It was time to do away with that.

Eventually, her body would do what was natural when it was exhausted enough, getting her to pull the covers over, getting her under the drone of sleep.

When her body eventually did its job, she saw what her mind dared her to see: a black horned monster, its blue veins pumping with energy, its snarled teeth trapped behind bandages, hovering right at her door without an introduction.

She made sure to lock it; she swore she did and here it was anyway.

The monster turned her lights off, and most of it disappeared in the shadows, its yellow eyes still hovering in space.

Aqua could not move her body, and she willed the monster away - there was still strength there, all she had to do was get up, it shouldn’t be this hard. She fought it before without a Keyblade and could do it again.

It floated over to her bedside and there it was, face to face with her, heavy breaths counting down to when it would start.

At first, it almost reached to touch her, but instead its fingers grasped the fabric of the bandages crossing over its mouth, struggling at first to take them off but finally succeeding. It said her name.

Aqua…

All the while a cat with red eyes watched on by her windowsill.

***

The only cure for a bad night’s sleep was tea in the morning. Despite her pounding headache, Aqua prepared herself with three open books for a hard study on how to brew the best.

She was not the resident tea expert - that title went to Terra - but she liked to play an aggressive game and wanted to impress. The books were spread on the countertop: one for tea with fruits, one for spices, and one all about the philosophy of brewing different types, at what temperatures, and for how long.

Aqua chose the hard route by creating a new brew instead of following a simple recipe - last night had defeated her, and she really needed to win at something that didn’t make her feel like she was a lost cause.

She opened the cupboard for two mugs to find that she only need one.

The Master’s mug, this enormous ceramic perfection with a painted, curled mustache near the rim. He loved drinking out of this, the joke being that if he ever wanted to change his style, he could always do so in the mornings with a side of coffee. The size of it made it more like a chalice than anything else that was proper for a kitchen.

It was one of the things neither of them could bring themselves to throw away.

Terra claimed it for himself now, toying with the idea of growing out facial hair but never following through with it.

In the Master’s chalice, she mixed her concoction: ginger tea with turmeric and orange slices.

She checked each of her books one more time, making sure that her equations were correct, that she brewed something worthwhile. She took one little sip - meh, it was decent enough, and now she was nervous that he wouldn’t like it.

Voices floated near the dining room - it was curtain time.

Ventus spoke first, his tone anxious, like he was desperate and needy. “I don’t know, man… You know Aqua. She’s going to kill you.”

“Ven,” Terra replied to shut him up. “What else do you-”

A sigh.

“Everything’s going to be fine, buddy,” Terra said, and she was certain what followed was a rustle through Ven’s hair.

Years later and it was still second nature for all of them not to take Ventus seriously. She felt bad for him.

The door opened and only Terra came through, making her wonder if Ventus was now sulking - if he was, he didn’t turn to either of them anymore. He turned to Chirithy.

“It smells great in here,” he said as though he didn’t suspect that Aqua heard anything.

Which put her in an awkward situation - ask for what they were talking about, or keep it a pleasant morning?

…Was she really that traumatized that she had to be worried over what Terra was up to? She should (and would) trust him.

“Look what I did,” she said instead, displaying the chalice proudly with a half-full teapot over the bar that stood in between them. She didn’t say anything else, giving him the opening to volunteer the information himself.

He did not. He smirked. “Let’s see how well you performed, Master.”

The rim of this quirky mug approached his lips, a huge caricatured mustache now donned across his face right under his nose, like a portrait of an era from long ago. It almost made him look like Master Eraqus; she really should take a picture.

His sip was purposefully loud, the smack of his tongue vibrant as he tested the flavor, a gentle swallow when he finished - he did all this without ever breaking his gaze on her, and Aqua found that she quite enjoyed the way he looked at her, and she definitely noticed how comfortable it was to stare back.

“I’m actually quite impressed,” he said as he set the mug down.

“Seriously?” She didn’t think it was anything special, so she grabbed it and brought it to her own lips.

Hm, oddly it tasted better. Maybe she always thought his tea tasted amazing because he always shared it with her.

His chuckles interrupted her drink. “Facial hair looks good on you,” he said.

“You’re not as clever as you think you are.”

“I am.” He took the mug back. “You’re stealing from me.”

Laughing almost felt normal, like they hadn’t lost anything and they didn’t have to be afraid of losing again.

He stopped himself from drinking more to stare in awe of her smile.

Then he shrugged it off and darted his eyes somewhere else - to the floor - as he sipped, sinking into a thought that took some of his joy away.

“What is it?” she asked.

If anything, she was grateful he didn’t try to lie about it. “I’ve decided what I want to do.”

This day was always going to come, she knew it. The easiest, most joyful days were always the first to slip away and she told herself the entire time she anticipated it that it didn’t mean they would be separated. She had to believe that.

“Let’s hear it.”

He brought himself to look at her in the eyes. “I want to train with Riku, take as much time as I can with him before he leaves.”

It made sense. It also meant that he chose Riku as his Master.

“He’ll be good for you,” she said.

Something about the way he avoided her gaze told her that there was more to it. “Aqua, I’ll be meeting him in Destiny Islands.”

“You-” She inhaled. “You won’t be training in the castle?”

“No.”

All she was able to will out of herself was to stare at her fingers, reminding herself that every student of the Keyblade deserved privacy for their personal growth and it wasn’t anything personal.

“It’s not anything to do with you. It’s just…” Tears formed behind his eyes and he blinked them away. “Every morning, every night, every moment no matter how distracted I am or how detailed I plan a better future, all I have left to come to is myself.”

“Terra…” Ever since they came home, he had a nasty self-hating habit and most of the time she wasn’t confident that her words would comfort him.

How many times would she tell him that she was proud of him? How many times did he say that she had no reason to?

And what was the point for all this self-flagellation when she understood him more than he realized?

She nearly told him - nearly - but there was something as thick as tar that glued her mouth together. She didn’t tell him that she failed, too, that darkness took her, that she got angry, that she attacked her friends and allies.

If she said anything he would ask why it happened, and there wasn’t a single word in the dictionary to soften the blow.

“Listen,” he said, bringing his hand close to hers, stopping himself from asking her to take it. “Either way, I want you to be the one to test for my Mark of Mastery.”

Her eyes met his. “You sure?”

“Yes. I want - no, I need you to see me at my best. Please.”

She understood the words he wasn’t saying: he needed to reassure himself that they were equals. In her eyes, they still were.

“I will.”

Her normal Terra was back - eyes filled with determination, with hope, with the vow that he would succeed. “There’s one more thing.”

She scoffed. “Okay.”

“I’m also going to be training with Merlin.”

“Oh.”

This she didn’t expect: him training with a stranger when magic was her expertise. She almost asked him not to go, almost spit a long resumé of how skilled she was and surely she could teach him if he was interested.

Which meant that Terra would spend more time away from home, too. “What would you be working on?”

“Oh you know,” he said, trying so hard to make her feel better. “Taming these powers some asshole who cheated death left behind for me to deal with.”

He failed.

Aqua supposed that in spite of how long they had existed apart, there were still journeys they had to take alone. Maybe sooner in the future, they would all be inseparable again.

Or was that too unrealistic to believe? Since when did her Mark of Mastery promise that adulthood would be this hard?

His fingers brushed hers, hesitant at first then relieved when she reciprocated, giving her a grip so tight as if he was the one who kept her standing.

“I promise,” he said, lowering his voice to a soft whisper, “I’ll be home every day before the sun sets.”

Terra smiled once more, stroking her thumb with his, searching her eyes, her lips, her forehead. “Just one more thing.” He brushed through some straggling strands, matching one side of her head with the other, making sure she was well-kept.

She might as well melt into mush and keep him here for at least one more day, at least to prepare a proper good-bye, but Aqua stood on her own two feet so he could start his soul-searching guilt-free. “Keep your Gummiphone on you.”

“You’re such a mom.” He gave her a gentle squeeze before letting go, the ghost of his warmth still on her. She cupped it with her other hand as if to keep it. It didn’t work.

At least he humored her by showing his Gummiphone tucked in his pocket, before handing his mug over. “I’ll allow you to have the rest,” he said.

His footsteps echoed in the entrance hall before they were muffled by the outside, and shushed by the time he was too far away. He bid his farewell to Eraqus’ memorial first before summoning his armor, the last sound he made a burst of fire as his glider took him to the sky.

The tea was still hot, but it had lost most of its flavor.

***

It would have been difficult for anyone else to find Ventus in such a large castle - however Aqua knew him well. If he wasn’t playing around in the training grounds, hiding in the highest loft of the library, or pigging out in the kitchen, then he was in his room.

How right she was, hearing voices coming from behind his door.

She knocked. “Ven?”

“Just a sec.”

He rummaged, and she heard the snap of a bedsheet. Timing herself to the movement of the fabric, she walked in, just in time for him to double check that his mirror was completely covered.

“Thanks,” she said, wishing her boys didn’t have to be so careful around her.

Chirithy stood on his table next to a carefully placed stack of books so worn out that the leather started to peel. It wiggled its ears and groomed its paws, and it was endearing enough that it almost looked like a house cat.

For as much as Ventus was the eternal child in their trio, he was way more tidy than Terra. Souvenirs from the Master’s adventures littered his walls and bookshelves, all neatly arranged so that they each shined without being shadowed by another. Aqua wondered if Ventus remembered each one’s story - she certainly didn’t.

“You talked to Terra?” Ventus asked, cautiously in fact, like he expected a fight out of it.

“I did,” Aqua replied, her tone suspicious. “Everything is fine.”

This confused him a little. “Okay. So what now?”

“That’s what I came to ask you.”

He made himself comfortable on his own seat, and if she didn’t have to burden him with huge existential questions about the direction of his future, he would have probably expected this day to be spent with another fun run in the woods, like any teenage boy would want to do. He still liked his poop and fart jokes (and Terra still laughed at them).

But Ventus was also the most determined, and she and Terra often made the mistake of underestimating him. He perked up with all the confidence of someone much older.

“Well, there’s a lot of questions I want answered.”

Immediately she leaned forward, her shoulders straight and ready for the responsibility. “Shoot.”

He chuckled nervously, his hand deliberately massaging his neck. “Um… I don’t think you’ll be able to help me with any of them.”

“Why not?”

“Well, unless Realm of Darkness gave you a history lesson about my past…” Ah. Of course. “It sucks not having anybody to talk to about it,” he said, and Chirithy stopped its grooming. “No one alive, I mean. Xehanort must have known something, though. It didn’t hit me until after he died, but now I don’t have anyone to ask.”

“… You want to leave, too?”

“I don’t know,” he said too quickly. “Maybe. One of these days, yeah. But there’s also…” He lost the words, and placed a hand at the top of the book stack. “I was supposed to read these and write the Master an essay. He postponed the deadline so I could watch your Mark of Mastery.”

Then he turned to her. “I kind of remember what it was supposed to be about, and I want to do the right thing and finish it first. Will you read it when I’m done?”

“Y-yeah, sure, if you think it would help.”

“…Why are you so surprised? Aren’t you my Master now?”

It left her with a breathless, dry laugh. “Am I?”

He shrugged, like it was the most obvious decision he could have made. “I can’t think of anyone better.”

“Ven,” she said, her hand running through his hair. There wasn’t a good enough thank you for such a compliment. Not to her anyway, all she had was a meek nod.

Then the responsibility, the honor, of being his Master dawned on her - she would have to develop an academic plan for him.

But what of? In the silence that followed, she thought of her Master and his strict lessons, half their time spent in archaic books and the rest in sparring. Philosophy was processed, digested, and repeated instead of debated. Sometimes they had formal lessons in behavioral manners, politics - even history if they were lucky.

Much of it wasn’t really relevant when all she had was her education in the darkest nights.

“If you really want to write the essay,” she finally said, “we’ll start with that.”

She took the one at the very top, the most worn with a thick cover threaded by ancient hand-made methods from before book printing was a thing.

“Affairs of the Heart by the Master of Masters,” she read aloud. “Ugh, I remember when Terra and I had to read this one.”

“Isn’t it awful?”

“The worst.”

Ventus shook his head with disgust. “I wonder if the entire thing is a lame excuse for a joke.”

She snorted. “What do you mean?”

“Thou shalt neither succumb at temptation and ne'er be fray y'est thine heart be ill-fitted with worrys,” he imitated with a deep, exaggerated voice, using his hand as a puppet.

“I don’t think y'est is a word, Ven.”

“Whatever.”

“The teachings have failed you?” Chirithy said, surprising her - she completely forgot it had been witness. It’s so much like a cat sometimes: watching, ignoring, maybe even judging.

“You could say that,” Ventus said with a nervous smirk, desperately and silently pleading at Aqua for permission to say more. “I mean, I don’t want to say that my Master was a bad teacher. Without him, I wouldn’t have been able to protect myself at all. He practically raised me and I owe him a lot-”

“Then what is troubling you?” Chirithy asked.

“I wasn’t prepared to be fighting my own shadow.” He leaned back, his hands supporting his head to give off the casual impression that nothing was really bothering him (it was). “He had a face and emotions, his own view of the world… Nothing I’ve ever read gave me the impression that was even possible.”

Chirithy wiggled its ears, cocking its head. “Therefore your teachings about the light were incomplete?”

“Not at all.” He straightened up like a lightning bolt. “I knew very little about the darkness and after everything that happened, I think a Keyblade Wielder should know more about it. I mean, I don’t know where Xehanort got the idea to split me in two. Why me?”

“Your light has and will always be bright and powerful, Ventus,” Chirithy chirped with suspicious confidence, before lowering its head. “It is ripe for the greedy, and I have seen the strongest faith break apart and cast the biggest, blackest shadows.”

“Have you really?” Aqua intervened, now that they’re on the subject. It kept its own past so close to its chest that catching it on the act of speaking was a golden opportunity. “You have any other unmatched and infinite wisdom you’d like to share, Cheers?”

“Like?”

Aqua rested her elbow on her knee, her chin in her hand. “Tell me about where you came from. Who taught you to speak?”

“I was made scientifically, in a flask,” it said flatly. Maybe as far as sarcastically.

“Okay then,” she nodded. “Well, I’d love to chat when you’re ready to be serious.”

“I have doppelgangers who all share my name,” it continued. Ventus found this particularly funny.

“Yeah, sure,” she brushed it off, turning her attention back to her new student. “Ven, I get it, I really do. I wasn’t prepared for the Realm of Darkness, either.”

“Really?” Now who was being cynical. “I don’t think I would have stayed human if I was down there for that long… But you’re a Master, so of course you survived.”

It stung more than he realized, more than Terra would ever comprehend, more than Chirithy could measure, but Aqua kept herself calm.

She simply didn’t know how to tell them that the savior they all saw in her was really an imposter.

“I’m just saying,” she said, surprising herself with how steady she sounded, “that I don’t want to follow the same path as our Master. If you think you’ll find answers outside, then you deserve to know. I won’t stop you.”

Ventus’ expression left Aqua wishing that one day soon, they could talk about the future without the baggage of the past. He was almost shocked, like this was his first taste of being treated as an adult, and he liked it.

Then there was a shift in his eyes, and she could tell that he didn’t know how to walk the talk or where to begin. She didn’t know either - should she really allow him to leave when he wanted or should they wait until he was Master before embarking on a treacherous journey first?

“I’ve got time to figure it out,” he said. “I don’t even know what I’m looking for yet. I’ll stay here for now, at least until Terra’s done with his training.”

“Why is that?”

He said too much. “No reason.”

“Ven, you know I don’t like bullshit.”

He flinched. “Promise not to get mad.”

“I can’t make-”

“Swear on this stupid book,” he tapped Affairs of the Heart, “that you will not get upset.”

She sighed, lazily putting her hand on the ancient tome. “I promise.” Not a second too soon, she let go.

Ventus took his sweet time to respond. “We thought it might be a good idea to always have one Keyblade wielder in the castle at all times.”

“That sounds sensible.”

He was relieved - too relieved for her taste. “Really?”

“Huh.” It wasn’t for the castle’s sake. It was for hers. “I don’t remember needing bodyguards.”

He squirmed. “You promised.”

Her lips pursed to the point of soreness and she desperately wanted to assure him that yes, she wanted to smack him on the side of the head with that book.

But she had to admit watching his reaction was pretty funny. “Focus on your essay. I’ll ask for it in about three days.”

“I- I can’t read all of that in-”

“Finish it.”

She left him there, gently shutting the door behind her and overhearing him tell Chirithy that maybe she might be scarier than Eraqus. Aqua didn’t actually commit to such a tight deadline, but she’d wait a little longer before informing him.

It seemed the moment Terra made his decision was proof that they all had to own up to their duties, and that their vacation of peace and reconciling was over.

Aqua walked down a hallway far enough to be sure she wouldn’t be heard before whipping out her Gummiphone, scrolling through contacts. She understood the basic concept of how to use it, but it was still foreign enough that it wasn’t second nature just yet. What a strange new life she woke back up to.

She found it, easily enough: Ienzo, Radiant Garden. She made the call, and a video screen lit up, his entire face on display.

“Master Aqua,” he greeted. He was always so polite. “I’ve been expecting your call since we last spoke.”

She hated the words that were going to come out, but it was time to take that first leap of faith into the abyss. “I’m ready to find my Keyblade.”

“Yes,” he confirmed. “I’ve already conducted a survey among the team and prior Organization members. I apologize again that I have no memory of it, I was so young.

"But anyway…” He cheered himself up. “You’ll be happy to hear that yes, when Xehanort was found, there was a blue Keyblade and a set of armor by his side. Though I’m sorry to say that he experimented with it.”

She told herself that starting was going to be the worst part, and it would get easier after she swallowed the bile building in her throat. “Can you elaborate?”

“Not on any human, mind you.” His hand waved in dismissal at the camera. “He merely wanted it to cooperate. It wouldn’t respond to him, it was as good as dead.”

“Good.” Her Keyblade, her own heart and soul bound to a weapon, made her proud.

“However, all the failures of making it spark discouraged him, so he locked it away.”

“What does that mean?”

His eyes were far away now, gesturing to someone off-camera to leave him be for a minute. “He was very protective of it and didn’t want to give anyone else a try.”

Protective would be the last word she’d ever use to describe Xehanort, but this wasn’t really just him, was it? This was also a white-haired Terra, someone who apparently didn’t understand his own past, attached to a relic that reminded him of feeling.

It made her think of how doting Terra was to make her smile, and how enchanted he became when he succeeded.

And then she imagined a white-haired freak begging some inanimate object to give him the validation of a greeting.

She didn’t know how to feel about that.

“Okay, where is it now?”

“No one knows,” he said somberly. “I’m afraid I don’t have a better answer for you…

"What we do have is a shelf of journals, including personal diaries and notes about his scientific experiments,” he continued. “Perhaps the answer might lie inside?”

“No,” she said and instantly regretted letting it out of her mouth. No, no, no, no. She didn’t want to know anything about any of that: creating Heartless, locking people up, flirting and deceiving, backstabbing people who thought they were his comrades, all with Terra’s face and hands.

This was exactly why she didn’t want Terra to help her with this either. It was best to leave Xehanort buried and not do anything to revive him - especially giving his thoughts any respect of existence. Why did the old man go and make things this complicated?

Taking a leap of faith was supposed to be like dipping into cold water - unpleasant and maybe painful at first but the temperature should level after a while.

This was more akin to jumping into acid now.

Right when proper words had failed her the most.

“I completely understand if you don’t-”

“You misunderstand me,” she corrected, and she regretted that too.

***

Terra kept his promise.

He came home right before the sun set behind the western mountains, when there was still enough light to filter through the stained glass. It barely took fifteen minutes after he arrived before it finally got dark - but not fifteen minutes too late, exactly as she needed him to.

Aqua gave in and asked Ienzo to ship Xehanort’s journals. Now it was anticipating having to read them, and wondering what kind of horrid images she would have to expose herself to, and why why why.

She thought she had virtuoso though, and powered through dinner in spite of the storm brewing inside of her - which of course her boys noticed.

Ventus thought she was angry with him. Terra thought she was mad at him.

It wasn’t until after dinner, when Terra approached her, that Aqua realized the minutes had betrayed her sense of time - at least the library was a pleasant place to spend them.

Open books littered the shelves and she already forgot where they belonged. Right now, she was too busy flipping pages from the one in her arms.

Terra put down a satchel with its flap pulled back. It was filled with raw, cloudy crystals, like he had just picked them out from some mines.

“Crystal magic?” she asked.

“Merlin wanted to start with something simple.” He had his arms crossed, bracing for whatever she had to say that would upset him. She didn’t mean to make him feel this way, especially to the point that he dug for conversations to lighten the mood.

“I wouldn’t consider crystal activation as simple.” It was bizarre that they would start with this - even she had a hard time bending hard minerals to her will, and she was better at this stuff.

“Don’t let him hear you say that.”

Awkward silence settled in. She was supposed to chuckle at that.

So Terra, nervously rolling his lips, scanned through the titles of the books around her, closing them and making a stack.

“You’re reading about spirit guides,” he said, not as a question but as an observation. “Interesting. Is this about Cheers?”

“He’s a punk and won’t answer my questions.” She scoffed at the realization that she was probably fooling herself. “There isn’t a single mention of a Chirithy in any of these books.”

“I see.” He sneaked glances at her when he thought she wouldn’t notice. “Is that what’s bothering you?”

“No,” she said weakly. She supposed she couldn’t avoid it anymore. “If I want to find Stormfall, I’ll have to read through Xehanort’s personal diaries.”

“Oh, Aqua.” The horror in his voice confirmed her worst fears. “I’m so sorry.”

“There’s no guarantee that I’ll find what I’m looking for, either. I could be exposing myself to nonsense for no good reason.”

He leaned forward, his fingers bracing her shoulder and she remembered that he was warm. “What can I do to help?”

“Oh-” She shook her head and it made him feel worse. Terra always hated to be left out, and this was especially touchy considering the guilt leaking out of his eyes. “Terra, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to…”

“Read them.” He sighed. There was a question at the tip of his tongue, something he attempted multiple times to ask but zipped himself up. “… Do you not feel safe around me anymore?”

“What?”

“I’m asking since you won't…” He barely looked at her, whatever he was thinking of embarrassed him. She bet it was because she wouldn’t sleep in his room anymore.

“Of course I do, that’s not it at all…”

If only she had the gift to inspire with her words, to talk about these things without hurting his feelings. Both of them lived with shackles on their ankles from their past transgressions, heavy enough to sink them because it mattered that much that they’d drown if they didn’t tread lightly.

It was an awful way to exist. “I’m not getting better,” she said.

“I think it’s my fault because of the situation with the stupid chandelier.”

That was only partially true. How could she let him know that being around him made her breathe easier? “It’s not. There’s just some things I think is best to fight alone, you know?”

He bitterly scoffed. “I wish you would tell me how I can help.”

“Look at me.” She wondered if sometimes it hurt him to do so. Her fingers gently grazed his, welcoming an embrace so he could be comforted by the things she was terrible at saying. “I will have to read some very upsetting things, and there will be days when I won’t be okay. I’ll need you to listen when that happens. I’ll need you to be a shoulder for me.”

It sounded weird to ask him to do that. It used to be that they would promise things like to tell the other when they’re wrong, to always split the food in equal thirds, to pass the exam together. She stood on her own and he did just fine, too - like they were equals. Asking for his strength didn’t used to be status quo but she could see how desperately he wanted to be there for her and how much brighter he was when she let him in.

He squeezed her hand tighter. “I’ll do my best.”

In the meantime, she would shoulder herself that night, to try again and sleep on her own before dumping loads on her best friend with anything else that would add weight to his burdens.

Soon enough, even though she made (triple) sure that her barriers were solid and tall, someone turned off the lights in her room as soon as she got into bed.

Someone sat at her vanity table, shadows cloaking enough to hide the identity but leaving a silhouette.

Someone breathed.

Someone shifted comfortably in her chair, watching her.

Close your eyes, said a female voice.

Aqua wouldn’t, she’d die if she did.

The figure stirred when she refused, and crept closer to the bed, soft footsteps thudding on her carpet.

Once again, Aqua was a hostage in her body.

Her own face corrupted with golden eyes sauntered into the moonlight, looking down with disdain and curiosity.

Close them, her double said with the demand for appeasement, as if darkness required a toll to let her move.

Her anti-self firmly pressed a scaly, frigid finger to her lips to shush her whimpering, before clasping a claw stained with a bitter red over her eyelids.

***

Ironically, her favorite pastime was only something she could do in the dark.

Aqua had spent years forgetting that the darkness was capable of doing anything beautiful, its one and only good deed being its necessary presence when it let the stars out.

With her boys, it was easier to go outside and rely on their cues on whether danger lurked near. It never did in the Land of Departure; she knew this and yet somehow she still found ways not to believe it.

Their night time picnics took place in the safety of huge lanterns that lit the way through the training grounds, the dark mountains far enough away to look like an unassuming painting. Of course, it would be easier to see the stars in the forests, where artificial light had no power, but Aqua needed constant reassurance that nothing in the shadows would swallow her back to hell.

That was always the point - stay in the light and she could prepare herself for what was coming. Aqua prayed that one day she could be ordinary again, just to be able to camp in the wild like she used to.

Tonight, Ven’s laugh made it seem like night never existed in the first place.

With a stick, a string, and a few molted feathers, he madeshift a cat toy for Chirithy - though it was entirely unamused and it squinted enough that it might have been annoyed. Terra tossed snarky comments that Ventus should find someone his own size to pick on (Terra was out of the question, much too big and much too strong).

While it was pleasant to enjoy a picnic with her boys like the old days, something about it didn’t feel so normal - Chirithy would always be a living reminder that the Master was dead, and maybe that was a blessing: she could spare herself the grief of expecting him to join them.

She grabbed a wrapped rice ball from the basket - each was filled with spiced chicken, to Terra’s delight - and bit into it.

“I’ve been procrastinating,” she said to Terra who sat next to her on the checkered blanket, low enough that Ventus wouldn’t hear.

He nodded, a half-eaten treat in one hand that he immediately ignored. “Have you read anything?”

It had been several days that she left the journals in a neglected pile in the Master’s office.

“Yeah.” All she did so far was peek into one, figuratively tossing a coin between the chance that it would be written with Terra’s handwriting or someone else’s…

It turned out to be someone else’s, the word ‘heart’ written on the page she pulled open. She shut it immediately because she couldn’t handle the nausea.

Terra didn’t ask for more information, forgetting he had food in his hand as his eyes glazed over and left the picnic he was supposed to be a part of.

“Did I say something wrong?” she asked.

“No.” He shifted, leaning away like his first instinct was to avoid her and she hated how guilty he seemed all the time.

Then, after a time, he forced a smile - he really was good at giving himself silent pep talks to bravely face whatever he was worried about. “I saw Nami today.”

For having their lives ruined for years, it was honestly good that he had such a trusted friend in Naminé. “How is she?”

“She’s good.” It was strange that he was nervous to speak about her, sitting on his legs in an awkward angle that it couldn’t be comfortable.

“Terra.”

“Yeah?”

“What is it?”

By now, Ventus was quiet, joining them on the blanket in the hopes of getting himself something delicious, but whatever appetite he had abandoned him in the presence of such tension. Chirithy crawled onto his lap, and to anyone else they looked like a boy keeping his stuffed animal close for comfort.

Actually, on second thought, he too was bracing himself for what was coming. Ventus knew something.

