#and we all have to relearn some stuff so that we’re doing the same moves the same way

[missmouse25]

Just Personal complaining in the tags

[valeriehalla]

I don’t know what to do about the internet. It’s getting worse, and getting worse faster than I think any of us ever could have imagined even just six years ago. Tumblr shot itself in the heart at the behest of Apple, at the behest of whichever nameless evangelical finance perverts are in charge of credit card policy, whereupon people like me (artists and people who like art) fled in droves to Twitter, the present state of which I don’t have it in me to be funny about.

Even after that one-two punch, Twitter and Tumblr are still the only (major) social media platforms I can stand to use. I mean, they’re the last ones left where you can, for example, see posts that your friends have made. I might have said that that seemed like the whole point of social media; every digital elsewhere has now collectively agreed that it is, in fact, social media’s greatest flaw. Your friends like to hang out and post weird jokes and titty drawings — they don’t know the first thing about your favorite marketing trends, let alone your unslakable thirst for 30-second phone videos. We have to move on: I’ll die if I think about it.

Uh — I wanna let you in a little. Here’s where I’m at, okay? I’m working on this project. I like it a lot: it’