“Okay,” she commanded, “let’s have it.”

Rice fell in tiny clunks on the picnic blanket, like specks of snow. Terra didn’t notice. “I asked her to…” He cleared his throat. “To rechain some of the memories that are disconnected from me.”

Her heart stopped. “Excuse me?”

“Riku was with me, I didn’t do it alone.” He held his free hand up in surrender.

“I didn’t-” She snapped, trapping her breath because she needed something to punish. “I didn’t ask for this.”

“I know.” He looked past her, the courage to address her directly fleeting. “I only wanted to help.”

“And what do you think it’s going to do to you?” She dropped her rice ball and it splattered. “Did you think it was a good idea?”

“Aqua,” Ventus objected, his brow furrowed like he was the one offended. “This is Terra we’re talking about. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.”

“Oh, but hurting himself is fine.”

“You’re not getting any better.” Ventus leaned over, his hand drawing his points in the air, his tone slicing as sharp as mountain gusts. “And we both knew that you shouldn’t be without a Keyblade. He said he was trying to help you out, or are you deaf?”

His words cut deeply enough to make her wince, and she wondered if it was a whiplash she started herself.

Was she doing it again, seeing Terra in such an awful way that she had to assume the worst? Was she going to have to watch him turn his back on her like he did before?

One of the things she regretted the most was refusing to hear what Terra had to say for himself that day.

“I didn’t mean it that way-”

“She’s right, Ven,” Terra said, waving his arm. “I should have said something to her before I did anything.”

If her words were going to continue to fail her, then she had nothing left except to crawl toward Terra, and lock him in her arms so tightly that it said what she needed to say better than she was capable of. All she had left was to hope that he heard her correctly.

He heard her right, taking her waist with both his arms, protecting her from herself. “I’m sorry. You won’t lose me again.”

***

Whatever it was that kept her company late at night - her mind, really - was the worst friend she ever had.

There she was on her bed, again, preparing for her routine: start with casting Reflect, pace back and forth, and then stare at the ceiling until she stopped remembering anything else before the sun greeted her.

It was bad enough that her boys noticed her deterioration, and they hadn’t even seen what she was doing by herself when she closed the door.

When awake, she wanted to sleep so badly but when asleep, she begged to be wake up. A proper Keyblade Master should have a little more self-control.

However, Aqua didn’t consider herself enough of a proper Master to really know what she was doing. Her hands kept finding her Gummiphone, fiddling with her contact list, and then dropping it back on her bed.

She was sick of nights like these. She texted Terra: Are you awake?

Almost immediately: kitchen. lights are on.

Indeed there was one path of lit hallways taking her straight to the kitchen, the sky through the upper windows blackened from the clouds.

He sat on a stool at the middle counter, head buried in his hands with the teapot steaming by his side and the Master’s mug filled to the brim. His thumb massaged his temple, and he didn’t give much of a response when she entered and found her place next to him.

“This is my second cup,” he sighed as he passed it toward her. Considering how huge it was, it was more like his fourth. “It’ll help you better, I think.”

It was chamomile tea even though he hated the taste of it. As she sunk a huge gulp, she tasted all the experimentation he did to make it pleasant: lavender, almond milk, and honey. He even added vanilla extract to make it sweeter, which meant his insomnia was quite serious this time.

“Delicious as always.” Warmth filled her throat and solaced her chest down to her core, as though it was telling her that sleep wasn’t a fantasy.

Terra did not reply. With elbows pressed onto the marble and his mouth leaning on his hands, he looked elsewhere - at the wall across from them. His pupils shivered as hard as his eyelids, his thoughts fighting a difficult battle all by himself.

Aqua traced her fingers on his arm. “Terra, where are you?”

Whatever he was thinking imprisoned his full attention, but it let him mumble, “I have memories that aren’t mine.”

A sick feeling of I told you so bubbled in her stomach, mixed with imagining the horrid images he was remembering, and fear of the sorrow that was threatening to barge in. He didn’t deserve to experience this, and yet this was something Terra would have always chosen to do: spare her from the same.

“Please stay with me,” she said, both hands wrapped around his forearm now, gently coaxing him back to reality where it was safer.

He blinked as though a strong light beamed into his eyes, and several more times to stop the tears. Sighing, settling into the stool, letting his shoulders relax, he turned to her, taking her fingers in his, and he looked at her like he actually saw her.

“I’m here.”

Two words from him was enough. She handed the mug back and helped herself to leaning against his bicep, which was more comfortable than her pillow.

Terra took a huge swallow, his thumb gliding across her knuckles - ever since he grew into himself and passed through adulthood, his hands had become humongous. She used to amuse herself with thoughts that he needed a hand just as big to hold.

Of course, hers were dainty in comparison even though they carried weight far heavier than most.

Yet despite how much he dwarfed her, they still fit perfectly together.

He swallowed again, before croaking, “They’re still in the Master’s office, right?”

She nodded into his arm.

He steadied, leaning away to address her directly. “Let’s take care of them.”

Indeed, those journals were still in their same positions on the Master’s large mahogany desk, almost perfectly stacked out of neglect.

Terra opened one of the books on the top, and only glanced through it before snapping it back closed.

Whether what little he read disturbed him or not, she couldn’t tell.

“Do you still need them?” he asked.

That was probably the most cynical question he had ever asked her. “No.”

“Good.”

On the opposite end of the Master’s office was the fireplace, cleaned of soot. Terra didn’t need to mention it when they both thought of the same thing.

If a fire was built out of curses, would it still be considered a hearth?

It cackled and spit when the hard leather hit, and it would take a couple of burns to melt all of the clumps but the point of this ritual was to throw their shackles overboard and watch them combust. Every journal aflamed burned more knots from her shoulders.

She had a fleeting desire to touch the fire herself, and see if it could burn away the nightmares, too.

“I feel so much better,” he said, on his knees. “You?”

For her, the warmth lasted for only a few moments. “I’d still have to go back to my room, and I don't…” She scoffed. “I don’t even know what to say about that.”

“You should sleep here.”

In between the fireplace and the rest of the office was a rug on the floor and a long, supple couch surrounded by coffee tables and footrests.

She hummed. “That would place me far away from you guys.”

“I could stay with you,” he offered and realized it might have been an embarrassing thing to say.

“Terra-”

“You know what, Aqua? I have to be honest. I really want to be with you for the night.” He rolled his lips and held his breath for her response, but didn’t let her say anything more. “Maybe I shouldn’t even ask but I don’t understand the point of not saying anything - I just needed to get that off my chest.”

“Terra,” she said more sternly (but with a smirk) to warn him against interrupting her. “I want you to stay with me, but…”

Her eyes wandered the office. The fire shone a bright light against the furniture but as much as it was healing, it left heavy, glaring shadows. She had to walk to the entrance and turn the rest of the lights on. “I don’t want you to be bothered by the lights.”

“I won’t be.”

“And there’s just stuff I have to do now before I can even relax.”

“Then do them.” He shrugged, a warm smile welcoming her home. “Do what you have to do, I don’t care.”

She shook her head. “I don’t like needing anything. I needed and needed and needed so much for so long and nothing happened, and now it feels like I’m losing a game I don’t want to play.”

“But if you’re taking care of yourself,” he came closer to her, his arms crossed, “isn’t that more like winning?”

She was going to say that he didn’t understand what she was going through, when the straightening of his mouth stopped her. Something in his mind hung on to him, and it hurt him, and he was about to free himself and let it go.

“What if I told you,” he said, “that I needed you? Is that okay?”

“Of course.”

Nerves trickled up his arms. “It’s harder to sleep without you.”

She fiddled with her fingers. “I feel the same way.”

He cleared his throat, putting on a brave face to stop himself from chuckling. “Then please spare me from another awful night.”

Those were words that she could have said but pride was a sensitive, whiny thing.

She shut the door in front of her, and checked to make sure it was locked twice. With that secured, she murmured her Reflect spell to cover the entire doorway.

“Ah,” he tisked. “Can I play your game, too?”

Aqua stammered a laugh. “The windows, please.”

“Say no more.”

He traveled opposite from the door, and took extra care that his Reflect spell stretched beyond the windowsill. In the meantime, she worked on putting a barrier over the fireplace, before heading towards the biggest piece of furniture in the room.

“The wardrobe, too?” he asked.

Aqua wasn’t the type to feel particularly shy, but in this moment, she second-guessed herself.

“Sorry,” he said, briskly opening it to fetch a black rag and then giving her the cue to help herself.

“What is that for?”

He wrapped it around his eyes, tying a knot that scrunched his hair. It was thick enough to block the light pounding from all around him, and he squeezed her hand with his to remind her that he chose to stay with her. “You’re doing me a favor, so it’s the least I can do. Now we’re even.”

His fingers played with hers, and if they had feelings, then they were smiling.

“Am I going to have to keep you from knocking into things?”

“Maybe,” he drawled like a child. “I’m used to this, actually.”

“What do you mean?”

“I spent quite a long time looking at nothing but darkness,” he softly said, his voice getting distant. “I don’t really need to see. I don’t really need to touch you either to… feel your presence near me. I can tell where the furniture is if I’m close enough. It’s really familiar.”

A cold nausea swept over her.

If this was how it was for him all this time… Was it the same that fateful night in the Realm of Darkness when the monster attacked her?

What was it called again… the Guardian? Terra just couldn’t see that it was her he was ruining, or was it something else…?

“Aqua?”

True, he didn’t need to see her to understand that something was bothering her. His head leaned over to listen to for a cue, and when he didn’t get any he lifted the rag to find her with one eye.

She stood still long enough that her hand went limp in his.

“I hate this,” she said.

He didn’t understand what she meant, and as though she had transferred pain into him, he started to slip his fingers away. She held them tighter as reassurance.

“Is it just me,” she breathed, “or was it easier for us to be ourselves before the Mark of Mastery? Tell me I’m not misremembering how we used to be, I just hate the way it’s been so hard to talk about anything.”

“Y-yeah. I know what you mean.”

“I want us to go back. I want to tell you things I wouldn’t say to anyone else. I don’t want us to have to hide anything.”

He nodded sadly. “I want the same.”

“Then let’s start over.”

“Aqua,” he chuckled. “I have too many special memories to start anew, but…” He tugged at her, leading her to the couch where he leaned against the backrest and brought his ankles to one of the embroidered footrests, accommodating his body until he found peace.

All of the paper succumbed to the flames and left a void where something could replace it and keep the hearth going, but that was the point. They were not made of wood; they were stronger than that, and they should be able to withstand what hellfire rained on them.

She followed, tucking his hand against her chest as she settled on the couch and laid her head on his lap, which prompted him to lift one thigh higher to support her neck. He began tracing circles in her hair and rubbing his thumb on her forehead.

In her position, she watched him pull the rag back down to cover his eyes.

“Then let’s start with,” she whispered, “what you saw when you met with Naminé. Where is Stormfall?”

He sighed, his body slackening despite the nature of the question. He let go of her hand to bring it around her waist and held her closer, as though she was too close to the edge.

“There was a long, white hallway with many doors…”

[boogiewrites]

Choking On Sapphires 85

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Genevieve (OFC)

Title & Song: Breakdown

Summary: Genevieve’s behavior comes to a head and Alfie is forced to act as the harsh voice of reason. He's left to act in his personal life as he does in his business where he does the things no one else wants or is willing to. But he'd do anything for his Genny. Song is Breakdown by Tom Petty.

Warnings/Tags: Language. References to assault and violence. PTSD. Angst. Drug Abuse. Trauma. Self Hatred. Fighting, verbal and physical. 

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.) Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT!

There had been a shift in the energy of the house after Claire and Genevieve’s altercation. Genevieve was trying to behave but finding it nearly impossible. The pull of the promise of relief from her medicine was too seductive to deny for long. Each dose was reacted to like some rare delicacy, with closed eyes and moans. She couldn’t control herself. Her mind was crowded with so much the more time passed. More memories and complicated waves of emotions she didn’t understand, left her feeling overpowered no matter what she did.

She was trying and it could be seen by everyone, but she would drop everything for her medicine and it was obvious there was still dependence there no matter how little they gave her. A nervous tick when it got close to the time for it, nose twitching and eyes fluttering, trying to stay still and waiting for someone to mention it because she knew she couldn’t first. Then she’d be given that look again, and she hated the humiliation that came with it.

She tries to fill the shame, the hurt and the anger with something. She studies, but that leads to headaches and a sore throat. She paints and the things that come out are dark and twisted and make those around her uncomfortable and worry about her. She dresses up, trying to see herself how she was, but it all felt like a sham. There was no confidence where it once lived. She eats and bakes, finding a productive distraction and gaining a slight bit of weight from where she’d lost it. But her appetite was still lackluster, the medicine saw to that. She wasn’t ready to try to add her former most favorite vice, sex, to the list but at least she could fathom the idea of it without becoming physically ill. Maybe things were getting better. But the voice in her head told her no as soon as the thought passed. That she was still very much broken and a failure, feeling slow in both mind and body still it was hard for her to be positive about anything. The depression was starting to set in.

With a memory that left something to be desired still, she’s grown the tendency to be forgetful. Clumsy and forgetful was preferred to hallucinating and passed out to everyone but her. The constant state of being aware of controlling herself left her exhausted most days and always on edge. She has the occasional tantrum, it couldn’t be helped, and with the lack of medicine given to help her calm down, it only made her angrier and fueled the fire of her fits. They were less often now, but more intense when they did happen. Big sweeping mood swings that took her wherever they wanted and she was was left to be used by her whims, whether the actions she took were something she wanted to do or not. They left her a crying mess. She only wanted to feel normal again. She didn’t know who this woman was that she’d become. She hates the anger she felt about her cravings for the medicine. She hates the flux of the ups and downs from it, but in her desperate moments, it’s the only thing that gives her some stability. She didn’t want to need it the way she did, another layer of anger born from shame. She felt weak and that was something she didn’t have much experience with.

On an afternoon spent dressing herself up for no reason, just passing time and listening to music to keep herself in good spirits she’s met with an undiagnosed stressor that had slipped between the cracks. A gossip hound by the name of Dorothy who did not have Genevieve’s best interests at heart. She was paid for information, not to tell that she was doing better. A saboteur sent in by one of the posh Jewish elite who did not approve of the Alfie and Gen’s underground lifestyle. Striking while the iron was hot and they were both at the most vulnerable they’ve ever been, Dorothy was there to make sure things didn’t run too smoothly for too long. Coming from the former biggest gossip in all of London’s employ, she knew how to stir a pot. And poor Gen, trusting those around her, as she had no other choice but to in her condition, never saw it coming.

“The horn section is lovely isn’t it?” Dorothy states, dusting around the gramophone.

The use of the word makes Gen’s nose twitch just as the maid knew it would. “Yes it is.” she answers with fluttering eyes and reaching for her large powder puff to fan herself with.

“I say, you’re looking rather glowing today, Miss. Like an inner light is coming out. I’m sure Mr. Solomons loves that you’re putting forth the effort in your appearance, hmm?” she makes casual sounding backhanded compliments as she moves around the room.

She sees Gen’s body language tighten and she keeps smiling as she works.

“You’ve put on some weight too I see. Filling out nicely. Looking healthy. All good things.” she chirps. “One would think there could be a little Solomons on the way with how you’re looking.” she gives an innocent scrunch of her nose and a kind smile. “Absolutely radiant.” she ends with a flourish. “And wouldn’t a baby be lovely? An excuse for all those sweets you’ve been making!” she lets out a light-hearted laugh. “Afterall, not many men would’ve stayed around through all this. You’re so very lucky to have Mr. Solomons. What a patient man.” she speaks softly.

“Yes. I am.” she mumbles, face turning downward now.

“Well, I’m finished in here. Anything else you need miss?” she asks putting a hand to Gen’s shoulder.

“No. Thank you.” she replies softly, eyes not meeting the maids, staring at her reflection in the vanity mirror.

“I don't care what anyone else says, I think you’re progressing just fine.” she gives a supportive nod. “Especially for what you’ve been through. My goodness. What a tragedy to befall such a woman who had such strengths. Surely a test. One you’re still working on mastering. We’re all waiting and watching...rooting for you Miss Durand. Have a good afternoon.” she says trotting out of the room, knowing the seeds were planted to make an eventful evening.

Every line had felt like a slap to the face for Gen. Every worry she had, some she hadn’t yet, all brought back out to the surface in a single conversation. If Gen had been herself she would’ve been impressed with the woman’s skill. Then she would have killed her of course for saying such things, but in this emotional state, she only felt sorry for herself. She looked at herself in the mirror. Were her breasts bigger? Was she getting too fat? Everyone was waiting for her to screw up again, she knew it. Apparently people were saying she wasn’t healing fast enough, but of course, they were. She wasn’t. And poor Alfie...he had been on the sidelines, merely a bystander in all this. It truly was a miracle he was still around. At this point he would be better off without her she thinks. She was only making his life harder.

Her eyes trail down to her stomach and she feels it flip with nausea. She had asked the doctor every time they were alone if her not bleeding was normal. There were no signs of pregnancy he said and the body can react wildly after trauma. That there was nothing he saw to worry about. But it didn’t stop the panic rising in her chest and bubbling up and out her throat in a choked sob. What if she was? What if a constant reminder of her weakness and this awful period of time we’re sitting right there. Taking root. It was her greatest fear and Dorothy had played into it seamlessly. All she had wanted before was to be pregnant. A happy accident, despite her timing the inward emissions of Alfie in her favor. Her mind had been all babies and happy thoughts attached and now it was of shame and upset. By far the biggest trigger of them all. She thinks of the children she’s seen. Wondering if they were a sign. Her dreams came true on occasion, so why not hallucinations?

Her hands clutch at the dress she wears, feeling sick rise in her throat. She gets intrusive thoughts of the time held captive again. Blood. So much blood. These were new, these weren’t her normal violent flashbacks, her eyes well up with tears and she starts to sob, feeling it all over again. Why was there so much blood she wondered? She feels it as if it’s real. Blood thick and caked on her skin, from her temples to her thighs, the sticky and awful feeling, the constant reminder of how battered she was. The constant worry there was too much of it, that was something was wrong with her. That panic takes hold of her and she starts wheezing, not catching her breath, holding her chest and gasping. She raises, wild-eyed and tries to make it to the bed to lie down, count like the doctor told her. But it was no use. This was too strong and she was too weak she thought. She knew what she needed.

She races in her tiny heels to the back innards of teh house to Aggie’s room. She’s in such a state she doesn’t hear Alfie calling for her as he sees her making a mad dash. Of course, his instinct is something is terribly wrong. And in a way it was, so he follows suit. He finds her on her knees with one of her hairpins in Aggie’s locked door.

His worry is replaced with hot anger, having to watch Gen give in and relapse in front of his eyes. “Gen!” he booms out and she doesn’t even notice. She barrels through the door and rummages loudly through Aggie’s things, finding the bottle of Morphine and finding it severely lacking in its contents.

She whimpers and whines, shaking it over her gaping mouth as she cries, mascara running down her face. She keeps wheezing, now at a total loss for how to handle herself.

Alfie barges in like a bull, one big swipe knocks the bottle out of her hands and it breaks against the wall. Her eyes turn large and terrified to him, but he doesn’t feel sympathy in the moment, only disappointment and anger. “Fuck’s sake Genevieve! Get ahold of yourself!” he says loudly as she cries, looking back over to where the bottle had broken.

“I can’t! I need it! I need it to STOP!” she wails loudly her head shaking back and forth dramatically.

“Gen!” he shouts again and she doesn’t stop, hands in her hair and groaning.

She was so desperate to make the fear and thoughts stop. But she just saw him there, silhouetted by that shifting yellow light over her. “I’m too weak. I can’t. I’m pathetic. It won't stop.” she pants, her face contorted into an ugly mash of pain and confusion.

“Get ahold of yourself woman!” he shouts, grabbing her tightly by the arms, making her stop hurting herself.

The rough handling of her snaps her from her self pity and kicks in her fight response. Her head snaps up, eyes dilated and black, intense as they glared into his own. “Don’t touch me!” she screams and struggles.

“I can’t fuckin’ trust you can I? Ya gonna fuckin’ hurt yaself!” he growls back as they wrestle back and forth. She was a lot stronger in the moment that he thought she could be in her condition.

“Stop it!” she fights back, kicking at him as he holds her up from falling and hurting herself, hitting something on the way down to the ground.

“No!” he yells angrily. “Look at you! Gen! Fuckin’ ‘ell girl CALM DOWN!” he roars, having to haul her back onto her feet.

She stops struggling and stands, face now full of betrayal as she shakes with the underlying anger.

“You need to get a grip on yaself Genny! Look at you! Why are you actin’ like this? Like a fuckin’ fiend! Are we going to have to lock you up next? Can you not be trusted anymore?” he asks with a low brow and harsh delivery.

“Let me go.” she demands, struggling against him mildly, her eyes looking more her old self in their fury.

“Fuckin’...NO! Why would I? Look at how you’re actin’! What is wrong with you?” he groans out loudly as her jaw clenches and she slaps him across the face, resulting in him very calmly letting her go and clenching his hands into fists at his sides. His nostrils flared and his eyes remained shut. He wasn’t going to hit her back. He wasn’t that sort of man. But she was bringing out the worst in him. They were bringing out the worst in each other.

“Don’t fucking touch me like that!” she shrieks, adjusting her dress. “I have a reason for acting this way! What about YOU?” she responds, shoving him out of the way and running off down the hall.

With her dress pulled high, she needed to escape. She needed out and away. She heads straight for the door, Joseph tottering after her as the staff had gathered cautiously to see what was happening.

“We’re going to London Joseph.” she announces with wild eyes and confidence to her face she hadn’t felt and no one had seen in some time.

“Miss I don’t think-”

“You are going to drive me to London or I will fucking DO IT MYSELF!” she screams as he hunches down and does as he’s told. What other choice did he have? “I’m not staying here. I can’t. I need to get out of my own head. I can’t stay. I can’t do it.” she mutters to herself, head shaking back and forth as they drive off as were her orders.

“Why are you just standing there! Go after her!” Aggie shouts in Alfie’s face, him standing where Gen had left him as he rubbed his temples.

“Send some of my boys after her. Watch her. We know what she’s fuckin’ doin’.” he shakes his head, his voice quiet and even.

“How are you so bloody calm?”

“Aggie... sweetie... calm is the last thing I am right now.” his voice was a deep hiss, his eyes almost hidden behind low brows. “But I...in my line of work have MUCH practice in withholding my true emotions. And I am using it to its full extent right now.” his jaw is tight, speaking through clenched teeth as he cracks his knuckles.

“But she’s ran away?”

“No. She’s going to get well pissed. That’s what she’s doin’. There wasn't enough of this fuckin’ JUNK to ease her and now she’s reverting to her immature behavior.”

“She’s not well Alfie, you need to remember.”

“IT’S ALL I FUCKIN THINK ABOUT YEAH?” he shouts in anger before composing himself and Aggie takes a step back. “I want to be so fuckin’ furious at her for this. I know I should be sympathetic. I know she’s not herself. But I am so close to just fucking off right now. And I know I don’t want to do that. And it’s all making me MORE angry because I can’t fuckin' control it. I control things Aggie, that’s what I fuckin’ DO. And I can’t her, right?”

“Neither can she. Remember that.”

“Oh, I do. And it just makes it worse.” he throws his arms up in the air. “I’ll go get her. Fuckin’... AGAIN.” he sighs and shakes his head. “I was prepared, yeah? To deal with the healing. I can grasp that. I can respect it. But this…” he motions to the broken bottle on the floor. “I’m having a bloody hard time respecting this.” he says with a groan. “This is just... weakness. This isn’t her. She’s not Gen when she’s on this shit.” he tells, walking around the bed and crunching the glass under his work boots. “There’s no more of this. Fuck that!” he says pointing to the same spot. “I’m done wif it. I ‘on’t care if the doctor says it’s helpin’, it’s fuckin’ not, right? Don’t get no more. Those are orders. You hear me? I know you’re soft Aggie but it’s time for some tough love for the old girl. Don’t ya think?” he asks, leaning over the small woman as she scrunches her face in a scowl. “This soft fuckin’ treatment innit doin’ a fuckin’ thing. She HATED bein’ coddled before. Remember? Do any of us ever remember fuckin’ BEFORE now?” he sighs and groans, rubbing his face.

“Yes sir.” she says coldly.

“Oh don’t give me that.” he responds with an aggressive nod. “Do you not think it’s time to reign her in?”

“I do. But I don’t like it.”

“Well, I ‘on’t fuckin’ LIKE it either! You think I want to be cruel to her? The woman I’ve promised to care for? To respect and protect?”

“It’s hard to tell with you lately.”

“Well, I fuckin’ don’t. But with someone like her…” he points in the direction Gen fled. “In a situation like this, perhaps sympathy isn’t what is needed. She needs a swift kick to the arse to make her see how she’s actin’. And I’m the only one what will tell her what she don’t wanna hear.”

“I hope you’re right. I’ll call the doctor and tell him no more medicine. In case she tries to get it herself.”

“Good girl.” he says giving her a strong pat the back and sauntering down the hall with hard steps that make his shoulder sway even more than usual.

-----

Genevieve had done exactly as Alfie knew she would. His men were out on alert for her in the city and they found her quickly. Out getting pissed at some east end shit hole where she didn’t have to pay for a thing.

“Alright. She’s had enough.” Alfie instructs, putting his watch back into his coat pocket. “Bring her out.” he orders with a flick of his wrist. “Be gentle but...make her. Try to appeal to her vanity. That usually works.” he states with a stern point of his finger to the lads given the job.

Gen, of course, did not want to leave. She didn’t want to see Alfie or hear about him or any man really. She wanted to be lost in the sounds and movements and be young and wild and free again. But the reality that she could no longer be any of those things, truly, would always come knocking. And in this instance, it was a few of the big boys of Alfie’s she knew. The muscle.

“Miss it’s time to go.” one says in her ear.

“No.” she declares defiantly. Like a child, really.

“Miss I must insist. We’re here on Mr. Solomons orders.”

“Fuck his orders.” she sass’s back and turns away and he takes her by the arm.

“We can take you out of here kicking and screaming but what would the gossip sound like if word were to get around, eh? So why don’t you walk out with us, and no one has to be any wiser as to what’s happening.”

She gives him a look that would normally make him worry, as he had heard about the things she’d done. “Don’t fuckin' touch me.” she growls, jerking out his grip. “Where is the bastard?” she spits out as she begins walking towards the door.

He waits, and it does take longer than expected. But there she came, mad as a wet cat, stomping, and hissing just the same towards his vehicle. She was uneasy on her feet, not stumbling but a drunken sway that told him he’d stopped her at just the right time.

He sits in silence, his hat on, cane in hand and posture straight as he makes her sit with her thoughts as they travel down the road. He eventually turns towards her and she’s pouting out the window.

“Gen, look at me.” he orders.

She, of course, doesn’t even acknowledge him. Sitting with her arms crossed and body language very clear she wanted nothing to do with him.

“Genevieve…” he warns. “Can you even hear me? Ya fuckin’ pissed innit ya?” he scoffs and waits.

She lets out a defiant huff through her nose.

“Fuckin’ look at me, woman.” he moves and takes her by the chin. He met with glossy and unfocused eyes and pouting lips. “Look at you…” he shames her and her lip quivers. “Fuckin’ mess.” he tsks and shakes his head. “Can you even respond to me ya little drunkard?” she speaks nothing and tries to move out of his grasp but he’s holding onto her too tightly. “Fuck’s sake Genny.” he presses his lips and sighs.

“I can.” she snaps back. “But what’s the fucking point?” she snarls.

“Because I asked you a fucking question dinnit I? Because you should explain this childish behavior. You’re not a fucking child. You’re not even that young, you’re a grown woman. You know better.” he speaks intensely but with a smooth delivery that makes her wants to slap him again. He was being too condescending. So patronizing it made her sick.

“Clearly I don’t.” she ejects back with a rough turn of her head that knocks her chin out of his grasp. He returns it slowly to the top of his cane.

“You’re some fuckin' junkie now and you’re just gonna give up? One bad thing happens and you just roll over and let your jellied brain just fuck you, eh?” he delivers harshly, knowing the words would hurt her, but it was his role to put the wild thing in her place before, and it only made sense he’d be the one now. He could handle her hating him. More people hated him than liked him, it wasn’t a bother to him. He knew that if she’d see a true relfection of herself, that she’d thank him one day for the honesty.

“One thing?” she shouts. “One fucking thing?” her voice cracks with emotion as she begins speaking with her hands. “My life has been nothing but bad things Alfie!” her voice was exhausted. ”One after another. Every fucking day!” she turns on her knees and screams at him. “I was there for DAYS, the things they did to me?! And you want to say it was ONE thing?” her French accent comes out, her finger pointing in his face as she let go of all that was building up inside her that the Morphine wouldn’t let her feel or communicate. “When you know how I was raised? What my father and his friends did to me? The kind’ve men I’ve had to get close to? The shit I’ve had to eat because of being a woman. ONE THING?” she screams in his face.

“And what good is complainin' and throwin’ a tantrum like a fuckin' little girl gonna do, eh?” he keeps his calm, and it makes her angrier. He should be as upset as her she thought. It wasn’t fair he got to be unbothered and she was left a mess.

“Fuck you Alfie!” she barks, sitting back and crossing her arms, looking out the window.

“I’d rather hear that then you feeling sorry for yourself.” he snarks with a raised brow. He was proud of her, actually. This was the most she’d talked about what had happened. She needed to feel these feelings, get them all out and that medicine had stopped it, stunted her and left her in an emotional purgatory.

“We can’t all have steel traps up here can we?” she replies, tapping her temple “We can’t all be fuckin’...made of stone and just push forward no matter what happens. Some of us are SOFT and FEEL things.” she answers with a quieter voice, but that did not mean she was less angry.

“If you think I don’t feel things you’ve not been payin’ attention.” his voice even, and lips pursed.

“So your reaction to my problem is to shake me and shout at me? To give me barked orders like a dog?” she questions incredulously.

“You haven’t listened to anythin' else.” he gives her a side-eyed glance and he can feel the heat radiating off her towards him.

“What else have you tried lately Alfie? Huh? I don’t even remember when I first came home, and I don’t remember you being soft with me once as of late. You’ve just given me that… fuckin’... look.”

“A look?” he answers a mild chortle.

“Yes like that! Like a disappointed father. Like you don’t even want me anymore. I’m just some burden to you.”

“Genny this behavior is a burden for a man like me.” he speaks plainly and it cuts her like a knife.

“Then why don’t you just fucking leave? If you hate me so much?” her eyes welling up with tears now, the anger shifting into hurt.

“I don’t hate you, but you’re actin' like a daft cu-.” he sighs. “I don’t hate you. If I did I wouldn’t be here right now. I wouldn’t have been dealing with the things I have for you... from you.” he answers with a curt tone, his hand laying out his point as he spoke.

“Do you think what a woman like me needs right now is cold indifference?” her head shakes back and forth, in disbelief at how he was speaking to her.

“I don’t know what the fuck you need any more to be honest. This whole thing has turned you into someone I don’t know.” his eyes were more honest now, she recognized it.

“I could say the same.” she glares back, hiding the swell of emotions inside her. She didn’t want to break down again. She didn’t want him to have the satisfaction. And that was exactly what he had wanted out of her. He didn’t care if she had to use him and spite for him to gain the want to control herself. He just wanted her to control herself.

She sulks the whole way home, the anger fading, turning to sadness with the tiredness that overtook her body. He followed her into the bed room, as if nothing was wrong.

“Why are you staying around me?” she snaps as he sees the softness in her face.

“Because I have to, love.” he replies as he takes off his coat. He knew another flare was incoming.

“Why are you being so mean?” her hard exterior breaks and tears start to fall.

“You want to know? Truly? Can you handle it Genevieve?” he asks with a mean face that shows so sympathy for her tears.

She nods, “Yes. I can.” she says defiantly through tears.

He takes a deep breath and gives her the truth. “Because I just want my Genny back.” he admits with a shake of his head. The brief softness in his eyes making a sob bubble up in her throat. “I don’t know who this drugged up woman is that runs off in the middle of the night.” his voice lacked bite, but still felt harsh as it came out. “You did it once, and I was sympathetic, your sister passin’ ‘n all. But not with this. Not after all this time.” his face hardens, straightening his posture and looking her up and down, judging her. “You’re smarter than this Gen.” he says with exasperation. “You aren’t who I agreed to be with right now. And I just fuckin’ want some relief, I just want my Genny back, love, that’s all.” his brow was hard, his words even more so as they hit her in the chest like a kick.

“I am your Genny.” she sobs, voice so small. Her heart was broken, her faults laid out plainly for her to see. She could no longer ignore them. “I am. I’m just... I’m…” she breaks down and begins to cry. The fog she’d been in gone, the cold reality of her behavior hitting her now. Feeling every little thing, most importantly shame for the right reasons for the first time since the incident.

“But you’re not though are ya?” he leans towards her, his face still cold to her. “You’re not her right now, sweetie. Cause my Genny? She wouldn’t do any of 'is.” he motions to her, half bent and sobbing into her hands as he begins to walk away to leave her to her catharsis.

“I am your Genny!” she shouts and her voice breaks and cries, tears and snot and the whole mess, months of backed up and delayed revelations coming at her, feeling alone and ashamed. She watches him leave the bedroom as she calls out, not seeing the hurt on his own face for putting her through this. But he knew it had to be done, it was his role to be the one to do the things no one else wanted or could.

He sleeps in his old room that night, giving her time to wail it all out. And she did. She cried herself sick. But she didn’t drink, she didn’t ask for medicine, she didn’t ask for anything. She sat in front of the fire, thinking about the past few months and let out everything in wails and sobs. A cleansing she’d desperately needed.

——-

The next morning Alfie's conscience is weighing heavy. It didn’t happen often and he hated the feel of it. But he’d slept like shit and heard her crying all night and had to deal with the dirty looks from Aggie and Claire as he rose from the spare room. He wanders into the kitchen, asking for Genevieve’s favorite tea and sweets. It isn’t questioned and he shuffles his way to her room with the serving tray balanced in his hands. House shoes scuffing the stone floors while his pajamas slicked together from the soft fabric Gen insisted on them being.

She’s asleep in the floor, laid out on pillows and blankets in front of a dying fire. Her hair was covering her face and most of her body, a silk nightgown just visible underneath the veil. He stokes the fire and feeds it, then standing over her and clearing his throat, causing her to stir.

She whines and rubs her face, pushing her hair out of the way of seeing before focusing her eyes on his shoes.

“Oh.” She says sleepily, “It’s you.” She lets him know she wasn’t too keen on seeing him.

“I brought ya your tea and biscuits.” He offers in a friendly voice. Much more polite than anything they exchanged the night before.

“Thanks.” She grumbles, pulling herself off the floor and onto the couch.

“Would you like me to make your tea? Fetch you a robe?” He inquires.

“No.” She answers quickly, moving to prepare her tea herself. “I don’t want to be fucking coddled.” She forced out through a smart tongue.

He doesn’t find himself annoyed at her behavior. Even though that was clearly the case for her towards him. She was a crumpled, sickly looking mess but she was indeed herself. And that’s all he’d wanted. He’d missed that spark, that justified emotion, even anger towards him. He knew she was feeling more herself with her demand and he felt a small glimmer of hope.

“How are you feeling this mornin'?” He inquires with a tilted head her way.

“Like hell.”

“You do favor it, sweetie.” He says with a rub of his chin.

She raises her eyes in a glare his way but finds his face not aggressive. ”You look just as well Alfie.” She snarls back.

“I’d not only agree but say I feel much the same.” He nods and purses his lips I’m hesitant agreement.

“I’m going through withdrawal and dealing with a bastard of a ma What’s your excuse?”

“Dealing with a woman going through withdrawl and being a right bastard.” He retorts.

She actually felt inclined to smile at the remark. That would’ve been the first in months. The first non-drug induced one anyway. Normally the comment would’ve been met with a laugh and a little pinch of the cheeky man. Perhaps even a kiss for the self-deprecating humor. But all he saw was a flash of sarcasm in her eyes, but that was indeed enough to satiate him for now. A “Mmph.” nodded is all he is given in the meantime.

“Do you need anythin' this mornin'?” He asks cautiously. She always asked for her medicine with breakfast when it was not freely given.

“No.” She sighs out, teacup resting on her thigh. “I’m afraid I don’t have an appetite for much of anything else anymore.” Her voice is even but her hands shake. Her color was poorly, dark circles under her eyes and a pale complexion. A light cast of sheen from sweat on her skin. Her stomach growls and she rubs it with a wince. “Just send Aggie in. I’m feeling rather weak in the absence of the medicine and I’ll be taking to my bed today I believe.” She rises and puts the back of her hand to her mouth for a moment, nausea sweeping about her insides.

“Will do, love.” He says with a polite bow. “Any cause to call the doctor?”

“No. There’s nothing he can do for this.” She shakes her head. “I’ll just have to suffer until it’s out of my system. And what is more suffering for a woman like me?” She shrugs and looks his way. She was tired, bless her, in so many meanings of the word.

“It is nothing for a strong woman.” He states supportively.

She lets out an amused laugh, a single forced exhale of “Ha.” A scoff really. “When I see one I will be sure to give her my problems.” She rolls her eyes and rubs her stomach again as it growl and squeals.

“Mirrors in the bathroom.” He motions and she shoots him a side-eyed glance. “If you need me further I’ll be only a phone call away.”

“I won’t require you.” She answers curtly, not looking his way. It was the first time she’d not pouted when he mentioned leaving.

“I will be home for tea. Perhaps you will feel up to having it with me?” He questions as he moves toward the door.

“Perhaps.” She calls out in response. She pauses in the bathroom doorway as he does the same to the hall. “Perhaps not.” She says with a shrug and an almost sarcastic face.

He only gives her a nod in response, shutting the door behind him. He should’ve felt a burn of her being cold. But he didn’t. He knew she’d be mad with him for some time. But he was ready to weather it. She could be as angry as she liked, didn’t matter to him. Not when their well being, their business, and her recovery were at stake. He’d take all the anger from her in the world to get his Genny back.

Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT!

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[mysticsparklewings]

Fly By Moon

I guess I'm a painter now? I've been kind of on a roll with the painting stuff in general lately, but in particular diligent Sparklers of mine may remember I recently posted Starfall Mountains, where I tried out some super cheap acrylic paints after the "Acrylic Paint Itch" started up in my brain. After that experience, I was pretty eager to find some better quality paints and hopefully have a much better time with it. I ultimately ended up with a set of Liquitex Basics paints, after having an internal turmoil between getting those or the Arteza Acrylic paints. (Since for my purposes and circumstances both sets would've worked out to about the same price.) Ultimately, I went with Liquitex because I've seen a lot of people say that the Arteza acrylics dry really quickly, even for acrylic paint which is known for drying fast anyway. So in order to use them, I would've most likely needed to also purchase a blending medium to mix with them so I'd have more time to blend things properly, and at the time I was making the paint purchase I didn't really feel like making the additional investment when I could just get another set of paints that I could, in theory, use straight out of the tube. And admittedly when going to purchase a set of "beginner" but since nice quality acrylics, I was already a little biased towards the Liquitex Basics line because I've heard it recommended by a couple of art Youtubers that I follow that have greater knowledge of acrylic painting than I. Either way, I may still end up with the Arteza acrylics at some point yet since I unexpectedly ended up getting both a bottle of blending medium and an airtight/keep-your-paints-wet-longer palette anyway so them drying quickly now wouldn't be the problem it originally would've been. (And if my experiences with their products have taught me anything it's that sometimes you just have to test them out yourself to see if they're going to work for you or not, regardless of what everyone else is saying) But we'll see. But back to the here and now. Shortly after I got the paints, we were visited by a Luna Moth, and overnight she attracted a mate. They stayed together for a day, and then the next morning he was gone but she was not. Another night and she had laid her eggs, and then she was gone. It is a simple story, but I thought it was cute.  And it gave me some references photos to use for my first painting! I've had some 8"x10" canvases laying around waiting to be used for the last half of forever, and so I grabbed one of those and got to work. Originally I had to figure out what I was going to do as far as a few logistics go; For one thing, acrylics are much easier to work with if you do the background first and work your way forward so that you can blend the bigger areas without having to work around your subject. So I had to figure out what I was going to do for transfer paper to get my sketch of Mrs. Luna Moth on top of A. Canvas and B. mostly Black paint. In the end, I ended up using some graph paper with a pale green Faber Castell gelato scribbled on the back of it, which actually worked really well, so if you have some gelatos and thin paper but not proper transfer paper, that might be something worth trying sometime. I did the background with a mixture of the two blacks in the set (Mars black which is more opaque and Lamp black which is more transparent), a light purple color, and a muted yellow kind of color. I was trying to go for the illusion of texture without having to actually commit to painting out individual sections of the black tarp the moth was sitting on in my reference photo. I wanted to get to the fun part of painting the moth, not spend an eternity trying to get a semi-realistic tarp background texture when it's not even the main focus. And to some extent, I think that's one of my bigger problems with acrylics paints, in general, is that you often have to commit way more time to small details or normally less important features like the background and textures and stuff because at this point it's more or less expected of the medium. And it's just that it's highly uncommon to do a subject on canvas and leave the background largely blank, unlike more traditional paper or digital drawings. Acrylic painting, by comparison, is a much bigger commitment as to how far you're willing to go to flesh out the piece and bring up to "acrylic painting standards." And I'm usually really not into that idea. But I can ponder with myself on that issue and potential ways to remedy it later. Anyway, once I was mostly satisfied with what I'd accomplished with the background, which consisted of a lot of "put paint on, cover it up, blend it out," repeated several times over (and yes I know this is not a very tarp-like end result but I was tired of messing with it), I used my faux-transfer paper to get my moth lines up there and then began the more satisfying part of the painting. In this instance, I was able to use the more transparent qualities of certain colors to my advantage, since when you really study the reference photo I was using, it's clear that the Luna Moth's wings aren't fully opaque, especially over the black. So I went in with varying mixtures of this pale bright green color, white, and using some of the light purple I'd used in the background to make a very pale gray color for some dimension on the wings. I also used some water to keep the paint fluid and to thin it out to be more transparent on occasion when I needed to. My process for most areas was to decide on what the base color seemed to be in the photo, get that down and some of the larger/more notable areas of shading, and then go back and start to fill in the shading on top. Which I feel like is the standard way of working with acrylics, but I could be wrong.   The hardest part (minus the background, which I did end up touching up a bit after the moth herself was finished) was actually the little eyelets on her wings, mostly just because of how much tiny detail there is to them in comparison to the rest of the painting. But with a very thin paintbrush, much patience, and a few back-and-forth layers of certain colors, I did mostly manage it. The shapes for the top wing eyelets are a little wonky, though even in my reference photo (because of the angle) they are noticeably asymmetrical from each other. Also, the partial eyelet on the bottom I tried to add a bit of shading to, but it's such a small space I'm sure it's still not quite right. I blocked out her top wings and did them and her body peaking between the wings first, then waited for that to dry down some before moving to her bottom wings, then went back to do some details and shading on the top. While they were drying, I did her head and that rust-colored bar along the top of her wings. Then I did the shading and details on her bottom wings, then shading and details on the wing bar & head. I saved the eyelets for last and mostly covered up their original placement markings in the process since I knew that was going to be a lot of tiny detail I didn't want to have to try and work around so I wouldn't mess them up. And at the very end, I added the faint yellowish lines near the edges of her wings with the metallic gold that came in the set, as the metallics are all a little on the transparent side and that seemed like a better, more subtle choice than trying layer on or mix exactly the right color with the non-metallic paints. Plus, it adds a nice little bit of interest when you move the painting in the light; and I added a thin layer to her antennae since they're roughly the same color as the pure gold anyway. I tried my best in both sketch and paint to stay true to my little moth friend's form, but her bottom wings did come out a little short both times and some details either had to be adjusted or lost due to my inexperience with acrylics (for example, I did the best I could with the shape of her antennae since I only had a paintbrush so small to work with and it still wasn't quite small enough for the teeny tiny fluffy bits). Despite that, I still think she came out really nicely. She's not super realistic, but she's not super cartoony either, and I think I like that look. Also if you decide to look really closely there may be spots of not-great canvas coverage of places where the canvas texture sticks out too much or something; This would be because I couldn't find it in me to wait until I could get a bottle of gesso (especially because gesso is often some expensive stuff), I couldn't find my bigger bottle of cheap white acrylic to do a stand-in base coat with that, and my internet research turned up no good alternatives I already had on hand. So I just forgoed the priming and went right to painting, which allegedly from what I've seen is a viable option, at least for acrylics and better quality level paints. It seems to be the priming is more "necessary" for oils and/or really cheap paints that may not have great consistency in the first place. (Although I've mentioned before that even then I've seen a lot of stuff that presents the idea of priming with gesso as more optional when you're working on canvas anyway, so...) I will also say that these Liquitex paints seemed to dry slower than I expected on the canvas; I didn't have to use one single drop of that blending medium I mentioned earlier, or spray the canvas with water to slow it down. I actually spent more time than I thought I would waiting around for layers to dry because I've been too chicken to bother with a hairdryer or heat gun to speed these or my watercolor paints up just yet. I don't know if I've had a skewed perception of acrylics all this time or the drying time is similar to cheap watercolors so I'm used to it already or if these particular paints just dry a little more slowly or what, but I'm beginning to regret one of my counts against acrylics having perpetually been that they dry too quickly. So far at least, that's seeming to not be that big of a deal. (Also, if oils dry as infinitely more slowly as I've been led to believe then I need to never oil paint because I will be so ridiculously impatient by the end of it from waiting for things to dry!) I'm not terribly sure how often I'm going to be acrylic painting from now on or even what my next one is going to be, but I have the supplies and intend on getting my money's worth out of them, and I definitely want to experience more with acrylics in general after these new experiences and realizations I've had with them. So we'll see how that turns out in the long-run for me in due time, I suppose. ____ Artwork © me, MysticSparkleWings ____ Where to find me & my artwork: My Website | Commission Info + Prices | Ko-Fi | dA Print Shop | RedBubble |   Twitter | Tumblr | Instagram

[what-even-is-thiss]

I see... people (ghost au)

Quick thingy before we start. I don’t write ghosts in the way they’re normally written. So, don’t go in with any normal expectations. Also, I tried my very best to write an autistic character here and I do not have autism so if I have made a major mistake I apologize.

Tip Jar

Warnings: Death and injury mention. Swearing. 9,675 words.

Abstract: Patton can see things that other people can’t.

Patton jumped into the car and threw his little mickey mouse backpack onto the floor.

“Woah, buddy. What have we talked about?”

“Sorry Virgil.” Patton said, picking up his bag and gently placing it on the seat.

“That’s better.” Virgil said.

The head in the passengers seat turned around and its owner reached onto the seat next to him and picked up a juice bag that he handed back to the five year old sitting in the back seat.

“You need help?” Virgil asked.

Patton punched the straw in, even remembering to put his thumb over it this time.

“Guess not.” Virgil said, turning himself back around and starting the car.

They started driving. Patton sucked on the juice bag.

“You’re being kinda quiet. What happened at school today?” Virgil said.

As he adjusted the mirror Patton caught a glimpse of his uncle’s eye makeup.

“My teacher thought your face was weird.” Patton said.

“Ah.” Virgil said. “What was it? The snake bites? Purple hair? Eyeliner? My big nose?”

“Your nose is not big!” Patton insisted.

Virgil chuckled. “I know, I just like to throw something else in there.”

“He said you’re too old to be dressing like that.” Patton said.

“Kid, punk isn’t dead and neither is emo. If your teacher can’t keep up I dunno what to tell him.” Virgil said.

“Dad says he likes your tattoo but he wishes you’d lighten up a bit.” Patton said.

Virgil had to restrain himself from slamming on the breaks. He took a deep breath instead.

“Buddy, you know that...”

“He’s not dead!” Patton screamed.

Virgil pulled over to the side of the road and put on the parking break. He leaned on the steering wheel.

“Verge?” Patton asked uncertainly.

“You’re not in trouble, buddy. Uncle Virgil just has to take a second. Just play the quiet game for a minute, okay?”

Patton started counting quietly. “One, two, three, four, five...”

Virgil smirked. Patton was probably trying to count to sixty.

“Forty nine, sixty!”

“Fifty comes after forty, buddy.” Virgil said. “No problem. I’m better now.”

They started driving again and Patton started talking about his new friend he’d met on the playground that day.

When they reached the little apartment complex where the two of them lived Virgil carried Patton’s bag up the concrete and metal steps and he handed his key with the batman ring on it to the little boy, who tried for two full minutes to use the key before handing it grumpily back to his uncle.

Just like every other day Virgil smirked and took the key from him before opening the door to their two bedroom apartment and handing the kid his backpack.

“Homework.” Virgil said.

Patton waved to the corner of the room.

“Hi, dad!” he said, before walking over to the little dining table in the kitchen and opening his homework.

Virgil sighed. Maybe he should just let the kid have his fun. He went into his bedroom to start working on a new comic.

Patton finished his homework and then carefully and neatly put all of his stuff into the little Power Rangers folder that Virgil had bought him for his last birthday. He pondered in his little mind what to do next. He looked in the corner and then beamed and ran over.

“You’re still here!” he said, running over.

A tall man with broad shoulders in a white t-shirt and torn red jacket sat in the corner on the arm of the couch beaming. His jeans were torn as well, but not in a tasteful way. The bottom of them had been scraped and burned half away and the once polished shoes he was wearing had burn marks all over them.

“Hello!” he exclaimed in a big voice. “All done?”

“Yeah! Oh, Oh, can I show you something?” Patton said, bouncing up and down.

“You know you always can, but be quiet. Your uncle must be in there working on his grown up comics.”

“They’re nice comics!” Patton said in defense of Virgil.

“How would you know? You’re not old enough to read them yet. Too much death, methinks.”

The man playfully made as if to poke Patton in the nose but his finger went right through the young boy’s face. Patton wrinkled his nose as if he suddenly had to hold back a sneeze.

“Hey!” he said. “That feels funny!”

“Come on, what did you want to show me?”

Patton ran into his bedroom and the man followed him, phasing through the door as he walked from the dark decorations and Tim Burton type aesthetic of Virgil’s living room and kitchen into the little five year old’s room painted light blue and full to the gills with stuffed animals and toy cars and discarded papers.

Patton picked up one of these discarded papers and went to hand it to him.

“Daddy can’t hold things, remember? Can you show it to me?”

Patton held up the paper. There was a little childish drawing of stick figures. Two big ones and one small one. One of the big ones had snake bites drawn by the mouth and the other had a crown on it. The little one was drawn in blue.

“That’s me, and that’s uncle Virgil, and that’s you, dad!”

“Patton, are you done with your homework?” Virgil called from the other room.

“Yes, Virgil!” Patton called.

Virgil stepped into the room, his usual jacket off and his makeup removed. His Evanescence t-shirt now quite visible and his combat boots probably discarded somewhere in the hallway or in his room.

“Who are you talking to?” Virgil asked.

“I’m talking to dad. I wanted him to see this.”

Patton jumped one, two, three times forward and then showed Virgil the drawing. He explained it to Virgil the same way he had to his dad. Virgil took the drawing and studied it. Patton eagerly flapped his hands in anticipation of his uncle’s response.

Virgil knelt down. He sighed and sat cross-legged on his nephew’s bedroom floor.

“Patton, I know you want your dad to be here, but he’s gone. There was a car crash. And a fire. It was so bad they couldn’t find even a piece of him afterwards.”

Virgil gently adjusted Patton’s little glasses and started playing with his hair.

“Roman was my big brother. It’s really hard for me too. I wish he was here, even if he did annoy me a bit.”

“A bit?” Roman scoffed. “You threw a chair at me one time for stealing your pencil eraser.”

“What?” Patton said. “Virgil, you threw a chair at dad for stealing your pencil? That’s mean!”

“Who told you that?” Virgil said.

“Dad.” Patton said, pointing to the bed.

Virgil looked amazed as Patton seemed to be paying very close attention to the bed and what it had to say.

“Uh. dad says, uh, to prove it to you, I should say that you uh, that um, what? Oh, that you peed your pants during the what? Mon-o-logue? Monologue unit in high school theater.”

Virgil was in such shock that he barely registered the little pokes and the little voice saying “Hey, hey, Uncle Verge, what’s a monologue?”

“So you see dead people?” Logan asked, making another mark on the graph paper.

Patton stared blankly at the 8th grade state testing standards sheet.

“Hey do you wanna get pizza later?” Patton said.

“You’re avoiding the question.” Logan said.

“I forgot the question.” Patton admitted.

“Do you see dead people?” Logan asked pointedly.

“I see ghosts, not dead people, Logan.” Patton laughed.

“Wait wait wait wait” Logan said, momentarily stopping his drawing of a curve, “Aren’t ghosts dead people? Are you telling me ghosts are alive? I don’t believe you.”

“No, they’re not alive, silly.” Patton said.

Logan looked over at the bookshelves in the school library and at the motivational educational posters on the walls. He could read. This wasn’t a dream.

“Okay then, what?” Logan said. “If they’re not alive or dead, then what are they?”

“They’re ghosts!” Patton said.

“Explain.” Logan said.

“See sometimes people should die, but instead they fall into another level of reality.” Patton said.

“So like another dimension?” Logan asked.

“No, like the world is like cake. Or like pancakes. OR like a double layer pizza, or...”

Logan snapped his finger in his friend’s face. “You’re off topic again. Did you remember to take your meds today?”

“I dunno. Virgil says I’m old enough to remember to take them myself now but sometimes I forget. I don’t like to think about it.”

“Okay, what were you saying? About the reality thing?”

Patton took out a piece of scrap paper and drew three lines on it all parallel to each other. He put a little dot on the top one and rocked back and forth a bit in his chair as he explained.

“This is where we are.”

He put a little circle on the bottom one.

“If you fall in here you’re a ghost.”

He put a little squiggle along the middle one.

“And this is what you fall through. I think that one has something to do with physics. I can see through it.”

“This is all very difficult to believe.” Logan said.

Patton seemed to think for a minute, studying Logan unusually carefully.

“Do you wanna see?” He asked finally.

“You mean you can prove it to me?” Logan said.

“Only if you’ll come for a sleepover at my apartment.”

“Is this a scheme to get me to finally come over to your house?” Logan sighed.

Patton smiled mischievously. “Mayybe. But it has to be this Friday.”

“The night of the blue moon?” Logan said. “But my mom...”

“This Friday.” Patton said. “Pleeease?”

“Oh, all right. I’ll talk her into it.”

Patton went back to his homework but didn’t stop happily bouncing for at least ten minutes.

That Friday after school Logan stepped into his friend’s small apartment for the first time.

“Why does it look like Halloween in here?” he asked.

“Because that’s how I like it.” came a deep voice.

Logan jumped slightly. There was a man who must’ve been in his early to mid thirties wearing all black and purple. His hair was purple, his piercings were black, his eye makeup was really black. His jacket was partially purple. His nails were somehow the darkest shade of black Logan had ever seen. The intricate lightning shaped tattoo visible where he’d rolled up his sleeves seemed really ominous.

Patton, wearing the school’s uniform  polo shirt in the lightest shade of blue it came in ran forward and gave the ominous looking man a hug.

“This is Virgil!” Patton said.

“That’s Virgil? The paranoid one you’re always talking about?” Logan sputtered.

“Hey.” Virgil said, giving a two-fingered salute.

Patton suddenly looked angrily at the couch.

“Dad! Why?” Patton said, seeming distressed. “That wasn’t very nice... No, I don’t wanna talk about it... Aren’t you the grown-up here?”

“I think if anyone’s the adult here it’s you, unfortunately.” Virgil said. “I dunno what he said but I’m sure it was rude. You morons get settled. I’m cooking dinner.”

“Virgil!” Paton exclaimed.

“I’m kidding, jeez.” Virgil laughed before heading to the kitchen part of the main room.”

“You didn’t know he was kidding?” Logan asked.

“Nope. That’s why he tells me when he’s kitten.” Patton said.

“You mean kidding.” Logan said.

“Nope!” Patton said, before running off towards a little mew noise.

A tiny black cat came running into the room, ready for dinner. Logan tensed up a bit when he saw it.

“Oh, of course. A black cat to finish the aesthetic.” Logan said.

“Put your bag down, kid. The decor doesn’t bite and neither does Sally the cat usually. Roman can’t bite because he can’t touch anything.” Virgil said from the kitchen.

“Dad says he’s... what? Offended by your... audacity?” Patton said, giggling. “That’s a fun word.”

Patton scratched the kitten as she ate and told her “And you have the awwwwwdacity of being so cute! Hey Logan, wanna meet her?”

Logan did want to meet the cat, actually, so he finally put down his backpack, overstuffed with schoolwork and clothes and medication and a toothbrush, and went over to humor Patton and the cat.

Patton seemed to keep saying things to someone that wasn’t there. In short, fun sentences like Patton always tended to use.

“I take it your father is here?” Logan whispered as Sally the kitten climbed around on Patton’s polo shirt.

Patton nodded and didn’t seem to notice much of what Logan was saying. He was too focused on the cat.

Dinner started at 7:30 exactly. Virgil had made macaroni and cheese and cauliflower.

Roman sat at the empty chair Patton had pulled out for him. He took his red jacket off and tied it around his waist. Didn’t want to lose that. Not like he’d lost everything else. He could smell the food, that’s what hurt. He kept smiling, knowing that if he did Patton would assume he was alright.

Virgil was better at reading faces though, and he didn’t know about the kid. No, just stay a little longer. Put up with it.

“That cheese smells divine. Is it?” Roman asked.

Patton nodded excidedly.

“Gone a bit quiet, have you?” Roman chuckled.

Patton nodded again.

“Too stressed and happy with all the unusual happenings, my prince?”

Patton nodded again.

“Well, that’s alright.” Roman chuckled comfortingly.

“So when does something happen?” Logan asked once the dishes were clear.

“Patton said something would happen around when the moon rises.” Virgil said, looking at Patton, who was humming and rocking on the balls of his feet, clearly daydreaming.

“Mr. Sanders, is he always like this?” Logan asked.

“Well that’s a question to ask while he’s still in the room.” Virgil said, giving the kid a look.

“He doesn’t mind. He lets me talk about him. I specifically asked for his consent on that before we came here.” Logan said.

“You’re a weird kid. I can see why he likes you so much.” Virgil said. “And yes, these piercings are real. You don’t have to keep wondering about that.”

Logan started. “But how did you...”

Virgil popped a towel and Logan jumped. The sudden action also scared Patton out of his daydream and then Virgil let out a deep chuckle.

“Gotta keep you boys on your toes. Be vigilant! Anything could happen at any time. Like popping a towel!”

He popped the towel again and the boys jumped again.

“For the love of Sondheim, what does he do when I’m gone, Patton? What a pernicious petty punk my precious preemie brother turned out to be. I am amazed every time I stop by.” Roman said.

“Did you hear an echo?” Logan said.

Virgil suddenly wrapped the kitchen towel tightly around his right hand, leaving his dominant one free. He held the wrapped hand to his chest like it would protect him as he slowly turned around.

“Oh. You heard that.” The see-through version of his brother said sheepishly.

“Nine years now.” Virgil said, keeping his distance.

“Happy anniversary to me.” Roman said in an empty tone.

“Nine years.” Virgil said.

“Yes, pop angst. Stop reminding me. I’ve been legally dead. You don’t have to remind me!” Roman said, knowing he would cry if he could.

“Nine years I raise your kid, I pay for your funeral and half of your friend’s, I fight tooth and nail to keep my publisher and feed your kid, I lie to our parents and work through disease after disease, comfort a child while I’m the one having a panic attack and the first thing I hear out of your goddamn mouth about me after nine fucking years of raising your kid like he was mine and dealing with you and a butt ton of other ghosts Patton attracts on top of every other damn thing is another insult? Are we twelve? Do you have an issue with how I’m raising Patton? I’m here, asshole. You knew I’d be able to see you tonight. You knew. Does mommy’s little prince have anything to say to me?”

Logan and Patton stood staring, mouths agape. Logan for the obvious reasons of a real ghost and being in a friend’s family drama, and Patton because he had just heard several sounds come out of his uncle’s mouth that he thought he was incapable of making.

A moment of silence passed with Roman under Virgil’s death glare. Then another. Then a third. Then Roman let out a slight chuckle.

“Oh, I always was way out of line wasn’t I?” he said. “You went and grew up, and I stayed a twenty eight year old fool.”

“Thirty seven year old fool now.” Virgil said, stepping closer but not unwrapping the towel.

“Nothing changes in here.” Roman said looking around. “It is more frustrating then your ageing apple can comprehend.”

He was close enough to Virgil now that he could poke his head and so he did. The finger went right through and Virgil stepped back.

“Ew.” he said. “Why does it feel like that?”

“I don’t know, but I’ve found it’s an easy way to annoy you when I’m here.”

“How long are you visible to us?” Virgil asked.

“Sunrise, probably. But everything is strange.” Roman said.

“Well, Patton?” Virgil said.

“Y-” Patton swallowed. “Yes, Virgil?”

“Do you think you can handle staying up late?”

“I don’t want to Virgil. Thank you so much for saying I can though. It’s bedtime soon. Can Logan stay up late?”

“I... I don’t think I want to stay up late either.” Logan said. “ I want to... work on homework before breakfast.”

It’s almost bedtime! Night nights!” Patton said. “Come on, Logan.”

“Wait just a minute, my little minion.” Roman said.

“What?” said Patton.

Roman walked up to his son and smiled. “You’re really special, Patton. You understand this, don’t you?”

“I’m no more special than anyone else, dad.” Patton said.

Roman looked at his hand and then smiled in that way that only an actor could.

“No, you’re a special person and tonight is a special night.” Roman said. “A night I’ve been dreaming about for nine years and I dreamed about before you were born.”

The ghost grabbed Patton by the shoulder and then pulled him into a hug. Patton knew this was huge but he didn’t stop to think about that. He leaned in and started crying softly. It was cold, by God was it cold, but it was undoubtedly real too. He leaned into Roman’s shoulder, knowing he’d probably never feel this again.

“I love you so  much, dad.” Patton said through tears.

“And I feel a deep affection for you as well.” Roman said.

“Hey!” Patton said.

“That is such a me move. How dare you.” Virgil said, a reluctant smile poking at the corners of his mouth.

Roman gripped his son’s shoulder. “I love you too. Now off to bed.”

Patton dragged Logan, who had been feeling more and more awkward by the second, into his room, and scooped up Sally the kitten along the way.

“He’s turning out to be a strange person, our Patton.” Roman said.

“Well, duh. He’s yours, and that actress friend you chose to carry him was pretty weird too.” Virgil said. “You know she ended up robbing a costume store like a month after your ‘death’?”

“No, I didn’t know. It’s difficult to stay in one place for long so I get most of my news from my visits with Patton and any other person with the sight I can find. They’re usually scared types that are used to being called crazy though so, like a worse, less emo version of you. Except for when they are emo.” Roman said.

“How did you just touch him, by the way?” Verge asked. “I can’t touch you. Isn’ there some strange psychic weirdness keeping you from interacting with anything?”

“I got a blue moon on the anniversary of my ‘death’ so the barier weakened just a little. That’s why you, who has never seen a ghost before, saw me. And like I said, Patton is special. He could already see me, so the next natural step was something more real. And of course he choose to go to bed still.”

“Well, that’s Patton for you. Something big happens and then he’s right onto the next thing. Memory worse than a goldfish. Sit down if ghosts can do that. We have nine years of catching up to do before sunrise.” Virgil said.

“I’d suggest wine, but I can’t exactly eat or drink.” Roman said.

“How about I drink Gatorade or iced coffee out of a wine glass and you look on with envy while we chat?” Virgil said.

“Sounds like a plan.”

Logan admitted the sound of a cat purring was quite soothing, and so was the shade of light blue that Patton’s walls were painted.

“See? I told ya.” Patton said, scratching behind Sally’s ears.

“How are you so casual about ghosts? And... why did you wait so long to tell me?” Logan asked, not taking his eyes off of the cat in his lap.

Patton smiled. “Because we’re best friends now.”

“How does that make such a big difference?” Logan asked.

Patton sat for a moment, seemingly looking for the right words. Sometimes the right words just came to him, sometimes it took the words a minute, some times when he was overwhelmed like when his day got messed with or a firetruck went past or a spider appeared the words went away altogether and all he was left with were feelings. Patton thought with his feelings and had to translate that into English. How did it make a big difference? How to explain that?

“I think honesty is great.” said Patton finally. “But too much truth too soon isn’t good. That’s what Virgil told me. No lies, but don’t tell everybody you can see ghosts. I know why now. They don’t believe me even though I do and ghosts like me and they’re all usually really nice people. I love them a lot, but not everybody does. Does that make sense? Was it too much?”

“No, I think you got it just right, Patton. Thank you for explaining. I know it’s hard for you sometimes.” Logan said.

“You talk like a teacher. That’s why I like you, Logan.” Patton said, smiling and resting his chin on two fists.

“Well I’m glad someone likes it.” Logan said.

“Sally likes it.” Patton said, giving the kitten on Logan’s lap a little nudge.

The young cat purred harder. Logan almost let a smile crack.

“Faster! This way! Faster, he’s in trouble!” called out the ghost.

Patton felt like his lungs were gong to burst. He held his cardigan in his hand as he ran. He now had a scrape on one arm from when he removed the cardigan and scraped his arm on a passing branch. The ghost running in front of him looked like he used to be important in the Victorian era or something. He was stuck being in his late twenties just like Patton’s father, He had a large burn mark covering the left side of his face. Patton wondered where exactly this man had fallen into the third layer. Somewhere fun, he hoped, but it was impossible to tell if he was from Britain or North America. Completely impossible.

“The little girl is just this way!” the ghost called.

He had said there was a little girl stuck under a log. Patton, with his tendency for extreme empathy and sixteen year old recklessness had followed the strange man but now that he’s been running for several minutes he wasn’t so sure anymore. Who was this man?

“This way! We’re almost there, young seer!” the ghost called.

Before Patton could register what was happening he tripped and fell.

And fell.

And kept falling

And tumbling downward.

He rolled down a hill, down a little ravine and landed in a tiny creek. The shimmering figure of the ghost could be heard laughing deeply almost like a cartoon villain from above. He was tall and brown haired and had a bowler hat. That’s all Patton took note of before he left.

Too many feelings, no.

“You’re too old to throw a tantrum. You’re too old to throw a tantrum.” Patton repeated over and over again.

He felt the scrapes on his body and the dirt on his legs and the tag of his shirt and his favorite cardigan lying beside him and his glasses crooked and broken sitting on his face. He heard the frogs in the distance and the cars in the distance and he swore he could hear his own fast beating heart but most of all he felt. Betrayal by a stranger. Loss for his glasses and not knowing where he was.

“You’re too old to throw a tantrum. You’re too old to throw a tantrum.” Patton repeated as the movement of the wind became too much.

He started crying and pulling on his hair.

“Too old to throw a tantrum! Too old to throw a tantrum!” He screamed.

That devolved into just normal screaming and crying.

Virgil paced the floor as he listened to the dial tone on the other end. When the inevitable “Hello” came he jumped.

“UH, hi Mrs. Thomas. This is Virgil Sanders, Patton’s guardian. You know Patton?... Yes, he is friends with your Logan. Mrs... Yes I... Was he at your house any time this afternoon?... He wasn’t at the park and he hates breaking routine unless your Logan talks him into it so I thought... Well no, he didn’t want to have that looked at and I respected his wishes. This is off topic... Look, do you have information about my child or not?... Yes, thank you. Tell Logan to text me if any of their friends knows something. He has my number for emergencies still... Thank you, Mrs. Thomas.”

Verge fell to his knees as soon as he pressed the button to end the call and then fell onto his back. The nervous energy was becoming overwhelming. It hadn’t gotten this bad in years.

He eventually got himself together enough to call the police. That was an adventure in itself. Police don’t seem to like thirty somethings with multiple piercings or want to take them seriously.

The little girl hummed as she walked along the stream. Her little torn Easter dress bounced as she walked. She must have been ten or eleven years old both physically and mentally.

It was just starting to get a teeny bit warmer. She couldn’t feel it, but tiny flowers were starting to show up sometimes. She wished she could pick them, but her hand went right through them.

She hummed a little tune about ducks. Were there ducks in this stream? No, there were crying sounds in this stream.

The little girl ran towards the noise. Her long dark hair flew behind her in a swirly, otherworldly pattern as she sought it out. It was a boy. Or a grown up? A teenager. He was normal. Wearing a very dirty blue polo shirt. He probably couldn’t see her.

“I wonder why he’s sad.” She wondered allowed.

The teen jumped at the human voice and the girl jumped too.

“Oh! You can see me!” she said in surprise. “I’ve heard of that. My name is Valerie.”

Valerie was just met with terrified silence.

“Español?” She asked.

The teenager shook his head.

“English?” she said.

He nodded and shakily placed a bent and cracked pair of glasses on his head.

“P-Patton. Hi.” he said, clearly struggling to talk.

“Are you trying to look happy?” Valerie asked.

Patton smiled, trying to imitate his dad. It didn’t work.

“You have spinach in your teeth.” Valerie noted.

Patton laughed a little. He wasn’t exactly sure why. Maybe such a normal ghost encounter after such a catastrophic one was funny. He looked up. How long had he been upset? How long had he been wandering before that ghost had tricked him? The sky was dark now. The girl was glowing like a willow-the-wisp.

“I have a bright idea.” Patton said suddenly.

“Does that have to do with how I’m glowing?” Valerie asked.

“Yup! Do you know the way back to town, Valerie? I need to get home.”

“Oh, yeah I know the way back to town.” Valerie said. “I’ll help you.”

Patton got up, ignoring the torturous stiffness in his joints and the pain on his scrapes as best he could and followed the little girl back down the stream.

“My phone is probably waterlogged now. Virgil will never let me hear the end of it.” Patton said.

“Who’s Virgil?” Valerie asked as she stopped to let Patton catch up.

“The best uncle ever, and kind of like my dad, but he’s my uncle.” Patton said. “He let me get a cat. Her name is Sally like from Nightmare Before Christmas. She really likes people, just like me.”

“You like people?” Valerie asked.

“You betcha, kiddo.” Patton said happily. “Especially ghost people.”

Patton looked like he very much would’ve liked to touch her nose or rough up her hair and for once Valerie was happy she phased through everything, because she was getting too old for that. Or... was. Who was this guy?

“You seem pretty happy for somebody who was just crying and hurt.” Valerie said, pausing again to let him limp up to her. “Aren’t you a teenager? My mom always said teenagers are grumpy.”

“Not me.” Patton said. “I get tired easy I think, but thankfully I really like naps.”

They reached a point where the large ditch the stream had cut through the earth over time got a little shorter.

“Are you okay?” Valerie asked, indicating the climb.

Patton considered it. He didn’t have a very good reaction time. His years of being hit in the head with dodgeballs and every other number of things informed him this was true. So if he slipped he’d probably just fall. The ghost girl could just walk into the ground and then float back up out of it. He considered all of these facts for a moment.

“Well, I really need to get home.” Patton said. “Wait for me at the top please, miss?”

Valerie nodded and then walked into the wall of rocks and dirt.

Patton adjusted his broken glasses and shook his hands. He took a small painful jump forward one, two, three times. Good enough. He climbed the six feet of the wall, humming as he did so.

“Oh, that was a climb.” Patton said.

“You did a good job.” Valerie said encouragingly. “I would’ve fallen over.”

“Well I’m a bit older and taller than you, kiddo.” Patton said. “Now which way?”

The police were not being helpful at all. Virgil was absolutely spent from making phone calls but he couldn’t sleep. He was standing in his friend Terrence’s living room, pacing so fast he was in danger of putting a rut in the carpet. He rambled on over and over.

“And what if he’s scared? He doesn’t talk much when he’s scared. I mean, I taught him how to ask for help when he was very little but what if he can’t explain where we live? What if he forgot our address again? His memory is terrible. And what about the ghosts? It’s winter and those damn things are everywhere around this time of year. They fucking migrate like birds or something.”

Terrence, who was too short to comfortably reach Virgil’s shoulders without it feeling awkward stepped in front of his friend and put a hand on his chest.

“You need. To calm down. Patton stopped forgetting your address years ago.”

“But...”

“You’re getting worked up again.”

Virgil took a second. He was getting all worked up again. He took a deep breath.

“It’s gonna be fine.” Terrence said.

“But what if it isn’t?” Virgil said. “Remember the last time someone went missing?”

“You have a point.” Terrence admitted.

“I’m gonna look for him myself.” Virgil said, grabbing his jacket off the chair and rushing out.

“Not by yourself.” Terrence said. “Wait up, I’ll ride shotgun.”

Valerie pointed at some lights in the distance. “There’s town. I think I need to go now.”

“Can’t stop moving?” Patton asked sympathetically.

“No.” Valerie said sadly.

Patton nodded. “My dad’s the same way. I miss him a lot when he’s wandering around.”

“He still hasn’t found his way out?” Valerie asked.

“No, but I think someday he will. And hopefully you will too, Valerie. I think you can. I’m rooting for you.”

“You’re really nice, Patton. Most of the seers I hear about are sad old people.” Valerie said.

“Thank you, Valerie. You’re really nice too. Do you have to go now?” Patton asked.

“Yeah.” she said. lowering her head.

“Do you need an air hug?”

“Yeah.” Valerie said, starting to sniff.

Patton held out his arms and the girl did the same and they pretended to hug.

“Good luck, Valerie! Thank you!” Patton said.

Valerie smiled and then vanished back into the trees. Patton took a breath and mentally prepared himself to walk on his own and then started walking towards town. The weeds on the side of the road poked through the rips in his pants. He hugged his now muddy cardigan. He couldn’t put it on, but it was a little bit cold. He hadn’t noticed that when he had someone to talk to.

Twice he had to take a break to do nothing for a while on the side of the road before moving on, humming to break the late winter silence. When he finally reached town he figured out he was in the industrial part and mentally went through all the street names before deciding which way to go.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to walk very far.

“Patton!” he heard.

Was... that was Terrence! Virgil’s friend Terrence!

“Patton!” he heard a different voice say.

Virgil! That was Virgil! That was exciting. He should call back. He should... oh no.

He couldn’t bring himself to yell back. This was all a lot to process. He’d been stressed all day and now this was important. Too much. He started running, almost falling over cracks in the road more than once. He started to hear a car stalling.

“I don’t think he’s here either. Maybe you’re right.” Virgil sighed.

“Do you need me to stay over tonight?”

“No, I...”

Thump.

“What in the hell was that?” said Terrence.

Virgil got out of the car and walked to the trunk. There was someone doubled over next to it clutching their stomach. Virgil turrned on the phone on his flashlight.

“Hey! What are you... Patton! Terrence, it’s him!” Virgil called.

Terrence rushed out of the car and looked. There was the teenager, doubled over in pain and quietly laughing while Virgil tried to encourage him to speak up.

“I don’t think he’s talking. He won’t move, but he’s laughing.” Virgil said.

“Here, I’ll pick him up. Help me out.” Terrence said.

Virgil helped place his nephew in Terrence’s arms. It looked almost comical, a 5′10″ teenager in the arms of a 5′4″ thirty-something, but Terrence could handle it. Virgil spent his days drawing. He opened the door for Terrence to gently place Patton inside the car. Then Virgil gently picked a couple of leaves out of Patton’s hair and coaxed him into putting the seat belt on.

Once the two men had gotten into the front, they looked back to see that Patton was already asleep. Virgil sighed and pressed his head against the steering wheel hard before starting the engine.

“What do you think happened?” Terrence asked.

“He’ll tell me later.” Virgil sighed. “If he can find the words for it. You want me to drop you off? I think I can take it from here.”

“If you’re sure.” Terrence said.

“I’m never sure about anything.” Virgil said. “But yeah, I can probably handle it. Remember when he ran away from home?”

“Oh, yeah.” Terrence giggled. “Right after Roman vanished and you still had no idea how kids work.”

“Especially Patton.” Virgil said, a small smirk appearing on his face. “Patton is special.”

Virgil started to visibly relax a bit more. He started taking turns a little slower and driving more casually. Terrence smiled and looked out the window. How he had ever gotten caught up with the Sanders family he didn’t know.

“It was when you and Roman were in Anything Goes.” Virgil reminded him.

“How’d you know I was thinking about that?” Terrence asked.

Virgil shrugged and gently brought the car to a stop in front of Terrence’s house.

“Once in a while I just know things.” Virgil said.

He looked back at Patton sleeping in the backseat and smiled ever so slightly. “Maybe our whole family is just weird. Promise I would’ve already told you if it happened more often.”

“Well, life with you just continues to be weird. I’ll see you next Friday.” Terrence said, unbuckling.

“Hey, did you ever hear if Jo is gonna make it?” Virgil asked.

“Nah, I think he’s still out of town.”

“Alright. See you then if I don’t chicken out.”

Virgil waited for Terrence to close the door and get into the warm looking house and then started the car. He heard a small tired hum from the back.

“Waking up?” He asked, turning around.

Patton nodded and whispered “I messed up today, but I learned from it, so it’s okay.”

Virgil sighed. “That’s good. That’s good.”

When they got to the apartment Patton needed a little support getting up the familiar steps. When they got to the top Virgil handed Patton his key even though Patton had his own and Patton opened the door before handing the ring back. Virgil turned on the lights.

“So can you explain yourself?” Virgil asked, folding his arms and leaning against the door.

Patton looked terrible in the light. There were scratches all over him, a large amount of dried blood on his leg, mud and leaves stuck to his clothes and hair. His favorite cardigan was covered in sand and mud and balled up in his fist. His light blue polo shirt was torn in several spots. His cargo pants were torn beyond repair. For the first time in a long while Virgil saw that there wasn’t even the ghost of a smile on his nephew’s face. Normally there was at least a small amount of playfulness there, but tonight there was nothing. Small tears had started at the sides of his eyes.

“I... I thought... this ghost said somebody needed help but he tricked me and I fell down.” Patton said.

“Where?” Virgil asked.

“I don’t know.” Patton whispered. “I got lost and I know I’m too old to now but I threw a tantrum. I’m really sorry. A little ghost named Valerie helped me find town again.”

Virgil sighed. “Go take a shower. I’ll wash that sweater for you. I promise it’ll be okay. You’re not grounded.”

A small smile appeared where it belonged on Patton’s face. He handed his cardigan over with a “Thanks, Verge!” and ran to the one bathroom in the apartment.

Virgil didn’t feel like going down to the laundry room so he took his oversized hoodie off and threw it onto the sofa before reaching into the kitchen cabinet and pulling out a plastic washboard. He filled the sink with water and started scrubbing the sweater, the movement and smell of soap helping to clear his mind.

“Go ahead and ask. I don’t mind.” Virgil said.

“How’d you know I was here?” Patton asked, walking in wearing grey pajama pants and a white t-shirt. “Aren’t you gonna ask if I cleaned my scratches?”

“You already did, right?” Virgil said, carefully wringing out the cardigan before hanging it over a dining chair to dry.

“Yeah...” Patton said, seeming suddenly a little put off.

“You were gonna ask about the tattoo?” Virgil said, drying his arms off. “I was always surprised you never asked, really. Go ahead.”

Patton studied Virgil’s left arm. He was usually wearing hoodies or leather jackets so it was often covered up, but on the occasion he did have bare arms the tattoo was visible. It was black and cracked and spread out like lightning over the night sky in summer and it looked a little ominous against Virgil’s white skin.

“What does it mean?” Patton asked, sitting down and putting his chin on his fist.

Patton smiled wider as he witnessed his uncle crack a small grin. That didn’t usually happen unless they were teasing each other.

“I got it after you showed up.” Virgil said. “There was a thunderstorm on the night you were born. I never wanted any kids of my own so Roman having one was the biggest deal. I wanted my first tattoo to have something to do with you.”

“So was it because of the rainstorm?” Patton asked. “That’s weird.”

“No, it’s because I hate thunderstorms. They make me so anxious you can’t even imagine. But... when you were a baby you always laughed during thunder storms.”

“I think I still do that.” Patton said with a giggle.

“You laugh at everything that’s not firetrucks or Sprite.” Virgil said, throwing the towel at Patton.

Patton threw the towel back “Sprite is the wrong kind of bubbly. I can’t stand it!” he said, a laugh in his voice.

“You always did recover fast, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t forget you knew what I was gonna ask.” Patton said. “I’m not that dumb.”

“Nobody thinks you’re dumb.” Virgil said. “Especially not me. And because you didn’t forget I’ll just tell ya. Sometimes I just know what people are thinking about.”

“Like how often? Is it anything like me with ghosts?” Patton asked

“No. And it happens every couple days maybe. But with random people. It’s not too often it happens with someone I know. Maybe once every few months. I never told you before because I didn’t want you to think I was getting in your private business and I can’t control when it happens. Part of the reason I’m such a shut-in you know. Tonight it’s been happening a lot though. Maybe ‘cause I’m anxious, I dunno.”

“But you’re always anxious.” Patton said.

“More anxious than on beverage.” Virgil said.

“You’re not gonna let me forget about that, are you?” Patton said.

“Nope. Now text your friend and tell him you’re not dead. Do you wanna take the day off of school tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, text your friend. Goodnight.”

“I love you, Verge.” Patton said, heading to his room.

Virgil looked out the kitchen window to see a rosy color over the horizon.

“Love you too, buddy.”

“...and that’s why existentialism isn’t a practical philosophy for the modern world.” Patton finished.

Logan stared and blinked. He looked at his watch.

“That was thirty minutes of talking.” he marveled.

“What?” Patton asked.

“I asked you what your homework for your 19th century philosophy class was.” Logan said.

“Oops.” Patton said sheepishly, starting to tap nervously on the table.

Logan held out his hand and looked around the bookshelves of the library.

“No, don’t freak out. It was fascinating. I just didn’t think you knew that much about existentialism.” Logan reassured his friend.

“I am a philosophy major.” Patton mumbled.

“You’re right, you’re correct.” Logan assured him. “I’m just, you know, caught up in organic chemistry all the time so I hardly take the time to remember that...”

A book fell off of a shelf near them. They both stared at it.

“Was that one a ghost?” Logan asked, adjusting his glasses nervously.

“Yup. Nancy. Hi, Nancy!” Patton said, waving.

He recoiled at whatever the ghost had said.

“Rude?” Logan asked.

“Yeah, a little bit too much.” Patton said, starting to tap on the desk.

Logan tried to return to the formula he was memorizing but kept getting distracted by Patton’s tapping and apparent tracking of the ghost’s movements.

Logan sat up straight and took a deep breath. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something for some time.” He said.

“Are you okay? You’re sweating. Maybe they should Lo-wer the temperature in the library for Logan.” Patton said.

Logan sighed. “Have you ever been tested for autism?”

Patton squinted but kept smiling. “Was that an offensive question?”

“No. I’m looking for information. Remember my friend Emile?”

“I think so. He was being haunted, right?” Patton asked.

“Yes, he was being haunted.” Logan said. “He’s working on his doctorate in child psychology and says you show a lot of signs of an undiagnosed adult with autism.”

“Oh, I thought you were going to say I threw a tantrum and forgot about it again or something.” Patton said in relief.

“What?” said Logan.

“Oh, I didn’t need to see a doctor about it. I’ve just known. I need to get to class and maybe talk to Nancy about knocking books over. Bye!” Patton said, gathering up his stuff and leaving.

“Wait! How can she knock books over?” Logan called back.

“Nobody knows! Ghosts are weird!” Patton called back as he left. “No, not like that, Nancy. No, I don’t care who hears me. You’re making more work for the staff.”

Patton disappeared and then an entire shelf of books fell off of a shelving unit all at once. Logan decided to move to a floor of the library that wasn’t haunted.

Patton concentrated on getting to class as best as he could. He was a super senior now and twenty four so you’d think that he would know his way around campus by now, but his memory kept failing him. On the bright side, he had managed to make friends with a lot of people he regularly asked directions from. However, today something was destined to happen that was even more surprising than getting lost on campus.

“Patton!” he heard. “Patton, is that you? Patton!”

Patton finally registered that his name was being called and he turned around. A girl who couldn’t have been more than fifteen was running towards him, her raven black hair flying out behind her.

“Valerie?” Patton asked, his eyes widening in  wonder.

“Yeah, I’ve been trying to find you for four years now!” Valerie said.

Patton started bouncing. “Oh my gosh, you’re not a ghost anymore!” he exclaimed.

It was apparent that Patton was having a difficult time restraining himself.

“How did you get out? How did it happen?” he asked. “Why are you at college? You got taller!”

Valerie smiled. “I fell back in my mom’s garden and... here I am. I don’t know how really. I lost six years of ageing though and was still eleven when I found my way out but, I’m here, yeah. And, I was getting a tour through my high school. The theater department has programs for high school students here. It’s a long story.”

Patton’s mind was racing. He smiled wide and held up one finger and then reached into his pocket and opened the notes on his phone where he typed furiously and then handed it to her. Valerie read the note.

“That is so great. I’m so happy! I was wondering why you stopped coming to the woods in the winter. I was worried about you. But you’re back and that is so nice!”

Valerie smiled at the note and handed the phone back.

“Can I hug you? Is that okay?” Valerie asked.

Patton nodded and embraced the girl who still wasn’t quite used to the realness of hugs again after all this time.

“I’ll find you later, Patton. Thank you so much.” Valerie said before running off.

Patton realized that he never even asked her for a phone number. A ghost back in the world of the living. Patton remembered going out into the woods in winter to find her after Valerie had helped him get home when he was sixteen and had been tricked by that ghost (who apparently had tried that stunt with some other people with the sight before but only Patton had fallen for it). She had always been in her torn white Easter dress and straw hat. Always eleven years old with bruises on her face from falling down the steps from her mother’s house where she had fallen into the layer of slightly less reality. She had stopped showing up after a few years.

Patton continued walking to class. Hopefully nobody called on him to discuss anything today because he was far too excited to talk.

Later that week Virgil handed Patton the key and Patton opened the door of the apartment before handing Virgil his key back. Virgil stuffed the keys in his pocket.

“You know, I originally started doing that to teach you how to use keys.” Virgil said. “Isn’t it weird that we still do that whenever you come here?”

“I like it.” said Patton. “It’s something we do together.”

“You always were a sap weren’t you, Patton?” Virgil said fondly. “Hey, that reminds me. I’ve got something to show ya. Have a seat.”

Patton had a seat. An old woman walked through the wall, in an old 50s nightgown.

“Where’s Jenise?” The old woman asked angrily.

“Jenise has been dead for over thirty years now Mrs. Anderson.” Patton said politely.

“Hmph. Never telling me where to find her. I’ll find her, you young idiot. And don’t think I don’t know what you did with your boyfriend that night. You’re lucky your uncle can’t see me.”

“I broke up with that boyfriend six years ago, Mrs. Anderson.” Patton reminded her.

“You’re just saying that to cover up!” Mrs. Anderson said angrily.

She left, hobbling through Patton on her way to phase through the door. Patton got shivers all through his entire body and began shaking violently.

“Okay! Here’s the box. I’ve got to sign a few... Oh, Patton was it one of the regulars again?” Virgil asked, coming in with a huge cardboard box.

“Just Mrs. Anderson.” Patton said, putting a happy face on. “It’s okay.”

Virgil suddenly winced and then put the box down.

“Valerie?” he asked. “And no, it is not okay.”

He rushed over and Patton let him take off his jacket and put it around him.

“What’s with Valerie? She’s out?” Virgil asked.

“I guess you heard a lot.” Patton said, pulling the hoodie close around himself.

“Yeah, sorry. I can’t stop it. Do you want to talk?”

“I want to see what’s in the box.” Patton said.

“Okay, you sure you’re okay? I know how you get when a ghost full on walks through you.”

“Come on, what’s in the box? You got excited. You’re never excited.”

“Oh, alright.” Virgil said.

Virgil pulled a knife out of his pocket and opened the cardboard box, revealing stacks and stacks of the same comic style new book.

“Your graphic novel?” Patton asked. “The one with the vampire cats?”

“Yeah. check this out.”

Virgil picked up one of the fresh new books and pointed to a little banner on the top. Patton read it quietly and then his eyes widened.

“You made the bestseller list!?” he exclaimed.

“Now don’t act so surprised.” Virgil said in his fake cocky way.

Patton shook the book around in his hands so excitedly Virgil thought he might start vibrating. He squealed and then pulled his uncle into a hug, abandoning the hoodie on the floor.

“Well what do you know? I guess dad was wrong.”

Patton looked up. “Dad!” he exclaimed.

“Tell Virgil I’m very happy for him.”

Patton repeated what Roman had said. Virgil smiled at that.

“Well I’m gonna go rub these in the noses of some people.” Virgil said. “I’ll leave you two to... whatever it is you talk about. You’re both far more feelingsy than I am.”

“Don’t crash the car.” Patton said after him as he left with the box

“Don’t give me a panic attack.” Virgil shot back before closing the door.

“So, hi.” Roman said.

“What’s wrong?” Patton asked.

“I overheard some things and from what Virgil was talking about, it sounds like they’re true. Someone got out, and you knew her.”

“Yup.” Patton said.

Roman sighed and looked at Patton. He sat down on the couch leaving no dent in the cushions.

“You’re almost as old as I am now.” Roman said sadly moving his hand in a way that wasn’t quite touching his son’s face but was close enough to seem affectionate.

“I don’t care. You’re still my dad.” Patton reassured him.

“I missed everything.” Roman said. “I missed my own life. I missed your life.”

“Is that why you came here?” Patton asked.

Roman shook his head. “I can’t remember why I came here anymore.” he admitted. “And... I may have to leave soon again. Staying in one place feels more and more like a losing battle than before.”

“I’ll still be here, in this city if you want to talk.” Patton said.

“I think I’m past the point of talking, my prince. My imprisonment here is old enough to drink. If I’m not careful I’m going to end up like old Mrs. Anderson that haunts this dump. Or that strange burnt Victorian fellow that keeps trying to convince me he’s British for some reason.” Roman lamented.

“He also has a weird obsession with snakes.” Patton said.

A tired old meow sounded from the next room.

“Oh, it’s that cat!” Roman said.

Sally the cat looked sternly at Roman before jumping into Patton’s lap and quickly getting comfortable. A few grey hairs were mixed in with the black ones now.

“Sally will keep away the snakes.” Patton said happily. “And that weird Victorian ghost doesn’t like cats for some reason.

“I call him Deceit.” Roman said. “And yes. Some suspect he used to be allergic to cats but of course you’ll never get a real answer out of him.”

“How much longer do you have here?” Patton asked, rubbing Sally’s head.

“An hour, maybe. If I really try.” Roman said. “And I will try.”

“Why do you still live in this apartment?” Logan huffed as Virgil handed Patton the key to open the door.

“Because it’s where I’m comfortable, so shut up. I’m getting too old for this.” Virgil said, taking his keys back.

“You’re only forty six, Uncle Verge.” Patton said, inspecting a box.

“So do you want to donate this one?” Virgil asked.

“Yeah, I think so.” Patton said.

“Good, I’ll put it in the car.” Logan said, picking it up.

“Oh, this place is gonna feel so empty.” Virgil sighed. “You’re sure you’ll be okay?”

Patton giggled a little. “I’m twenty eight, Verge. I haven’t lived here for a lot of years. I’ll be okay. You taught me better than to be stupid,  remember?”

“Yeah, but you kept your stuff here.” Virgil noted. “And, you know. You’re leaving the state. With your friend. And like... working at a big university. It’s a big change and, you and I both don’t do great with that.”

Patton looked at the snake bites still on his uncle’s bottom lip.

“I know.” He said.

Virgil’s pocket started buzzing. He pulled his phone out and checked the number.

“The hospital?” Virgil said. “Why’s a hospital calling me?”

“Are you gonna answer it?” Patton asked. “You can do it.”

“You and your encouragement, I swear.” Virgil mumbled, unlocking his phone. “Hello? Yes, this is he? Brother? But my... How tall? The leg? No, they didn’t. Okay, I have his son here. Is it okay if... Okay, great. No, I understand. Yeah. Thank you.”

He hung up the phone, took a deep breath, and then exhaled.

“What was it?” Patton asked, nervously putting his hands in front of his face. Virgil held the phone against his face and sighed.

“They found your father.”

After twenty five years of feeling nothing, this was certainly a lot. Roman tried to move but found he couldn’t. Why was his leg so warm. Was he moving. Well now there’s something on his face and...

“Roman? Roman, can you hear me? Your family is here to see you. Roman Sanders?”

“Uh, yes?” he asked.

“Roman, can you tell me what year it is?”

“I...” Roman started and then stopped.

“Roman? Can you hear me?”

“Yes, but who are you?”

He stopped remembering again.

They say that hearing is the last thing to go, and they are right. Whoever they are. Hearing yourself flat lining would be terrifying if you weren’t too dead to care.

“Dad?”

Roman felt his chest and stomach expanding with air. A small beeping noise came from somewhere on his right. He lazily opened his eyes and smiled at what he saw.

“You dyed your hair blue.” he noted.

“You haven’t changed.” Patton said, smiling.

“Well, that ends right now.” Roman mumbled. “Is Virgil here?”

“He’s asleep.” Patton said, gesturing to a chair in the corner.

And he was. Asleep in a chair with a tacky print by the hospital window.

“He got old.” Roman noted.

“You died.” Patton said.

“I heard.” Roman said.

“I’m just a little younger than you.” Patton said.

“Indeed.” Roman replied. “Look, I think for once in my life I am too tired to speak any more.”

“Can I talk to you about my new job?” Patton asked.

“Don’t you want to hear about the lightning storm that brought me back to you?” Roman replied.

“No, but I think Virgil will.” Patton said.

Roman looked again at the figure of his sleeping brother. The left sleeve of his hoodie was rolled up slightly and the tattoo of lightning was visible. Yes, Virgil would like this story. But until then...

“Okay, ramble on about your job.” Roman said.

Patton lit up. “Okay, so there was an opening for a professor of organic chemistry and 19th century philosophy at this university at the same time, right?”

[hoynovoy]

13 Things To Try If You're New To BDSM

So you think you’re turned on by BDSM and kink. You’ve thought a lot about it and maybe you’ve even done some of the things that the experts recommend you do before you get started with BDSM. You’re ready to start thinking about and planning your first “session” but… You’re not totally sure where to start. Perhaps your fantasies are more varsity level than JV and you want to start slow, or maybe you’re just at a loss for ideas because, well, you’re a newbie.

Before we even get into activities, though, I want to take a minute and reassure you a little bit. I know that BDSM and kink can get kind of a bad rap in the media, like it’s some kind of deviant activity that only messed up people are into. BDSM and kink are practiced by all kinds of people with all kinds of backgrounds — and they play a huge role in the fantasy lives for a large proportion of women.

In fact, the data underscores just how common BDSM is. One article in the Journal of Sexual Health and Medicine found that 46.8% of the population sample, which was based in Belgium, had performed a BDSM-related activity. Twenty-six percent of respondents said they were interested in BDSM, and another 7.6% identified as “BDSM practitioners.”

Let the numbers soothe you: there is nothing wrong with being into kinky sex play and it doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you. All it means, in the end, is that you’re into kinky sex play!

Good Vibrations staff sexologist and author of The Sex & Pleasure Book: Good Vibrations Guide to Great Sex for Everyone Carol Queen, PhD, tells Bustle that before you do any BDSM play, you have to have some explicit conversations. Starting with what you're interested in because the world of BDSM, Queen says, is vast. And, "if one person is thinking cushy, bondage gear, and dripping candle wax and a blindfold, and the other one is thinking whips and chains and painting, [you] may talk past each other," Queen says. She suggests having a conversation not when you're already getting to it, which can feel like a high-pressure situation, but before.

"It's maybe better to do it outside of that context, like, 'Hey, I was wanting to talk to you about something kind of frisky. Do you have some time to hang out with me and have this conversation with me at dinner? Or do you want to have a glass of wine?'” Queen says. "Not too much wine when you have these conversations, though, because you want to remember what your focus is."

Now that we have that out of the way, it’s time to get down to the nitty gritty. As a certified sex educator, I have a million kinky friends (well, maybe not a million, but quite a few) who are happy to share their expertise on great entry-level kink and BDSM activities for those of you who are 100% new to the game. I decided to focus specifically on suggestions made by Miette Rouge, 43, and Jenna, 26, both of whom are active members of their respective kink scenes.

1. Hair Pulling

You might have already started this BDSM 1.0 level play: Hair pulling. A lot of people reach for the hair automatically in the throes of the passion. The journal Sexualization, Media, & Society surveyed nearly 2,000 pornography users and found that 50% of them have engaged in some hair-pulling.

Miette suggests hair pulling as a good way to start getting into kinky play. It’s easy, doesn’t require any toys, and can be as gentle or as rough as you want it to be.

Of course this (like every other type of BDSM play) requires conversation before doing it. Don't just jump in and yank on someone's hair. Queen recommends using a "yes, no, maybe" list before doing anything to make sure you and your partner are on the same page.

2. Light Spanking

Spanking is definitely a common fantasy. A nationally representative U.S. survey titled, “The 2015 Sexual Exploration in America Study,” found that about 30% of respondents had engaged in spanking in their lifetime. So starting with light BDSM is a good idea — with the option of ramping it up as you go, of course. Start with hands and then incorporate toys as you and your partner(s) become more experienced.

“I found it really exciting as a beginner to be told I had to count the number of blows I was going to receive, because it was not only a pain thing, but a power thing,” Jenna tells Bustle.

And spanking doesn't have to just be on the butt. Queen points out that many people like to be spanked all around their genitals.

"Some people love really 'thuddy' spanks, whether it's from a hand or paddle," Queen says. "Because it starts to move around your muscle and fat layer so close to your genitals, it adds sexual excitement to the experience for people who may not have even been thinking about the front of themselves when their spanking started."

3. Pre-Negotiated Language

Miette suggests incorporating aggressive language into your play. Words like “slut,” “whore,” “jerk,” “wimp,” and “f*ck” are all good places to start. Name calling, however, should definitely be pre-negotiated, as one person's turn on may be another person's major turn off.

Queen has another note about language, but it's about how to slow play rather than speed it up: Safe words. A safe word is a word that wouldn't normally come up during sex play, but if someone utters it then it's a signal that it's time to either slow down or stop the scene.

"The safe word typically would be something like red, yellow, and green — like red light, green light, like traffic lights," Queen says. "Green" means keep going, "yellow" means slow down, and "red" means you need to stop everything altogether.

4. Tying Up With A Scarf

A lot of people fantasize about bondage, and scarves are a good place to start because they’re soft and it’s hard to do real damage with them — unlike, you know, rope and handcuffs. That same U.S. survey also found that about 20% of respondents report having been tied up before, so you’re in good company if this piques your interest. And even more people want to be doing it. One Canadian study found that 72% of male respondents and 59% of female respondents fantasized about getting tied up.

However, an inexperienced bondage fan can really mess someone up if they do rope bondage incorrectly, from cutting off circulation to not being able to untie them at all. So stick to scarves if you're just getting started.

Miette’s main tip is to make sure that two fingers can be slipped between the tie and the skin in order to avoid cutting off circulation, which definitely can do damage. Pick one that's strong enough to take a little pulling and have fun.

5. Under The Bed Restraints

Once you’re ready to move on from scarves, Jenna recommends trying out under the bed restraints or “just canvas strap restraints.” These types of restraints, which can be found in most sex shops, make it easier to tie someone down without having to stop and fumble around with knots. They're also quick-release, which means you don't have to worry about knots tightening to the point of being difficult to remove, which is a great plus for a beginner.

“Even if you don't do anything else besides fool around, if you've never done it before giving up control over your body is an exciting intro to BDSM for beginners,” Jenna says.

6. Incorporating “Sir” Or “Madam”

In addition to aggressive language, Miette advises that a “sir” or “madam” can do wonder to set the stage. It’s a simple way to establish roles in a dom/sub scene and keep you both involved in the fantasy.

It's also great because it doesn't cost anything and you don't have to add any gear. Using "sir" and "madam" language is a cheap, easy, and very low-impact way to see if that particular kind of BDSM play works for you and your partner.

7. Biting

Biting is a great entry-level way to play because you can test different levels of pain. It's also, similar to using certain language, something you can do without any gear or any cost to you and your partner.

However, Miette warns that talking about biting beforehand is essential — and part of that talk should be about marks. Some people are into them and some people really aren’t, so make sure you know where your partner stands before you start chomping down.

You should also be clear about how hard you want to be bitten, before the biting starts. You could even make it a fun, kind of silly game with your partner biting you at different intensity levels so that they know what's going to work — and what isn't.

8. Subbing/Topping Role Playing

In BDSM-speak, "subbing" is performing the role of the submissive sex partner, while "topping" is playing the role of the dominant one. (And just in case you were curious, about 22% of the general population has tried role-playing before). But you don't have to jump right to full-on costumes and whips. You can ease your way into sub/top role play with a couple of additions to sex acts you're probably already doing.

Jenna suggests that “something as simple as having your arms tied behind your back while performing oral sex” can be a really hot entry level activity for people who are just getting started. Other suggestions might include begging (for sex or punishment) as well as being put in or putting someone in a submissive physical position.

9. Play With “Pervertables”

Miette is really into what she calls “pervertables,” which are every day objects that can be transformed into toys. She recommends things like wooden spoons, brushes, spatulas and narrow things like canes, thin belts, and rulers with the metal guide on them if you want to make a mark. The best thing about these toys, according to Miette, is that no one but other kinksters will recognize them for what they are. They’re like a kinky secret signal.

Queen cautions, however, that different materials create different sensations. And while some might be really pleasurable for people, others won't be.

"When you're choosing your implements for impact play that some things are going to be thinner or a harder edged material — like say latex would be stingier feeling to the body — and things that are softer material — suede and things like that — or wider wind up feeling 'thuddier.' And some people have a preference one or another."

10. Sensation Play With A Blindfold

Both Miette and Jenna recommend blindfolded sensation play. What does that mean, you ask? Basically, you lightly restrain someone (or are restrained yourself, depending on your preference), blindfold them, and then introduce various sensations with various objects. So maybe you run a feather over them or you pinch them or you give them a spank or tease them to edge of orgasm.

The idea of this kind of play is to allow the non-blindfolded person to have control of everything that’s happening and for the blindfolded person to surrender control to them. And for the blindfolded person, not being able to see what's going on can make each physical feeling even more intense.

11. Floggers

A flogger is a kind of whip, specifically one with a woven leather handle and lots of woven tails. They're used for impact play, which means hitting of some kind. Some people like to use both ends of the flogger for a variety of sensations.

A flogger is more like a BDSM 1.1 step rather than a BDSM 1.0 step, according to Jenna. She recommends to newbies, though, because the pain it provides isn’t very intense but it looks scary, which can heighten your enjoyment of it.

Her second tip when it comes to this kind of pain play? “Leave the cane for once you've experienced a little more, because that sh*t hurts.”

12. Clothespins

Jenna thinks that clothespins — which can be adjusted and removed quickly, if need be — are a good way to start exploring pain thresholds. She recommends trying them out on nipples, stomach, and inner thigh at first as you start to understand your or your partner’s limits.

Queen says that while you'd think the painful part of clothes pin play would be when you put them on, it's actually the removal that creates the most sensation.

"When the blood flows in the nerves are like, 'Wait, what?' and it can be quite painful for people who don’t enjoy intense sensation," Queen says. "Do something distracting at that time when the clip is coming off — like if it comes off a nipple, add sucking or licking to the nipple right away or do something else on another part of the body that can distract them, clitoral touch or some spanking if they like it. That kind of thing. Distracting [away from] that sensation can be a useful technique."

13. Candle wax

Candle wax is another way to play that Jenna says, “seems scary but isn't, isn't that painful, and is an exciting way to intro/explore pain.” Her only warning is that you do some research beforehand about different types of candles, as certain kinds burn hotter than others and those are the ones you don’t want.

If you try out a couple of these entry-level BDSM activities and find that you like it, you'll be well on your way to further exploring kink with your partner. Have fun, be safe, and feep communicating.

Experts:

Good Vibrations staff sexologist and author of The Sex & Pleasure Book: Good Vibrations Guide to Great Sex for Everyone Carol Queen, PhD

Studies:

Holvoet L, Huys W, Coppens V, Seeuws J, Goethals K, Morrens M. Fifty Shades of Belgian Gray: The Prevalence of BDSM-Related Fantasies and Activities in the General Population. J Sex Med. 2017 Sep;14(9):1152-1159. doi: 10.1016/j.jsxm.2017.07.003. Epub 2017 Aug 7. PMID: 28781214.

Herbenick D, Bowling J, Fu TJ, Dodge B, Guerra-Reyes L, Sanders S. Sexual diversity in the United States: Results from a nationally representative probability sample of adult women and men. PLoS One. 2017 Jul 20;12(7):e0181198. doi: 10.1371/journal.pone.0181198. PMID: 28727762; PMCID: PMC5519052.

Renaud, C.A. & Byers, E.. (1999). Exploring the frequency, diversity, and content of university students' positive and negative sexual cognitions. Canadian Journal of Human Sexuality. 8. 17-30.

Style Select styleAMAAPAChicagoMLAHarvard1.Bridges AJ, Sun CF, Ezzell MB, Johnson J. Sexual Scripts and the Sexual Behavior of Men and Women Who Use Pornography. Sexualization, Media, & Society. December 2016. doi:10.1177/2374623816668275

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[joel-furniss-blog]

Frugality and Arte Povera

Painting has always presented a problem to me. Use of paint

Don’t get me wrong, I love painting and the relationship between the an acrylic brushstroke and its respective canvas can spawn a subtle beauty of form, texture and colour, I find the actual removal of paints from their nice metal tubes to be all too distressing. I hate the idea of having one crumpled tube of white or black amongst a collection of other barely used paints. Not because I am a clean freak (take a look at my desk if you think that) but because I am all too painfully aware of how expensive paints are now. I’ve been lucky in that I have gotten most of my paints for free, but I know eventually those paints will run out and I’ll have to buy more, and then those paints will run out and I’ll have to but more, and then those paints will run out and I’ll have to but more, etc.

On top of this I’ve recently been told as part of a paint workshop that I will have to access the next grade of paint quality, an exciting upgrade for some but to me it seems more of a burden than anything. Because once again, I am faced with the eternal problem of things costing money. It’s a problem that as a student I am more than aware than ever. I have to plan strategically if I want to buy paints: What colours are essential? What quality grade is necessary? How much should I actually purchase? I feel that in the future it will become a much larger problem than I hope it should be. The only way I can realistically combat is to not splurge on student or artist level acrylics, and stick to my low tier paints. But then of course I will miss on the subtle mixes of colour and smoothness of the higher grades. But maybe there’s a way around that.

I’m always interested in experimentation, especially with paint, mainly in the different ways I can make it smoothly or ruggedly move across the paper, but there’s clearly something I’m missing. Instead of simply using the paint alone I need to really push the physicality of the paint to its limits. I’ve had an idea for a while of mixing multiple different fluids into acrylics and recording their effects, to see if any of them have interesting visuals to them, and now seems to be the best time to look into the idea.

According to the Oxford Dictionary frugality is “The quality of being economical with money or food; thriftiness.” a sought after and somewhat necessary trait for some, but the definition itself isn’t as beefy as I wish it were, I need to know why it is a favourable. Behavioural science suggest frugality is the tendency to acquire goods and services in a restrained manner, and resourceful use of already owned goods and services to achieve a long-term goal. In simple terms, one must buy in small and measured amounts at the longest possible intervals in order to save money. Sounds simply but in experience can take quite a lot of planning and subsequent willpower. Common strategies of the frugal lifestyle include the reduction of waste, eliminating common costly habits, efficiency, avoiding economic traps, defying expensive social norms, avoiding advertising, embracing low-cost options, using barter when possible, staying informed about local markets, and stopping instant gratification by self-restraint.

The original concept of frugality as a subject was to be distrustful of ‘expert’ knowledge from commercial markets and corporate culture to instead focus on the preferred economic, material, and spiritual ideals of a small community or the individual. Many communities see frugality as an aspect of spirituality, helping a person become enlightened to the true measures of life as well as eliminating the aspects of a destructive lifestyle based on hedonism. Quakers and Puritans have adopted this lifestyle for such reasons, so they can save money and allocate it for more charitable efforts.

Frugality can not only help save money for the future but also assist a positive health by eliminating destructive and cost-heavy habits such as smoking, drinking, and drug use. Paired with ultimate goal of saving as such money as possible and the lifestyle being seen as a separated ideal from the conventional materialism of many people’s lives, it has been seen as either being an extremely beneficial method of cost-cutting in its simplest examples, and a more disdained practice in its more extreme lengths. People see planning economically and using coupons as clever, others see it as cheap, most see skip diving to be too far. But personally I’m all for any example of it. Mainly the more spontaneous aspects of it, rather than the fully planned spreadsheets of the cost:volume ratios, monthly charters and coupon-cutting. And Lord knows I’m not above picking things of the street, just look back at my sculpture project for evidence of that. But maybe it is time to change, think more on the numbers side of things.

I purchased some paints from my local Wilko, twelve 200ml tubes of acrylic in the colours Viridian, White, Rose, Black, Cerulean Blue, Cadmium Red, Ultramarine Blue, Crimson Red, Burnt Sienna, Burnt Umber, Lemon Yellow, and Sap Green at a cost of £24 total. Pretty expensive all things considered, especially for such low quality acrylics, but that low quality, especially the slickness of the surface and unsubtle block colours have a certain necessity to them. The cheapness of the quality relates back into why I brought them, because I’m cheap. The second part of the painting process, the supports, were easily acquired, I simply picked up a collection of MDF offcuts from the workshop downstairs. Normally I would have used paper but I didn’t want to get those ugly dented effects or go through the process of stretching onto a board, as that would have costed more money and taken time until I could actually paint. I did a few small tests at the beginning of the painting into different painting techniques, as it has been a while since I’ve painted for prolonged periods, I tested with impressionist and reductive methods but I settled on using small tabs of cardboard to layer and blend blocks of pure colour atop one another, finding the way the colours relate and the built texture to be quite nice.

During a group tutorial it was suggested instead of using free MDF from the workshop I instead return to the found object motif of my previous sculpture project as well as research some artists who use found objects in their work. I took to this idea and collected some pieces of disused wood from my surrounding area, many of which were dampened and rotting, making them quite delicate, a feature I didn’t find out until I started painting, which was quite annoying. Some of the wood scraps have been pre-painted and varnished, making them smooth to the touch much like the MDF I previously used while others were raw and rough, making for an interesting textural relationship between the support and the paint. Unlike the MDF, these wooden supports aren’t thin enough to fit into my sketchbook, meaning I’ll have to scan them into my sketchbook, eliminating the texture, which is unfortunate.

My tutor gave me a list of interesting artists to look at and study for the found object motif I’ve been running with, but I felt like a link between most of them was too much of a stretch. I did however particularly enjoy the work of the Arte Povera (which literally translates to ‘Poor Art’) movement which was suggested to me. A late 60’s-early 70’s Italian art movement and originally a response to the established government, industries and culture of Italy, mainly with a focus on simplicity, much like the Minimalist Art movement before it, except on a grander scale, with a three dimensional focus, emphasis on more fluid forms, and a utilization of found or recycled objects including soil, rags and twigs in an effort to disrupt the commercial aspects of modern Italian art. The movement was paired with a series of supposed concepts and trends such as:

A return to simple objects and messages

The body and behaviour are art

The everyday becomes meaningful

Traces of nature and industry appear

Dynamism and energy are embodied in the work

Nature can be documented in its physical and chemical transformation

Explore the notion of space and language

Complex and symbolic signs lose meaning

Ground Zero, no culture, no art system, Art = Life

The focus on the found is mainly why I focused on the movement, but I’ve also come to enjoy the fluid forms of many of the sculptures, specifically the use of Anti-Form, a style of sculpture born in the United States which embraced organic processes and a level of chance, in a sense treating the object in a certain way and then leaving it to possess its own inherent qualities rather than the artist imposing restrictions on it. An example I found of this is Lynda Beglis’ Quartered Meteor, a sculpture in which layers of lead and steel are melted on top of each other, forming an appearance of cooled lava. I find the fluidity and methodology of the sculpture to be quite fascinating and relatable to my project, as with the paints and fluids I am mixing, the results are mostly unknown and produce often unperticable effects inherent to the materials I use, much like the ideas of Anti-Form but on a textural basis instead.

Sources used:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frugality

http://www.the-frugality.com/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arte_Povera

http://www.tate.org.uk/art/art-terms/a/arte-povera

http://www.tate.org.uk/art/art-terms/a/anti-form

http://www.tate.org.uk/art/artworks/benglis-quartered-meteor-t13353

[wheaterz]

Testing Maintenance: Chapter 20

It was nice to be able to walk among the facility without a large sense of urgency, especially the upper levels of the Enrichment Center where the medical bay had been. Mel recalled the overgrown chambers of plants and actual sunlight pouring in from high above. Birds could be heard singing and nesting above her head and it was naturally warm compared to the rest of the cool, draftiness of the underground laboratories. She'd admired it before, but the last time she'd seen it they were escaping AEGIS' radar. Virgil mentioned that since they were so close to the surface they may have found a way out, and even could have used the one they'd found near the security chamber, but they still had to go to Old Aperture for their vehicle. It was the difference between leaving Mel to wander aimlessly and the possibility of true survival. So they would have to start their hike to head all the way back down, which would take hours. Possibly even a full day, depending on what mishaps may happen along the way.

“Urgh...” Virgil had been ahead of Mel, leading the human around the Enrichment Center since he was the one with a map in his head, but he was disgruntled by the amount of disrepair this part of Aperture had remained. GLaDOS hadn't even bothered with the upper layers due to rot from the chambers being weathered and there was really nothing she could do about repairs if her connection was cut from it all. Hardly anything worked and he was having trouble finding a lift.

“The nearest working line of elevators is over by the Relaxation Center. With how long it will take us to walk that way we would be half way down by that point. Is nothing up here working? You know what, seeing this place now, I'm shocked we were able to get the Medical Bay turned back on. Shocked. What? Is this door not going to open either? Well, that's just great. Yet another stubborn door who's only purpose in life is to make mine miserable. You know what? Let me see if I can...”

Mel had hung back and let Virgil rant to himself as she looked around at the surrounding flora. She was shaken from her sightseeing and jumped at a loud bang from Virgil's direction, spinning around with her portal device raised in case of an attack. Virgil had his back to her and was gripping a now very bent piece of the wall from beside the round, sliding door. With a boot to the wall he managed to pry the whole plate of metal away and it dropped to the ground with a ringing clatter. In the wall was a black circuit board and a tangled web of cords in different colors. Virgil had already tried hacking the door, but when it didn't so much as give him a response the only other option he saw was to override it manually. Mel leaned over to see past his shoulder at what the core was doing, which was currently pinching a white cord and unplugging it from its port. The moment the cord was free the door beside them started rapidly opening and closing, sparks flying from the friction it was causing.

“Okay, remember that weighted storage cube we passed a few minutes ago? Can you go get that?”

Mel nodded and did what he asked, turning to head into the room on the other end of a flooded walkway from them. The water sloshed around up to Mel's ankles, the room not nearly as water-logged as other places in this part of the facility had been and was non-corrosive. It was always a plus to not have your feet melted away by toxic waste. Mel found the sad little cube sitting alone, decorated with pink pin stripes and a heart rather than the default blue circle. The woman had taken special notice of it earlier, for it was musical in nature and had been singing a little melody in their passing, however faint it was. Mel moved to pick it up when she realized something she had missed earlier on the wall just above the cube. There was a splash of color behind the heavily grown vines and Mel moved the plants aside to see another one of the paintings that had dotted Aperture in nooks and crannies that were the hardest to get to, and impossible to see if you weren't directly looking for them.

It was typical when she remembered the others she'd seen. They were normally made in very energized, erratic brush strokes with white, blue, orange, and black paint with intense imagery and cryptic messages. While she'd wondered who would have been here to make murals, such as these, she'd never taken the writing on them to a lot of thought. They just seemed like the crazy ideas of some poor soul that had been trapped there for too long. For whatever reason, this one had struck her enough to leave her hanging on its strokes a little longer than the others. It was a painting of the moon, a gold tint in color on a night sky backdrop with no stars, but little pink hearts. Crude, black words arched beneath it and looked to have been obviously painted with someone's hands rather than using a brush. The words contradicted each other and she didn't necessarily understand whatever this person was trying to say, but such is the mind of someone who'd been down here for too long.

AUTOPHOBIA IS LOVE AS A CONSTRUCT

Mel studied the painting with a trance over her eyes at the full, gold moon and how it reflected the last time she had seen it in the sky. She wouldn't have been able to stay for long, Virgil's voice bouncing off the walls from the room she'd traveled from.

“Hey, Mel? You okay back there?”

She had no way of shouting back a response to him to let her friend know that she hadn't fallen silently into a chasm, so she levitated the pink cube with her Portal device and headed back, the vines over the painting falling back where they'd been and hiding it again for another long, undisturbed rest.

Virgil clasped his hands together with a single clap when he saw Mel return, and grinned at her. “Great! You got it! Okay, now just stick it into the door so that we can jam it open!”

Mel hesitated. She looked down at the singing cube and pulled her lower lip out at Virgil sadly.

“What's wrong, now?”

Mel would not have been able to draw out one of her sticky note pads with how she'd been holding the gun up, so instead she nodded her head down at the cube.

For the synthetic life of him, Virgil couldn't place why she'd gotten attached to a cube so quickly. She'd seen hundreds of them. Humans were so strange with their possession over inanimate objects.“Yeeesss??? Its a cube. We're going to stick it into the door so we can continued looking for a lift downstairs. Unless you want to walk all the way down there after you just had a bullet surgically removed from your abdomen.” He took a moment to figure her out. What about this woman, in the time he knew her, would advocate the need to hang onto a storage cube? It was pink for one thing, but there had to be more to it than just that. “Is it because its singing?”

She nodded.

“Its not sentient, Mel. They don't have feelings like the turrets do. I don't know what the music's function is, but its not going to mind getting stuck in the door. Trust me on this.”

The woman still hesitated, but she wasn't going to stop listening to Virgil over a testing cube. Mel timed herself at the malfunctioning door and when she'd found the right moment she thrust the heart cube into the center, the sliders crashing against it and stuck. The force hadn't been enough to crush the cube, but apparently had knocked something loose inside it that stopped it from making music anymore. Virgil was first to go through, climbing over the cube and stepping off onto the other side of an out-of-order testing chamber that was not meant for a duel portal gun, but one of the single-shooters. Mel followed his lead once again.

They had hardly walked out of the room, after Mel had performed yet another easy cheat in a chamber she was more than qualified for, when Virgil suddenly stopped and put an arm up to force Mel into doing the same. The space before them was a long, narrow hallway with a grated catwalk running over a pool of dirtied, brown water and vertical to it on the ceiling was a management rail that bent to the right at the end of the passage and disappeared into another hallway. From beyond this turn there was some pleasant humming drifting between the walls, and not missing a beat, Virgil knelt down and picked up a chunk of debris from the floor.

Nigel was the core to appear from around the turn at the other end of the hall, and when he saw the two he lifted his bottom eyelid into the core equivalent of a grin.

“Ah! The human and Maintenance Core! Just the two I was looking fo—Aaagh! Hey!” He hollered in surprise at the ceiling fragment that was suddenly hurtled at him, but he'd just managed to avoid it by zipping to the left where he'd came. Nigel's optic shrunk initially from fear, but now he was very clearly offended. “What was that for?! You trying to knock my eye out?”

“Working on it!” Virgil called back to him while he searched for another chunk of Aperture to toss. He'd found one that he felt he could get a good distance on, but after raising his hand to toss it Mel reached out with her free arm to grab his. Virgil had all but let go of his hand to toss the debris when Mel caught his arm and he looked back at her from over his raised shoulder. He saw the woman shake her head at him. “What?! First the companion cube and now this guy? You do recognize that he's the same core that tricked us and sent us up to GLaDOS, right? I realize it might be harder for you to tell, but...”

Mel shoved her gun at Virgil for him to hold and the android nearly dropped it in his surprise. The human took a note and pen from her pocket and wrote down her thoughts.

He helped me while you were shut down.

“Nigel helped you?” Virgil pointed at the orange core down the walkway from them, raising a perplexed brow at his friend. “This guy did?”

“I guy did, yes.” Now that Virgil had been leashed and muzzled, Nigel felt a bit more comfortable drawing in and closing the gap between them. “And I've come back to finish the job! The Boss Lady is getting a little agitated by you two just wandering around up here aimlessly, so She's given me instructions to let you use my funnels to get going-going-gone. I think that's awfully generous of Her, don't you think?”

“Does She, now? How stupid does She think we—nevermind. I already know the answer to that.” Virgil put his hands together, drawing patience from the idea that he could not pull them apart to grab a hold of Nigel to chuck him into the water under the walkway. He paused, drawing together his thoughts until he'd found something more civil to say. “Thank you. We are good. We will not be taking your airways. I trust we may be incinerated. Good day.”

“Okay, look. You can check it out for yourself. You've got that handy Wifi in this gizmo, right Maintenance? Come over here a second.” Nigel turned on his rail and started to slide away back where he'd came. Mel shrugged at her friend and was the first to go after him. They needed to go down this route anyway. Virgil dragged behind cautiously, ready to grab Mel if the he saw even a fraction of a flat surface move for whatever horror that could be hiding out of sight from them. Nigel lead them straight to the opening of a glass pipe like he'd offered them before, but the entrance was built into the floor instead of the ceiling.

Nigel stopped beside it and nodded at Virgil. “Go ahead. Trace it. See where it goes.”

Virgil huffed, but he did as he was asked. His eyes stared ahead and went blank while his vision retreated to a map of the airways. Mel found that when he did this she was not nearly as disturbed by it as she'd been before and was relieved for finally becoming accustomed to it. It was his thinking cap, and for sure he was doing wonders with it. Virgil traced the tunnel they had been brought to all the way down to an an office in the junkyards where he'd been trapped. In fact, it had been an extension of the same building. It must have only just been brought back into order, which meant it had only recently been tampered with by Nigel or Her. Virgil snapped out of it and crossed his arms up at Nigel. “Well...it takes us as far as the junkyards. Old Aperture is just a small walk away, so you're not lying.”

“See?”

“But She could just as easily re-route it once we're in there.”

“Yeah, but you can do the same can't you?” Nigel asked. “That's one of the pesky things you do these days, right? You re-route the chutes?”

“Pesky?” Virgil was about to get into it with the other core for disrespecting the system he'd set up for the incinerator when Mel tapped him on the shoulder to pull him back down again. They had other things they could be doing with their time other than arguing with Nigel. It worked, Virgil still only a few jabs away from sticking Nigel into the funnel, instead, as a guinea pig. The question now was whether they should risk it or not. It certainly would save them a lot of time, and for Mel, precious energy.

“What do you think, Mel?” If she had anything else aside from her physical prowess, she had good intuition and judgment and was borderline fearless from his perspective. If she wanted to take the risk he'd jump in with her. Mel tapped her boot against the tunnel and then nodded at him. Virgil uncrossed his arms with a huff and frowned up at Nigel. “Fine. Thanks for the tube, I guess.”

“Don't mention it!” Nigel was optimistic in his reply and could have been conceived as being genuine, had they not already known him better by now.

Mel waited by for Virgil. Virgil waited by for Mel. When he realized she'd been staring at him, as if waiting for something, he got worried. Had she changed her mind? “What's up? I don't speak eyeball.”

She frowned.

“...I mean, I was an eyeball but um...okay, right. Sorry. What do you want, though?”

Mel pulled her mouth taught and tilted her head at the pipe.

“Oh, you want me to go first? AH! Yeah! Sorry! That's right! We do want me to go first!” He'd only just remembered that he'd almost crushed her by flying out the last time and stepped over to the tunnel. “Alright, then. No other way around this, huh?” He'd been hesitating still, the assist droid leaning far over the side and feeling air pulling his hair and jacket towards the mouth of the pipe.

Mel watched him bend over  and positioned herself behind the unknowing android, her tongue sticking out the corner of her mouth and lifting a boot up to his robot behind for a little nudge. Virgil yelped and fell in, getting sucked down into the vacuum and Mel quickly jumping in after him so there wouldn't be too much of a distance between them. When the screaming from Virgil had stopped and he was able to turn around at her he did not look amused. He had to shout over the rushing wind to air to speak to her. “Still super classy. You are going to stop kicking me through holes, Mel.”

She planned on it at some point.

The airway went downwards, for the most part, and though they were passing everything the facility had to offer up that would have kept them from getting down to Old Aperture in a timely manner, the trip was still a long one. Mel had a mind to keep checking on her pockets to make sure her notes were not falling out, and thankfully they hadn't. Virgil, on the other hand, had not been very chatty for the ride. This had mad the trip even less tolerable, but it was for a good reason. He'd been keeping an eye on any abnormalities that would have strayed them from their intended route, and if that happened he'd need to quickly do something about it. The android was surprised to find that towards their twenty minutes of being pushed through a pipe that they were nearly to the junkyards without so much as a blip from an outside influence.

Just as expected, Virgil was tossed out of the pipes and Mel just behind him. She'd landed on her friend, and as uncomfortable as that had been, considering how dense his body was, it was not nearly as terrible as the alternative would have been. Once they had collected themselves and got their barrings it was time to start their hike down once more through the darkness of the Aperture junkyards. Virgil was ready to make it a mission in life to end his habit of falling down here, whether it was voluntary or not. The bottom line was that it needed to just stop happening.

------

Virgil and Mel stood side by side staring at the faded yellow, AMC Gremlin that was more rust than vehicle. It was untouched after they had locked it back behind the vaulted tunnel door right before escaping the goo that GLaDOS had sent into Old Aperture to chase them upwards. The place was damp, but drained, and equipment was somehow still functioning even after a second flood. If anything else, Aperture tech was phenomenally durable in a pinch. It had taken the two only a couple more hours of walking to make it back down to this part of the facility from the junkyards, both still wary over how quickly GLaDOS was to start urging Mel away, but She'd been more than patient considering Her track record. Virgil and Mel were being careful not to trip-wire her wrath when they were so close to their goal.

But there were other elements that were just as terrifying as She was.

“If you're on your way to the relaxation vaults, don't mind the turrets! They will not fire at you! We have checked them for the ninth time this week for live rounds and they only had bullets for the first two. They're harmless! To you. We're sorry to say we're down a secretary.”

“GAH!” Virgil stumbled back in fright, Mel just as worked up as he had been but did not have the voice to express it verbally. She raised her gun on reflex, guarding the android behind her and Virgil nearly pulling her down when he'd grabbed for her arm. The two were tense and both searching for the source of Cave Johnson's voice, Virgil eventually putting his hands to his eyes and leaning against Mel with a broken up, relieved laugh. “We...ehehehe. W-we tripped one of the prerecorded messages. Its got a motion sensor. Oooooooooh boy. Hoo! Just look at us. We're idiots. Eheheh...eheh...”

Mel had thoroughly relaxed, her heart pounding and she rolled her head to her shoulder as her panic quickly settled. She nodded in agreement, feeling ridiculous for acting up. She leaned on him just as he had been doing and started to laugh as well.

“Okay...okay...” Virgil straightened himself out and fixed his jacket. The android slipped the goggles out of his messy hair and down over his eyes. “I'm going to finish fixing the car. You start loading her up. See if you can find more gas, too. This dinky gallon's not going to do us much good.”

Mel saluted with two fingers to her forehead and placed her portal gun down on a bench so she'd have both hands for gathering up supplies. There was already the food and water Virgil had found from earlier and Mel started to carry armfuls of it into the back of the car. However, she did not take it all. She felt that even if there was the slightest chance some poor soul found themselves down here after waking up from sleeping their whole generation through, then they would need something to eat. She believed that even though she had not seen another living human in the time she'd been here, the place was insane enough and large enough to have them hiding just about anywhere.

It was another couple of hours before Virgil was done with the car, having checked every inch of it for what repairs it needed and replaced the tires. When he thought that he had reached his limitations with what he could do, the core crawled out from under the wheels with a smudge of oil on his cheek and his hair fussed up wilder than it usually was. He'd hardly noticed Mel coming by with the cans of food and loading them into the back of the car behind the passenger seat, and especially didn't notice when she'd placed a large, red plastic 2-gallon canister of fuel over by the smaller one Virgil had found earlier. Mel had been satisfied enough with her find that she had pulled one of the comfortable chairs from the lobby out of the building where she could keep an eye on Virgil and was currently sitting cross-legged in it while munching on a second can of pumpkin pie filling.

“I think that's about as good as I can get it... Woah!” The assist droid blinked at the 2-gallon can of gas and looked up to see Mel lounging in a chair a few yards away from him. “Good job! I thought for sure I'd cleaned that place out. Okay, so, we have about three gallons now so that has to beeee... if everything goes well, the best case scenario is that we could possibly get ninety miles out of that. Possibly. Again, we could just end up breaking down five minutes after we start driving.”

Mel stopped eating, studying Virgil as she thought about the choice of words he had been using. She put her can down and started writing again, Virgil approaching her while he used his black jacket sleeve to rub the oil off of his cheek. He took the sticky note from her, smudging the paper with some of the oil that had gotten on his hands as well.

Are you coming with me?

“I said I'd at least go with you until we find you someplace livable. I plan to stick with it. Uh, however, I am assuming that you drive, right? I honestly should have asked that earlier, because this whole thing would have been pointless otherwise.” 

Way to put the cart before the horse.

Mel gave it some thought, though, and Virgil was concerned for her slow answer. Technically, no, she'd never learned how to drive. She took the bus most places in her adult life. However...

I can drive a tractor.

“I mean, um...I guess it's the same concept, right? Should be fine. Anyway, in case of an emergency, I am going to find a driving tutorial and see if I can't learn something. Uh, pardon me for a few minutes. This may take a little bit.”

Virgil found himself a comfortable sitting position against the side of the chair Mel had brought out of the lobby and seemed to nod off, if one could sleep with their eyes open. Again, Mel was growing more and more used to it, but while he was out, she finished off the rest of her pumpkin pie filling. When she didn't have anything else to do the human turned in her chair towards the side Virgil was sitting against and started messing with his hair. She gently pulled at and moved the spiked tufts around, noting how it certainly did feel fake, but was soft all the same. It just didn't have the same consistency human hair did. Next order of business was to slide the goggles off of his eyes and to put them on herself. The world around her was now tinted yellow and she was getting a kick out of it.

Virgil stirred and turned around with his elbow over the arm of the chair. “Perfect! I think I got the files I need... Having fun, are we?”

Mel pushed the goggles off of her eyes, past her bangs, and nodded.

“Well, they look good on you at least.” Virgil used the arm of the chair as leverage to help him off of the floor and he wiped the seat of his pants off of the dirt and dust that collected on the ground from the surrounding salt mines. He held a hand out for Mel to take, offering to help her up. “Ready to get going?”

The woman smiled, allowing him to pull her from the armchair as she nodded and handed him a note she'd written prior to him waking up.

You were right. These are comfortable.

“It’s what I'd been told, at least. They look comfortable. Now! It’s time to test this baby out!” The Maintenance Core swept his arm around and pointed to the vehicle, animating his movements expressively like Mel had just won a brand new car rather than finding an old rust bucket. “Because we obviously couldn't find the keys I'm going to see what I can do to get it turned on. Why don't you go ahead and fill the tank up.”

While Mel emptied the contents of the red canisters into the gas tank, Virgil was only just barely able to force the driver's seat door open, the rust in the hinges creating a shrieking noise that made them both cringe. Virgil got in under the the dash and and proceeded to hotwire the vehicle. “C'mon... C'mon... Aha!”

With a 'foom' of smoke billowing out of the exhaust pipes in the back, the engine was revved into gear. It sputtered a few times before correcting itself and returning to the hum of a machine that still relied on fossil fuels instead of electricity and solar power like the rest of Aperture. Virgil knelt out the door and pulled a frown at how ugly it sounded and how much smog it produced. “This thing is literally an antique. I know it must look futuristic to you, Mel, but trust me when I say that we couldn't have found an older car that's still capable of running. Wow. Don't let that discourage you from driving it, though. It should be fine.”

Mel switched out with him, slipping into the driver’s seat and Virgil closing the door on her before going around to get himself situated. There was an argument on whether they should bother with seat belts, Virgil insisting that they should take every precaution, and eventually won. Only to find that the seat belts had been chewed away by rats. So there would be none of those. Getting the car backed out of its spot to face the tunnel was the hardest part, and they both were at a loss to find where the headlights needed to be turned on. Once Virgil had found the lights and Mel got the cart straightened out, she lightly hit the gas and slowly ushered them away from the cave and up through the spiraling tunnel.

“We haven't broken down or crashed, so that's great! We're off to a good start.” Virgil encouraged, though he looked about as scared as he did the first time they'd used the air tunnels. The android had his back pressed tightly against his seat and was gripping onto the door handle hard enough that it threatened to crack. Mel agreed that they were getting along pretty smoothly, though, and was confident enough to pick up the speed. Virgil tried to distract himself from the fear of this metal death trap either crashing or exploding, so he reached for the radio and tried to see if they picked up anything.

Nothing. Just the crackle of static and white noise.

“I-I'll leave this on just in case we get an outside signal.” He mumbled. His eyes and the optic on his chest were the only things on the inside of the car that was glowing, but everything had gone pitch black and he couldn't see Mel's face too well. He couldn't see if she was just as nervous as he was or if she was excited to be moving. The answer would have been both, and Mel leaned forward to grip the wheel so she could press the fluttering in her stomach further back. The tunnel was obviously taking them upwards in a wide carved spiral, but the darkness continued into nothing for the longest time. The two of them sat there silently after Virgil had nothing else to say, deciding it was best to let Mel concentrate. The tension and suspense built up the further up they drove and the low static frequency of the radio cut in and out.

And then Mel started to slow down again.

Ahead of them were two red lights that were obviously on a wall blocking the tunnel. Mel almost came to a stop, her gut dropping at the possibility of being trapped in there after all, but once their headlights caught the obstacle she realized that the red lights were on another vaulted door. The red turned green when they drew closer and the two halves slid away from each other and into the walls. A golden, fire tinted flash of sunlight pooled into the tunnel, both Mel and Virgil squinting against it. Mel had no choice but to hang onto the wheel, especially since she was temporarily blinded, but Virgil held a hand over his brow to block it out and instructed her to keep driving forward.

There was a steep rise in the road, but once they were over it the car evened out onto flat land. Mel slowed the car to a stop, putting the breaks on so that they could briefly get out and have a look around. They'd driven from the tunnel into a parking lot with a couple of abandoned cars sitting alone that were from the 1990's era, but only Virgil would have had this information. There was a chain-link fence that surrounded the parking structure with a tollbooth at the opening gate and a small, white building that had been the security's office and break room with the company logo faded on the side. Other than that small scrap of Aperture, there was nothing else. For miles past the gate the black, asphalt road stretched as far as the eye could see and on either side were fields of wild, yellowed wheat. The sun was setting in the east to their right side, and the sky was in gradients of orange and pink with purple clouds chasing the wind across the sky.

This time there actually was wind, and it was the first thing Virgil had searched for. Just in case they were being duped again. When he'd cleared that up, everything hit him. This was out. This was well, and truly, out. Just from standing there, in that one spot, he could look up at the sky and see nothing above him but what he could only describe as infinity. Past the sky was space, and past space was nothing. There wasn't a ceiling. If he looked forward that went on too. There were no walls. “Mel?”

The human was giddy to be outside and was all smiles. She beamed over at Virgil from from where he stood on the other side of the engine hood from her and waited for him to continue. The android, she could see, was dumbstruck and his mouth gaping open like a fish out of water as he looked up at the sky.

“Aperture is, um... its tiny, isn't it?”

She nodded. You could get lost in how massive the structure was, and compared to other man made buildings it was, indeed, massive. From that perspective, Aperture was in no means small. It took the knowledge and experience of being anywhere else in the world to know that it would never be the largest thing in existence. Not even close.

“This is...” Virgil gripped at his head, turning in circles to look around. “This is big. This is really, really big, Mel. I mean, I was wondering how you were not able to find anything while you were gone, but my scanners are just dead. There's literally nothing out here.”

She scribbled on one of her notes and pasted it to the window for him to grab when he was done being awestruck.

We did it, though!

“You know what?” Virgil slammed his hands down on the engine hood when he was done reading the note, her grinning face infectious and he was catching onto it. “We did! This is it! Mel, you are out of here!” He thrust his arm out over the hood, offering out his hand and Mel grasped onto it in celebration of their victory. Everything had been built up to this moment and it had paid off. They were in wide, open spaces with fresh air and not a machine in sight aside from the few dead cars that littered the parking lot. No killer robots, repulsion gel, toxic goo, searing lasers, or bottomless chasms to fall into. Just a large patch of a cloudy sky and vegetation.

“Back in the car, Olympian!” Virgil patted the hood and thrust himself enthusiastically back into his seat. “Like Nigel said, we are going-going-gone! Just gone! You can't even see us anymore, we are so gone. We are goner than gone! This is us, right now, leaving, we two, and being more gone than a robot getting sucked into space through a portal on the moon. That is how gone we are going to be!”

That happened, right?

“Yeah, that actually happened.”

The gate would have had a peg stopping them from leaving the parking lot with their vehicle, but it looked like it had broken off ages ago. There was nothing keeping Mel from hitting the gas again and leaving the last piece of Aperture behind them in the dust that collected on the abandoned road. It was riddled with potholes and weeds grew out of the numerous cracks in the asphalt, but it was better than having nothing to drive on at all. A vehicle this small would not have made it far going directly through the wheat like Mel had to do when she'd walked to her run down barn. I wouldn't be long until the parking lot was far behind them, and then finally out of sight completely. It was only then that Virgil was getting a look at just how far one stretch of land could take them. There was the faded ghost of mountains in the great distance, and every now and again they would pass patches of forests, but the countryside was mostly blank.

The radio continued to run white static, but it sputtered again and started to faintly pick up on a channel. Virgil turned it up in surprise and they waited for the sound to clear up. “Are we getting something?”

Turrets.

They'd picked up on some of the singing turrets from Aperture. Specifically, it sounded like two of them. Mel recognized the song being played as the one that had been her reward for helping the lonely turrets on her way to old Aperture. The woman's cheeks flushed at the thought, happier for them now more than ever. She wondered if they knew that she was leaving. Mel couldn't do much singing, but she pursed her lips together and started to whistle along instead. Virgil raised a brow at Mel, not used to hearing a lot of noise from the human, and then attempted to mimic her. No such luck.

The song was awfully familiar, though. He could only just remember a skeleton of the lyrics and he'd sung them while working a few times. He must have heard the turrets singing it before. He didn't feel like embarrassing himself now that he had an audience, so the core got the window to roll down and folded his arms over the door so he could get some wind through his hair and enjoy the drive. Now that they weren't going through a pitch black tunnel it wasn't so frightening.

The turrets singing would not last forever, though, and after a few minutes the song cut out and returned to blank static. Not only had the radio stopped picking up on the turrets, but Virgil all of a sudden became very uncomfortable in his own head. He blinked a few times, everything feeling a little fuzzier, now, and he pinched his brow with a groan. He wasn't reading some of his old functions correctly and the Wifi he'd taken so much pride in was not in service. The vast archives of knowledge he could access on a daily basis had been cut off, as well.

They were no longer in range of Aperture's signal.

[emma-trevelyan]

Daichi Rare Pair Week Day 3: Video Games

Pairing: Sawamura Daichi/Azumane Asahi Prompt:  Colors / Video games / Sport swap AU Rating: G Ao3

Space was cold, vast, and lonely. His ship drifted above Earth as he fought the urge to check his phone. Again. He said he’d play tonight, but maybe something came up. Maybe Daichi suddenly remembered he had a test tomorrow and forgot to tell him he’s be cramming all night. Maybe something happened!

But when the familiar T-shaped cruiser glided into orbit behind his own, Asahi’s heart beat a little easier.

~~~

“Fuck!” Daichi grumbled, tossing his backpack haphazardly across the room. “I’m fucking late. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!”

“I’m pretty sure Azumane would object to that if I did, as appealing as you are,” Kuroo chuckled from his spot on the couch. His laptop was perched open on his crossed legs, but there was a distinct lack of thick textbooks or complex tables and charts that Daichi can never follow (no matter what Kuroo tries), so it was obvious he wasn’t studying. Therefore, Daichi had no qualms about throwing him out of the living room. Kuroo gave Daichi a judgemental once-over. “Please tell me you didn’t leave the house looking like that today. Please tell me you’re changing before you do a video call with Azumane!”

Daichi stared at his clothing choices for the day--black joggers, a ratty hoodie, and his athletic socks. He hadn’t been able to find his contact case, so he’d been stuck with his glasses; “What’s wrong with the way I look?”

“Daichi, I swear to Christ if you left the house in socks with your Adidas fucking slides, I will disown you,” Kuroo deadpanned. Daichi was ready to bodily throw him out of the living room--just to spite him--but he was already packing up his laptop. “I don’t know what Azumane sees in you. What’s on the agenda for tonight?”

“Destiny,” Daichi replied. “We tried Overwatch last week, but you can’t really carry a conversation in that setting.”

“Fair,” Kuroo replied with a shrug. “Don’t tell me, Asahi is McCree trash.”

“He mains Mercy, actually,” Daichi shot back, setting up the Playstation. He growled at the time--he was really late.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Kuroo said. “Well, have fun. Don’t stay up too late, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“That doesn’t leave me a lot of options, Kuroo,” Daichi retorted, tapping his fingers impatiently while he waited for Skype to load. “But thanks.”

As soon as Daichi was in the game, he hit the video call button for Asahi. It took approximately ten seconds for that gorgeous face to fill his screen, and Daichi suddenly felt a bit self-conscious about his clothes. Asahi was wearing artfully distressed jeans and a dark flannel layered over a band tee. He looked fucking great--put together, a bit edgy maybe--and Daichi looked like a hot fucking mess. Hell, even the oil paints that seemed permanently embedded into Asahi’s hands looked deliberate, like he had just completely immersed himself in this artistic persona of his.

“Hey gorgeous,” Daichi sighed softly, grinning with triumph when Asahi flushed a brilliant red. “Wow, look at you. It’s been too long.”

“It’s been a week,” Asahi protested weakly.

“Still too long,” Daichi replied. “Why don’t we do this  more often?”

“School, work, life,” Asahi answered. His normal answer… the same thing he said every time. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” Daichi answered, trying to ignore the pang in his gut as the rift that seemed to be growing between them widened. It was small--a few centimeters tops--but it seemed to grow wider every time Daichi realized the distance between them. “Strike mode?”

“Sure,” Asahi said with a shrug. “I’m ready.”

They fell into a comfortable routine, catching up with each other’s lives between coordinating in the game. Thankfully, outside of a few boss fights, it was pretty mindless. They always used to do this with Suga back home in Miyagi--the three of them would play games together, sometimes co-op, sometimes against one another, sometimes taking turns on a single player game while the other two watched and absorbed. Between volleyball and homework, neither of them had much free time, so Daichi always treasured those moments. He’d fallen in love with Asahi in those moments, slowly but surely, and he wouldn’t ever regret it.

“How’re your classes?” Daichi asked, selecting his loadout for the mission.

“Hard,” Asahi replied. “I have this installation piece I’m working on that’s just not coming together how I want, and I have this essay on Georgia O’Keeffe due and man, research for that is awkward.”

“How come? Snipers on your left.”

“Thanks,” Asahi murmured. “Because she was… really preoccupied with vaginas, Daichi.”

“Excuse me?”

Like, all of her paintings. Vaginas. I know it says flowers in my textbook, but they were fucking vaginas and I’ll fight you.”

“I’ve never heard you say vagina this much ever,” Daichi chuckled, narrowly dodging enemy fire.

“Hang out with a bunch of gay ladies for long enough, you’ll hear about vaginas until you’re so numb to it, it’s barely a word,” Asahi said. “Hang on, I’m pinned.”

“On it,” Daichi replied. “So you have a harem of gay ladies, then?”

“I’ve been adopted by a harem of gay ladies,” Asahi corrected. “But enough about the four women who insist on calling themselves my moms, what about you? How’s Tokyo?”

“Did you know that studying corporate law is a fucking nightmare?” Because it is,” Daichi snarled, thinking back to his hellish business law class. He would beat his professor to death with his 40,000 yen text book if he had to sit through one more three-hour lecture given to the fucking white board.

“I thought you were studying criminal law,” Asahi said.

“I am,” Daichi grumbled bitterly. “But corporate law is on the exams to get into grad school and it’s on the Bar, so sadly I can’t just tune it out. If I have to read one more boring case study about Corporation A using Tax Loophole B to make C amounts of millions, I am going to throttle someone.”

“You are not,” Asahi laughed. “Is it really that bad?”

“No,” Daichi sighed. “I guess not. It’s just irritating. I wanted to become a lawyer to help people, and this is just making me want to live in a refrigerator box in the mountains somewhere. Only wear underwear, grow out my beard, scare tourists… all that fun jazz.”

“Hey, I’m going to be an artist,” Asahi laughed. “We can afford a premium refrigerator box in the city. So long as you’re ok with cuddling; I hear Tokyo streets get cold at night.”

“I’m great with cuddling, so long as it’s with you,” Daichi teased, shooting a wink out of the corner of his eye and sticking his tongue out in concentration. “What about you? Thought about replacing me, yet?”

Asahi was silent… so silent, Daichi was afraid he’d disconnected for a second before he cursed loudly; “Oh, fuck me! I died.”

“Need a res?”

“I can just wait,” Asahi grumbled. Out of his periphery, Daichi caught the sight of him shifting. He was likely pouting.

“Nah, I’ll come to you, give me a second,” Daichi said. It was weird--Asahi was good enough, he rarely died in games, but especially PVE on Destiny. Something was up… it was basically confirmed when Daichi revived him and he didn’t move at all. “Hey, you good? You haven’t moved?”

Daichi turned to the camera and it was pretty obvious that Asahi wasn’t paying attention to the goings on in the game anymore, because he was staring at him. His eyes were wide, but soft and warm, and it made a pleasant tingle work it’s way down to Daichi’s toes. He hadn’t seen Asahi in so long, and even longer since he’d seen that specific expression. It nearly knocked the wind out of him.

“Do you, um… want to keep playing?” Daichi asked.

“Not really,” Asahi answered.

“Want to hang up, then? Get some work done?”

“Not a chance.”

They finished their mission, switched off their Playstations, and settled into the silence. It had gotten dark in Daichi’s living room, and his face was only illuminated by his laptop. Asahi had switched on the lamp on his bedside table, bathing him in a golden glow. He looked so gorgeous… Daichi would never be over it. College had changed him so much… fuck, had it really only been two months since they’d last visited each other?

(Only two months, as if every day didn’t hurt like a bitch)

“I never want to replace you.”

Daichi snapped out of his train of thought like a mousetrap; “What?”

Asahi was staring at him with those wide, calf-brown eyes again. He’d always loved Asahi’s eyes, with their warm, golden-brown tone and dark lashes. It was always what drew him to Asahi in the beginning. He loved how open they were.

“I don’t ever want to replace you, Daichi,” he repeated. “You’re… you’re it for me. I love you so much, and you’re just… you’re forever. You’re endgame, ok?”

This wasn’t the first time Asahi had proclaimed endless love to Daichi. It wasn’t the first time he’d looked Daichi right in the eye and told him that he was in it for the long haul. And yet, as much as Daichi wanted to tease him for it, that gloomy Friday night, it knocked Daichi clear on his ass. He cursed the quavering in his voice as he tried to respond.

“I love you too, you big goof,” Daichi said, swiping his thumbs under his eyes. “Why do you have to go and say things like that?”

“Because it’s true,” Asahi replied with a smile. Daichi wanted to swear at him--where did all this confidence come from? And for that matter, why could he only have it when there were computer screens between them?

Daichi did the last thing he wanted to do ever, let alone in front of Asahi. He always felt bad, because Asahi felt bad, and there wasn’t anything either of them could do. And yet, he couldn’t help it.

He cried.

“God, I hate this,” Daichi whimpered, trying to rub his tears off his face. It didn’t work. “I hate that I can’t see you. I hate that you’re not here with me.”

Asahi sighed, rubbing discreetly at the corners of his eyes with his knuckles, but the catch in his voice gave him away; “We knew it would be like this, Daichi. We were prepared.”

“But I wasn’t,” Daichi countered. He only let himself be like this in front of Asahi. He hated it about himself--he hated the selfish part of him that wanted Asahi to drop everything--his bid for grad school, his art, his current degree, and just come out to Tokyo to be with him. He wanted to hold his boyfriend every night. He wanted to kiss him every morning. “I didn’t realize how much I would fucking miss you, you perfect asshole. Fuck, why is this so hard?”

“I miss you too,” Asahi said softly. He was fidgeting with his hands, which meant he was shaking. “All the time. I wish you were here, or I was there, and… I wish I’d had the courage to just send my portfolio to Tokyo, like you’d told me to. But there’s nothing we can do now. This has to be enough.”

“Playing video games over Skype isn’t enough, Asahi!” Daichi yelled, probably too loudly. Daichi tried to calm down, because he wasn’t mad at Asahi. He could never be mad at Asahi, especially when he made those perfect puppy eyes at him. “I just… want to do that gross couple stuff that makes it all worthwhile, like cooking together and going on dates and just occupying the same space without pressure to carry a conversation. I just want to be next to you. And I can’t… and it sucks.”

“Just two weeks, Daichi,” Asahi assured, and since when did their relationship take that fucking turn, where Asahi was reassuring him? “Just two more weeks, and we’ll be on break. And then it’s a whole month of just you and me. I’m going to come out there and it will just be the two of us. Just two more weeks.”

“Well, the two of us and Kuroo,” Daichi laughed. “And his cat. They live here, too.”

“Gumball is a treasure and I don’t mind her presence,” Asahi replied with a weak chuckle. At least he was smiling. That made Daichi feel better. “And I suppose I can deal with Kuroo picking on us for being gross and coupley. So long as I get to hold you.”

Daichi flushed; “Asahi, stop. You’re being cute again.”

“I wouldn’t have to be, if you weren’t adorable,” Asahi teased.

Daichi hid his face in his hands; “You’re adorable.”

There was a brief pause before Daichi could peek between his fingers. Asahi was burrowed into his pillows, smiling softly at the screen. Two weeks was too long, in Daichi’s opinion. But even if he wasn’t there with him, he had Asahi. And he was there for him, and he could survive two more weeks.

They should have hung up. Maybe did some homework while texting each other. But they couldn’t. They stayed on the chat, watching each other and talking about nothing until one of them fell asleep.

Just like a normal couple.

[withgoodintcntions]

Moving on up.

It’s been over a year since I last wrote a post for this blog, and a lot has happened in the interim. Where to begin? In reading over the posts of M1-past, I am struck by how vivid a picture I painted of my first month of medical school--and how much has changed between that point and now. 

For starters, I’ve now seen so many SPs that touching a stranger or asking them questions otherwise unsuitable for civilized conversation is no longer a foreign feeling. Once I made the (what should have been obvious) connection that white coat equals a certain set of privileges and responsibilities with respect to personal space, I fairly quickly adjusted. I still remember the first time I did an exam other than HEENT. At that point, looking in people’s ears, eyes, and noses was now normal. Having them undress so I could take a look at their abdomen was certainly not. Again, with time, shock and uncertainty was replaced with confidence and self-assurance. Since then, I’ve learned a full lymph node exam, abdominal exam, chest exam, vision testing, cognition, neurological function and muscle strength/range of motion exams. I survived the dreaded evolution of taking a full patient history. I’ve now done it in the context of not only the well-looking patient, but one clutching their head in agony. I’ve counseled patients on diseases like diabetes, high blood pressure, weight loss methods, and how to properly use an inhaler. I’ve learned basic suture techniques, IV placement, injections, and intubation. 

In short: I look back at who I was then, and only through reading my reflections can I remember what it was like before I had the mantra of ‘CC, HPI, PMSHx, FHx, social, ROS’. The entirety of M1 year, we had checklists to help guide our histories of various present illnesses and to make sure we hit all of the most important physical exam techniques. Now, we’re tossed in the deep end and asked to swim--and it’s not that difficult to stay afloat. 

Classwork is still the same as it ever was, but I’ve streamlined my entire approach. I am very selective about which lectures I attend. I spend the majority of my time using outside resources to make sure I’m learning the material for each block in the order I need and with the right amount of emphasis on every component. I have tricks for learning pharmacology and microbiology. I’ve cultivated a small but effective library of textbooks that now live on a bookshelf by my (recently acquired) desk. I’ve got a comfortable work space set up with candles, task lighting, and a view to keep me from never seeing the sun, because I’m always here, working on something. 

My insights on life beyond studies still hold true. As predicted, times did get tough periodically. Running, volleyball, studying at a local Starbucks, and finding good groups of friends to study with really helped. Self care really can’t be emphasized enough in medical school. I’ve seen first-hand over the last year or so the toll it can take when you don’t take care of yourself. It’s a struggle to find a balance that keeps things tolerable, and at times you hate everyone and everything. To be frank, it sucks, but the good part is that if you take the time to look around and open up to your colleagues, you’ll find you’re not alone. Sometimes, that’s all you need to tip things back in your favor. 

I wish I’d taken the time to write about my first experience with our cadaver. I couldn’t even try to re-capture that moment. However, when we returned from our summer break, we found we had fresh cadavers to continue our dissections with. I couldn’t have been more awestruck by the delicate beauty of the fine nerve fibers piercing through muscle tissue as they coursed to their destinations. As I examined the tiny blood vessel running alongside each white strand, I realized how much my eye had developed for those sorts of details. Over the course of the last year, we examined the musculoskeletal system, sliced brains into cross-sections to study the structures therein, and removed hearts and lungs to study their lobes and valves. Now, we’ve come to the GI tract. Even though our cadaver honestly reeks to high heaven due to an inadvertent gallbladder decompression maneuver and an unusual amount of standing fluid, I have enjoyed every moment of lab. Searching through mesentery for vasculature and separating layers of muscles brings peace to an otherwise chaotic block--a feeling that has slowly developed since the very first time I laid scalpel to skin to expose what was underneath.

Other things have changed in my life. As I’d hoped, I found a better living situation with a roommate who is largely a joy to be around. We spend what little free time we have playing volleyball, cooking, and getting (very sporadic) pedicures. Though I enjoyed the change of pace that came with living alone, I have equally enjoyed having her here to distract and commiserate with. Though it seems like just yesterday I was assigned a ‘big sibling’ in the M2 class, I now have a ‘little sibling’ of my own to keep an eye on. It has been nothing short of extraordinary getting to know the new M1 class, and truly eye-opening. I recall looking at the M2 class above me with awe as they confidently strutted onto campus for their OSCE days. They seemed so calm and collected, like they had their lives together. Now, a year later, I find I am that M2, and it’s my job to assure the M1s below me that this time next year, they will be just as confident to don the white coat and enter an exam room. 

As we move toward the end of this block, I am cognizant of the fact that it has not been my favorite one. A chaotic final week of exam prep is about to commence, and with it comes responsibilities that seem to have tripled since my first days here. The biggest change I can cite in this moment is how relatively unperturbed I am. Eventually, you begin to roll with the punches; and not a moment too soon. That flexibility I spoke of when I was moving across the country is still invaluable. The week ahead brings thousands of flash cards, practice clinical vignettes, the weekly case assignment, and likely a few unforeseen obstacles. Thankfully, I’ve got friends, a free yoga class, and two pairs of sneakers ready for a jog to carry me through. This not-so-freshly-minted M2 is ready to say so long to GI, and hello to Renal!

[bffhreprise]

Entry 335

 “James!” exclaimed Jarod as he worked on something I couldn’t see from the descending platform.  Turning around seeing the rest of us, he said, “And more visitors!”

 I was excited to finally be getting one of the enhancement suits I had heard about periodically while growing up.  Though I knew many ways to create a suit which would allow someone to lift more and move more quickly, none of the designs utilized my parents’ magic, making them inferior.  Daddy and Mom knew far more than most species could hope to learn in a lifetime, and that knowledge included countless spells I hadn’t seen on any planet before.

 The lab wasn’t modern by my standards, but I could easily make guesses about how numerous contraptions worked after watching them a little.  Mechanical arms were moving parts around the room as other machines produced them.  Some of my friends would be quite jealous if they knew I got to see such ancient technology in person.  Of course, they had been jealous many times when I talked about my adventures with my parents, exploring ruins.

 “Sorry to intrude, but we knew Dani would love to see your lab and needs her suit to keep up around here.” replied Mom with a smile.  “Aurora works this late?

 “Occasionally, though not frequently.  Don’t worry.  Her parents are informed.” insisted Jarod.

 Mom quickly assured him “I wasn’t worried.  Just surprised.”

 “Aurora?” I questioned, hearing the name again.  “Oh!  I remember!”  I could picture the light brown shade of her hair, her slightly darker skin, and the unique features of her face.  I made a note to add her to my painting later.  There was room.  She was supposed to be brilliant!  Leaning over the descending platform’s edge, I caught sight of Aurora inside of a… primitive flying machine.  Well, maybe not primitive on Earth.

 The beautiful fairy left us, flying down to soar around Aurora.  The fairy’s mental projections showed her excitement at seeing Aurora as she announced our presence, ruining any chance to sneak up on her.

 Jarod seemed to be watching me with amusement.  Catching my eyes, he said, “I loved your painting earlier, Dani.  Sorry that I didn’t stick around longer, but I wanted to get some more work done.”

 “Where did Ai and Mai go?” I asked, flipping off the lift and using a spell to decelerate.  I couldn’t sense them even now that I was focused on looking.  Aurora’s emotions were interesting.  Despite the fairy’s excited projections, Aurora seemed… focused, almost like some barrier was between everything outside of her work and the work itself.  I probably wouldn’t notice as much without the fairy’s view in my head.  Looking back to Jarod, I said, “I thought they’d be with you.”

 “They’re probably doing their own work.  Alma likes to keep them busy.” replied Jarod, shrugging off my concern.

 I knew he felt much happier with the twins next to him, and they did as well.  “Mom?  Why!?” I asked, spinning to face her.

 She casually jumped over to me just before the platform touched the ground, landing lightly and smiling at me.  “Dani, you know that civilizations need workers to continue developing.” she reminded me, brushing my hair away from my face with her fingers.

 “But they’re so happy around him!” I insisted, knowing Mom would easily know this if she used her fey senses.

 “And I’m happy when I’m with them, but they don’t really enjoy watching me work and can be a bit distracting.” stated Jarod from behind me, amusement coming through clear, but his desire to see his wives was there when he spoke of them.

 Here I was trying to help him, and he was just making a joke!  “But… but…” I started, not knowing a way to help the three be together when they wouldn’t even admit their feelings.  Feeling a flash of… discomfort, I turned to the source.  I stepped over to Emma and looked into her eyes.  “What’s wrong?  I know what you’re feeling… that you sense what I feel as well.  Don’t you think they’re better when they’re together?”

 I felt her confusion as she stepped away from me.  She had been fighting with her emotions ever since the forest, trying not to openly stare at me anymore.  I knew she desired me, and she was quite beautiful too, but… she didn’t want to be with me, not now.  I didn’t get why.

 Cosette stepped between us, a protective feeling coming off her.  She suppressed many emotions within her, too well for me to really know them.  “What do you feel from me?”  The curiosity surfaced and disappeared, suppressed as well.

 “Amusement, among other things.  You’re hiding something.” I told her, reaching up to touch her face.  Cosette was a vampire, and her species was known for their beauty.  As far as I could tell, her skin was far smoother than normal, without any discoloration.  “Daddy!  She’s cold!” I informed him, grinning as I glanced at him.  I knew her body temperature was supposed to be lower, but actually feeling it was exciting.

 “Didn’t notice earlier?” he questioned with a smile.

 “No, we never touched till now.  She’s too fast.” I complained, knowing that Cosette had been avoiding any direct contact.  I decided to play with her, now that I had her, forcing her to feel what I did when I gazed into those beautiful blue eyes of her.  Her control slipped, and I could suddenly feel so much more from her.  She was a little scared, a little curious.  There was a hunger in her.  She felt predatory, but she also… hid.  Despite the numerous other sensations coming from her, there were more buried still.  I hadn’t shocked her enough.

 “What…!?” exclaimed Cosette, quickly stepping away from me.

 “Dani, behave.” chided Mom lovingly.

 “But… I was just…” I started, wanting to explain that I almost had her.  Knowing Mom wouldn’t approve, I sighed and said, “Fiiine.”

 “What were you doing to me?” questioned Cosette, her feelings firmly suppressed again.

 “Showing you what I feel.” I told her, not hiding my disappointment that I was stopped.

 “You can do that?” asked Jarod excitedly.  When I nodded, he asked “Mind showing me?”

 I grinned, quickly moving over to him before he changed his mind.  I touched him, enjoying his surprise and curiosity.  I could feel him trying to control himself, though not as well as Cosette.  There had been a time of excitement on the island when I learned about Jarod, a man married to two women.  Polygamy was a step closer to my people from what I understood, but… Ai and Mai weren’t exactly two people.  There were two bodies, but nearly one mind.  Mom insisted that I couldn’t tell others of this, only telling me to stop my arguments.

 “What sort of range do you have for… whatever you call that?” he asked, winning out over his emotions.

 “Several hundred feet at least.  You should try hide and seek with her.” suggested Mom.

 “I wouldn’t stand a chance against either of you.” he freely admitted.

 “Still could be fun to try.  There’s nothing wrong with practicing stealth.” claimed Cosette, watching me with a sense of curiosity.  She was probably a master at hiding herself when she wanted.  There was far less information available to me on her than on most of those living here, but I doubted she really had secrets from Daddy.

 “Sure.  I’d like a couple weeks to prepare first.  I have a few things I’d like to test out.” he replied with a large grin and excitement welling up inside of him.

 I’d look forward to seeing what he’d create for the occasion, though I was really trying not to get my hopes too high.

 “I don’t suppose we can add ‘no gizmos’ to the rules.” teased Emma, knowing well that Jarod couldn’t use magic.  She was still studying me.

 Feeling the strange presence reaching me, I spun and attempted to hug Aurora, but she was far too quick in her enhancement suit.  Her focus had been on me for the past half minute or so, and now she easily held one of my arms to examine, her fingertips lightly moving over my skin as she felt my muscles.  The little fairy had followed her, and was very curious what we were doing instead of playing with her.

 “Daddy, I need my suit!” I complained, knowing that I’d be the stronger one if I had my suit.  My people didn’t greatly surpass humans physically, but we were stronger on average.  Our bodies also could handle far more alcohol due to the slight enhancement from our natural magic and twin livers.  Reaching up slowly, I felt Aurora’s hair, happy when she didn’t dodge me.

 “Yes, but you need to go over designs with your mom first.” insisted Daddy.

 “Designs?  Planning a modification without me?” asked Jarod with a tiny amount of hurt and a little amusement.

 “No, you’re here.” teased Daddy.  “Alma and I have been talking about the possibility of reducing the suit’s bulk by decreasing the synthetic muscle mass.  If I’ve successfully fine-tuned my spells for it, there shouldn’t be too much of a drop off compared with the enhancement currently provided.”

 “I’ve honestly wondered if the suit’s even needed or if most of the work is done by your spells.” admitted Jarod, curious again, but also a little sad.

 “My spells enhance what’s there first and foremost.  Unfortunately, flesh can’t hold the enchantment, or I’d be able to use this directly on people.  I did add spell layers which should further enhance the muscles of the suit’s wearer as well as general durability of the wearer’s skin, muscles, and bones, but there still will be a net loss compared with what the enchantment would do on the current suit design until you come up with even more incredible fibers.” insisted Daddy.

 “I would have thought the spells used to add the morphic quality on my suit could be used to reinforce muscles as used.” suggested Cosette.  “The effect seems to be rapid enough.”

 At her suggestion, Emma and Jarod both felt surprised, openly watching her.

 “What?” she questioned.  “I study and pay attention.”

 “I’m actually going to be using something of that nature on Dani’s suit.” replied Daddy with a smile.

 Cosette nodded, not surprised at all.

 “Dani, let’s start looking over possible designs.” stated Mom as she carefully extricated me from Aurora’s examination.  Mom apparently told her something telepathically as well, since Aurora stared at her for a couple seconds, and then went back to working on the flying vehicle.

 Mom and I moved off to one of the nearby screens, and Mila showed us the preliminary design for the suit, which was far too bulky for my tastes.  Negotiating with Mom was tough as ever.  I knew my parents meant well, but they really did have the strangest aversion to skin.

,,,^._.^,,,

 “I still am not used to the idea of you being called ‘daddy’.  Might take a few weeks.” I admitted, stepping up to James, Emma, and Cosette after Dani and Alma had moved off to discuss the outfit.  I knew that I wouldn’t really be needed.  Between Mila and Alma, there was plenty of engineering knowledge to make any desired adjustments.  “Do I get to tell my parents?”

 “Of course.  We’re not going to hide her, though we are going to disguise her in public.” he replied with a knowing smile.  He really was very different.

 Smiling back, I asked, “Don’t think the pink skin will go over well?”

 “She’d certainly draw attention.” he agreed, drastically understating how people would openly stare like the rest of us had.

 “What’s on your belt?” I asked, trying to throw him off from the self-assured manner that possessed him now.

 ��Pardon?” he asked, seeming sincerely confused for a second.  Then he touched the invisible object and said, “Oh.  Well, Excalibur draws attention as well, so I started using an illusion over it.  How did you notice?”

 “I wasn’t even aware that you decided to take the sword on your honeymoon.  The way you move gives away that something’s there.  You turn or step around people now as if you’re keeping them from hitting something, occasionally even grabbing thin air.” I explained, happy that he hadn’t completely exchanged over his honeymoon.

 “Ah.  At least I no longer rest my hand on it.  That was a bit awkward for a while.” he told me, as if a couple weeks would really explain growing used to such a thing.  Of course, his mind was obviously much faster than when he was more human.  “Care to show me the designs for this new project of yours?”

 I grinned as I said, “Sure thing!  I was hoping you’d be willing to work out a spell to power it.”

 “Happily, though you won’t be able to market them with a magical power source.” he pointed out.

 “I know, but I still haven’t found a solid solution yet.  Aaliyah keeps telling me to give myself time, but impatience has been winning out lately.” I replied, wondering if Aaliyah might have too much faith in my abilities.  Everything seemed so simple to her.

 “Why not take advantage of Maxine’s knowledge?” suggested Cosette, watching my reaction.

 Emma nodded and smiled, saying, “Portentia and Mila seem to be keeping her out of trouble.”  Then she looked back to where Dani and Alma were discussing designs.

 “Has she inquired about making a new optical device yet?” inquired James.

 “No.” I told him, realizing that James had intended for her to ask me.  “I really don’t want to work with her on principle, but she’s brilliant.  I know discussing designs with her again could be nice if she was forthcoming about her achievements.”  I wasn’t completely confident that I’d even keep up with Maxine if we worked together, given that she had managed finishing her exosuit before I could come up with a sufficient power source, though her power source would kill any mortal who wore the suit.

 “She’s probably planning on waiting us out still, but I can try to persuade her if you aren’t opposed to giving her a chance.  I’d like to believe she can change.” claimed James with a thoughtful expression.

 I nodded, knowing that Maxine could be extremely useful if he did manage to persuade her.  I was grateful for the time to grow accustomed to the idea instead of having her thrust on me unannounced.  Despite James being different now, I still had complete faith that he was looking after all of our well-beings.

[loveandbeatings-blog]

The best Side of strawberry face mask

For applying honey to be a moisturizing mask: Use a single spoon of honey on cleanse, dry skin, and Enable it sit for 15-20 minutes. Rinse with great water. It will eventually serve as a wonderful moisturizing mask. Acts like a Pore Cleanser: Honey works very well for tightening our skin and is a great moisturizer. I study your content and locate them exceptionally practical. You happen to be these a fantastic author therefore you give us an in-depth information regarding almost everything you compose. Mash each of the substances with each other, but never puree in a blender: you would like this to generally be spreadable, not a liquid. Implement evenly around your face and Permit sit eight-10 minutes. Wipe off by using a warm, moist facecloth after which you can rinse with great h2o. Pat dry. Very few that honey can be used to cleanse pores and eradicate blackheads. Since Honey incorporates antioxidants, antiseptic, and antibacterial Attributes, it helps to rid the skin of blackheads by getting rid of Grime from pores. Mixture skin implies you might have a slightly oily T-zone and drier cheeks with dry patchy places in this article and there. This rose-based mostly mask is perfect for balancing out the oily and dry parts of the skin. That’s as the career of cinnamon is to wash the skin from underneath, it delivers out all of the micro organism and your skin will get considerably more acne at the start mainly because it is having rid of anything beneath but after that the skin will search excellent–it works comparable to Proactive, it cleans almost everything beneath advert maintains that cleanliness Honey nourishes and moistens pores and skin, although cinnamon has strong antimicrobial Attributes that aid do away with blackheads and acne-leading to germs with the surface in the pores and skin. Ruin cost-free radicals that result in untimely growing older. Improve the appearence of aging skin. Lightens and fades age places, acne scars and blemishes. Please read on to find a cure on your skincare demands, and pin along with SELF on Pinterest for other good ideas. Due to the fact cinnamon is so powerful, I might advise only using this honey mask as soon as each week at most. You can use on the list of other, gentler honey masks on other days should you’d like. I comply with Inhabitat's Phrases of Use and Privateness Coverage, also to using cookies described therein, And that i also consent to the gathering, storage, and processing of my details in America, in which knowledge protection regulations may be unique from Those people in my state. The caffeine from coffee grounds During this cocoa-licious mask helps to cut back swelling and puffiness, though the antioxidants during the cocoa assist to lower ageing, along with the yogurt replenishes missing dampness. Mix all of the components jointly, unfold evenly around pores and skin, and permit it to sit down for about 10 minutes. When you rinse it off, massage your face gently to exfoliate as well. Your face is the ‘showroom’ of your life that lens initially perception on any person you satisfy. If the identical isn't favouring you, you significantly really need to exercise for a better face.

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Strawberry face mask, organized using strawberry and other normal elements are Superb for the skin and retains it nutritious. “We have been a participant during the Amazon Expert services LLC Associates System, an affiliate promoting plan built to provide a signifies for us to gain fees by linking to Amazon.com and affiliated website s.” Incorporate the lemon juice and honey, and utilize the combination for your face. Allow it to take a seat for 20-half an hour. Lemon juice exfoliates the skin, brightens dark spots and fades scars. Papaya is full of antioxidants, and its enzymes help to slough away aged, dry pores and skin cells for the glowing, healthful complexion. Jasmin Fiore in the Deva Lifestyle swears by papaya masks as Section of her therapeutic program, and sings the praises of the rejuvenating surprise-fruit. The moment you know and comprehend the bring about, it really is time to find a treatment. Since https://en.search.wordpress.com/?src=organic&q=skin+care+tips is caused due to blockage and subsequent infection in the sebum glands, clearing the blockage and combating the an infection ought to logically enable cure your acne signs or symptoms. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Facial_mask is where the honey mask for acne comes into Participate in. Using a honey mask for acne not just clears the blockage but in addition gets rid of the infectious microbes, Consequently lessening the signs of acne. The caffeine information can help minimize swelling and restore the skin's misplaced blush, brightness and vitality. The ground beans are excellent to clean and scrub, even though caffeine incorporates a tightening effect on your skin pores. Take care of oneself to an opulent wax treatment like they do in posh spas worldwide. Dip palms into heat wax and after that peel away leaving palms smooth and supple. Combine a few tablespoons of finely floor coffee beans with a little glass of milk. The mixture ought to have a thick regularity. Didi’s consider: “The mask, which I painted on having a basting brush, is obvious and dries quickly, to help you stroll throughout the dwelling with it on. It smelled so fresh new and felt so great that I saved it on for an extra five minutes. The caffeine from coffee grounds In this particular cocoa-licious mask helps to cut back swelling and puffiness, even though the antioxidants within the cocoa assist to scale back growing old, plus the yogurt replenishes misplaced humidity. Turmeric has anti-inflammatory Qualities that aid soothe the pores and skin. The part curcumin in turmeric lowers the production of melanin, and that is liable for your skin tone, and so helps take away blemishes and dim places (hyperpigmentation). Tips: Performs most effective when fresh new. Enable the mixture stand for approximately ten minutes right before implementing it for the acne-afflicted spots. Strawberry, a salacious bright crimson and heart-formed fruit, is cherished as one of The most crucial fruits, most effective known for the broad use of its flavour in ice creams, yogurt and sweets. But Do you know that many cosmetics and pores and skin care products use significant extracts from strawberries for the advantages they provide skin? Damp a washcloth and push it towards your face to loosen the mask, then rinse with heat drinking water. If you have sensitive skin, you'll want to stay clear of rubbing your face as the coffee grounds could probably scratch the skin.

What Does honey face mask Mean?

Following I rinsed, my face felt smoother than a silk pillow and was, in truth, so luminous that my husband asked if I had been tests a different face product. A brand new face product—suitable, that’s it.” Papaya is full of antioxidants, and its enzymes assist to slough absent aged, dry skin cells for just a glowing, balanced complexion. Jasmin Fiore with the Deva Life swears by papaya masks as Section of her healing program, and sings the praises of the rejuvenating speculate-fruit. Finally, rinse your face another time with awesome water to shut pores, and pat dry that has a comfortable towel. Get it done yourself: Which has a potato masher, mash the sugar and also açai powder or slush While using the berries, then slowly insert the olive oil; combine coarsely which has a whisk. Massage in the face. Leave on for about 5 minutes, then rinse with heat h2o. Thanks in your posting. I such as the way. You spelled out the honey mask Recommendations. Your mask is simple to make. I am going to check out it in my future spa treatment. I love it. Mister healmunsta. This do-it-yourself face mask is healthier For those who have sensitive or dry pores and skin, because it's gentler and more nourishing. You will need ground coffee beans, two times as much ground oats as well as a tablespoon of honey. mask should be applied on cleanse pores and skin on the face and continue to keep for 20 minutes, then rinse beneath running h2o. Blend two spoons of peel powder with among milk and include a spoon of coconut oil to bind the ingredients together. Homemade face masks are crammed with mother nature's restorative goodness, in the form from the nutrients, minerals, acids, and oils stated inside the tables over, with none of your substances that retailer-bought masks must consist of for an extended shelf lifetime. Hello :) i just did the lemon mask Together with the strawberry And that i cherished it but how often am i able to use it? Day to day hopefully Also Its best if you don't do this Mask For those who have a Distinctive Event or occasion attend in the following two or 3 times just incase in case you face receives a little a yellow tint. Yeast - a versatile solution. With them and pastries taste better, and alcoholic beverages stronger and even more lovely pores and skin. Inside of them you have to take tablets, nevertheless the masks are ideal for refreshing yeast. The use of yeast with the skin For mask recipes that call for honey, vegans can either substitute a small amount of pureed banana, or perhaps omit it. When it’s time to wash the mask off, you should definitely place a strainer within your sink or shower drain to catch massive particles: you don’t desire to clog your drains. Make an avocado and witch hazel face mask. Avocado has vitamin E which can be great for dry skin, and witch hazel receives rid of excessive oil in addition to impurities. Mash the flesh of an avocado.

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Blend all components collectively in a small bowl. Utilize a thin layer in excess of your total face and neck. Rest for twenty minutes and rinse with warm h2o. Repeat the mask weekly or utilize the combination being a every day location treatment method by dabbing it on to discoloration. Final results will just take two-three months. Distribute the mask in your face using a cotton pad and therapeutic massage it for a few minutes to eliminate dead skin cells and strengthen circulation. If there’s any mask remaining in excess of Once you clean your face with it, include a certain amount of h2o to it and use it for a scrub for that backs of your respective arms and every other entire body portion that would do with a few smoothing. for ageing pores and skin: the use of yeast in which they restore the skin collagen is lost with age, leaving the skin regains its youth and elasticity; so this homemade anti-getting old face mask is extremely successful in struggle with wrinkles; The citric acid inside the orange peel also exfoliates and brightens up your skin. Here are some orange peel face masks which you can make in your own home for just a radiant seem. Rinse it off with lukewarm h2o, and use a toner. If you do not have a toner, just use lemon juice or a mix of one aspect apple cider vinegar and two sections distilled drinking water. You may use this acne face mask Nearly everyday. As you'll be able to see, making use of an orange peel face mask has a number of benefits that function for different skin varieties. No matter what you would like it for, orange peel powder is certainly a blessing. What a cool concept! I like receiving the most out on the things I purchase, And that i usually really feel terrible composting wonderful, fragrant orange peels. Now I realize how to proceed with them! I conform to Inhabitat's Terms of Use and Privacy Plan, and to the use of cookies described therein, and I also consent to the gathering, storage, and processing of my knowledge in The usa, the place knowledge safety legal guidelines may be different from All those in my country. Consider what a luscious blend it truly is! Have a complete major tbsp of coffee powder and increase in one tbsp of honey. Mix nicely and apply over the face and neck in circular motion. 2tsp wheatgerm oil Recommendations: Combine all the elements right into a easy paste. Utilize and therapeutic massage the combination into skin. Maintain the mask on for twenty minutes. Yeast (one tablespoon) diluted in warm water to type a liquid and to be thickened with rye or wheat flour till creamy condition. Pot having a mass must be wrapped with a heat towel and left in a very warm place for three hours. If you need to immediately eradicate acne, it truly is perfect for this mask: cleanse grapefruit and grind it into a blender or grinder to the consistency of porridge; *Note: this mask will also be utilized on eczema patches on other elements of Your whole body, like internal arms, the backs of the knees, your neck, and many others. For areas in addition to your face, you may depart the treatment method on to get a bit for a longer period ahead of washing it off.

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Utilize the mixture on to your face making use of clear finger ideas in the circular motion. Permit sit for quarter-hour. On this time, you can take A fast soak within the bathtub or examine a chapter of that guide you’ve been intending to complete. Preserve yourself relaxed. Want to show everyday right into a fantastic pores and skin day? Need to know ways to keep the skin youthful, refreshing, and glowing 24/seven? Every single man or woman would like to look and feel their very best all the time. Our self-assurance is directly proportionate to just how we feel about ourselves. Deriving the most beneficial away from you is having said that a process which might be tremendously assisted with the use of intelligent solutions. Yeast is part of masks for your face - extremely powerfulSkin-treatment products and solutions. But whether it is Mistaken to rely on them, you can put you and damage. Thus recommends healingandbodywork acquainted having a few handy suggestions: Right before planning a mask from yeast, Look at the expiration date of many of the components. Software: Utilize the mask with your face (particularly on afflicted regions), and leave it on for ten to 15 minutes. Then, rinse off your face with lukewarm h2o. Next that, clean your face again with cold drinking water. Papaya is full of antioxidants, and its enzymes enable to slough absent outdated, dry skin cells to get a glowing, healthier complexion. Jasmin Fiore of The Deva Daily life swears by papaya masks as Component of her therapeutic regimen, and sings the praises of the rejuvenating question-fruit. all right nicely it seems to have created my skin smoother, but I have 1 suggestion: it could seem to be clear, but don’t put it as part of your eyebrows!! ? the cinnamon receives caught in them and you have to wipe it out harshly using a wet paper towel or wipe hahah & also when rinsing your face don’t scrub with the fingers, do it gently or it’ll bring about discomfort from your smaller items of cinnamon powder and it’s kinda distressing ? I’m going to try and check back again in tomorrow morning to determine if and of my acne has cleared up! Blend all ingredients together in a little bowl. Implement a thin layer around your entire face and neck. Relaxation for twenty minutes and rinse with warm h2o. Repeat the mask weekly or make use of the combination as being a everyday spot remedy by dabbing it on to discoloration. Success will consider two-3 months. In very few men and women, yeast may well induce an allergic reaction. You are able to do a patch test over the back of one's hand right before applying the pack on your face should you suspect that you'll be allergic to yeast. Method: Mix all of them in a bowl and apply a thick coat on your own face. Allow it perform its magic for quarter-hour until eventually it dries out. Then rinse with drinking water and dry your face which has a towel. Use a moisturiser quickly to avoid dry skin. So with any luck , this cinnamon and honey mask is just One more stage in the direction of that flawless glowing pores and skin objective shining vivid in the gap. Hope Everybody here will get there much too for oily skin: no other cosmetic merchandise is capable so helps make slender enlarged pores and eliminate at the earliest opportunity unhealthy glow with the face; It's not challenging to make your individual orange peel powder—all you would like are oranges, a blender, and a person to 5 days (in order to give the orange peels time to dry). To make powdered orange peel, just help you save up orange peels within the organic and natural oranges you eat, clear away the white fribrous pieces on the inside in the peel, and wash them in warm distilled drinking water. डायबिटीजः इंसुलिन इंजेक्शन लगाने की सही तकनीक के बारे में जानना क्यों है जरूरी ?

[goglobalsmizz]

Chris O'Brien Lifehouse

How is care designed through spaces?

What does it suggest when a place has good design in its space, compared to normal hospitals where it’s *just* a substandard clinical design. That leaves you and the place feeling bland, feeling institutionalised?

You could argue that it doesn’t make much difference in the great scheme of things, given that within cancer care (for example) it’s saving your life. Does it matter what the space and the materials look like?

I remember when I was doing my AS levels at high school, we got the option of “AS level in science for public understand” It was a great class- and one thing we had to do was use science knowledge with research criticality and present debates from a psycho-social perspective of issues. One things I had to write an essay on was whether sick-building syndrome was real. At the time I guess I was a bit skeptical, but now experience and a much deeper knowledge of social determinate and driments, and the power of architecture and space, and asbestos has changed my perception. Of course a building could technically make you sicker. Think mould on the walls in tenants houses with crappy landlords.

Yes, the visual and spatial concerns matter.  There’s endless studies that show having a view from a hospital bed increases the likelihood of a faster recovery (https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0360132312001758), the influences of landscape features on visitation of hospital green spaces makes the perception of care better ((2017) International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health)

The visual language of healthcare fascinates me no end. How different countries do it, how we negotiate it, how we hack it, how we begin to love it. 

 The differentiation we make. So the hospital space is super clinical, and the Maggies Centre is purpose design and uniquely built. For example, why isn’t the contemporary art work from the local contemporary art gallery collection in the hospital, instead of the Maggies centre?

Jane generosity gave us a tour of the Lifehouse Cancer Centre, a place which she knows intimately.

I dragged Vanda with me, I said, “it’ll be interesting!” I’m sure this is  exactly what she had in mind when I said we’d explore Sydney together. We get there too early to meet Jane and wander around the campus site.  There’s a fancy McCafe, where all the ER staff are getting drinks and cakes.  It has a great working desk space. We get drinks and wander around the sites. There’s a hospital that looks like a cheap holiday resort in Spain. Maybe it’s the palm trees that gives it that vibe. When we share our observations with Jane she laughs. It’s not the point of reference she’s used to.

We walk around the whole Lifehouse building and come across Street art on the wall.

I’ve never seen street art on a hospital before. Murals, yes. But there is a significant difference between mural and street-art. Street art is cool, rebellious, it has it’s beat to the ground up. Murals tend to be a safe version of wall-art. It’s history lies in a different part of activism history to street-art. but they did start off more political - but the mural has lost its edge as a more fuzzy & controlled art-form. Groups & institutions, like charities, schools and hospitals, like murals. They think it represents community, often made by someone who *might* have spoken to some people there to design it. So they’d like to think it’s a collaboration - but as Vanda said when we wandered underground in Sydney & the walls were painted by a never ending mural - it has a communist vibe. It’s like pretending things are cool - a mask. But underneath that, is a power-battle. Street-art seems to somehow escape this rebranding, this fuzziness. It still feels edgy - maybe it’s the spray paint material?

I make a mental note of street art.

And we meet Jane in the lobby. She takes us in a glass lift. This changes the hospital vibe for sure. Even in good hospitals in the UK, the lifts tend to be big, metal and dark.

She takes us to the chemotherapy lounge and gets the head nurse, K. , to give a tour. (they work together on research papers and projects together now). She tells us it used to be open plan, but now everyone gets their own booth. It’s very private. If you’re lucky - you get a seat with a window view.

There’s a beautiful vine flower bush growing over the window, giving a different perspective of being in Italy along the coast or something.  I think back to the chemotherapy departments I’ve been in. One had a conservatory, which was nice in a way for the natural light but there was nothing to look at. Just the carpark of Doncaster. The other 2 had windows but they were built up high. All these spaces were mostly open planned. Different types of “comfortable leathery” deep chairs. I remember just watching tennis, wimbledon, on a  communal TV. Other times I got told I should bring a book/magazine.  

K. explains why things are like they are. It makes sense. Chemo is highly hazardous and toxic. For clinical reasons. I ask to take a photo of the empty half overflow section, and she moves the magazines out of the way to make it look tidier. Weird how we think items outside of the hospital can make the space seem less “clinical” or messy.

We say how much we like the wallpaper, which is drawings of people sketched all over. It’s contemporary. Like an art piece almost. K. says they have drawn themselves on pieces of paper and have put them onto the wall like a lil where’s wally. I love that idea. Hacking, personalising the space, putting identity back into it.

On the way out I notice near the self-checkin machines there’s a cool comic about cancer framed on the wall. I wonder about whether it’s available for people in print-out to take away and not just as cool art, as it captures something a lot of hospital literature doesn’t.

Jane then takes us to the “Patients only” space. It’s a room that’s like a library. Many shelves of books, 2 computers, an over and kitchen space and huge table with a massive 5,000 piece jigsaw on. At the window there’s models made from lolly-pop sticks, models of the hospital. Which is curious. Around the corner is a sleep area. I am impressed.

When I walked around a Maggies Centre in the UK, it was encouraged that people could just go there and sleep in front of everyone in the area. Just a place to take a chill in a social environment, not to be alone. And I always wondered why outpatients (& indeed general public space!) never had a space where you could have a little snooze. I can’t tell you how tired I am every time I’ve been at the hospital, even for just blood-tests. The subconscious worry and positioning of where you are takes its toll.

Jane says no healthcare professionals or hospital staff can use this space, it’s for patients only. I like that they have their own space. This is just so rare.

We leave and enter a huge open space, which is the support area. Here there’s everything: lymphodeama clinics, physios, occupational therapists, acupuncture, massage, support, and an amazzzzing gym. Better than our staff gym in Leeds.  Jane says there’s always personal trainers to help support you in whatever you want to do . Both Vanda and myself are really impressed. The view leaves a lot to be desired - but Jane has already thought this through. She wants to make a garden of sorts.

We go to leave. I notice now that the wallpaper is typography over layered into patterns. As a font lover, type-setter, I love it. Why does this make a difference to me? Why do I appreciate that the time and the focus has been taken to chose something as classy as this?

Everywhere we go I see piece of “art” but they’re placed and framed almost like interventions.  They’re not mounted on the wall. They don’t feel tired and aged like a lot of "hospital art*” does.

(* I hate that i’ve just called in “hospital art”, but what I mean here is that the general theme of what art tends to be placed in the institution - expressive abstract that’s done in natural and calm colours, or tried-and-tested landscape images. Rarely do we get contemporary art - and when we do it’s hidden away. Not given the agency for what it was made for in the first place. Very interesting) These hospital art interventions I am assuming is done through the Art-Studio - which is open for patients. Like art therapy, but the images on the leaflet make it look like a proper university art class. I hope it really is.

But it feels light and contemporary and more tasteful than what I normally see (what I normally see s something like a primary school work display).

What I do notice though, is that there’s a lot of silhouettes. Drawn people on the wallpaper, drawn profiles on tracing paper that hangs alone in the lobby, outline drawn tracings of people onto the window. It adds an energy but it’s an interesting thing to focus on.  

Given one of the issues with a major life-threatening illness, such as cancer, and how the treatment and the healthcare institution often make our identities feel transient and lost and/or stripped. Here we have a reminder, like ghosts, that people where here.  Maybe that’s a dark reading, perhaps they serve as reminders of people hanging in there - making sure that we can hack the system, and its environment by literally making it more person focused.

Jane shows us from the lobby which is a good few floors above other floors below and tells us how different areas are part of different hospitals and she needs 3 different patient numbers to enter 3 different places within the same building.  That separation is incredible to think about. Ownership, and responsibility. It goes to show too, that even though having a beautiful space with areas of ownership, and agency, DOES make a difference to your experience of care - it’s just so important to get the basics nailed too. 3 separate numbers for the same building is asking for a mistake to be made. And as we go to split up for the evening, Jane says how she did not like the idea of coming to this centre for her treatment. But as she went through her care, she grew to love the building and it’s people and community. That this place is also a part of her.

Such an incredible experience and observation, that the space moves her to continue to be a part of it  and is now on the board to help with maintaining and enhancing the vision and care. And of course, Jane has a lot of cool ideas and projects which need to be acted upon.

But even if we didn’t read any research on the positive effects of design / art in hospitals and recovery - just hearing how Jane felt through these spaces spoke volumes.

What is really interesting to take forward too, is that we have focused on design within architectural and spatial context. How the environment can generate this feeling of being cared for, being part of something. Maggies Centres are a great example of this. Lifehouse is a great example of hospital meets a Maggie’s centre vibe - meeting half way point between clinical and personable. Clinical and thoughtful. Business meets family/friends.

However, we look across the board to any institutions patient information - very few spend the same amount of time and understanding of design and experience through aesthetics to this area. Despite it being fundamental to consenting, understanding and experience and control.   All forms of caring, institutional as well as personal, require that attention be paid to purpose, power, and particularity. Identifying these three as the critical elements for assessing practices of care grows out of any understanding that takes care as a relational practice. As we think about institutional settings for care, we rarely invoke similar language about purposefulness or about power and particularity. And it is here where I am the most interested and why all of this exists in different forms, in different places, or in some areas not at all. And that dark-matter really interests me.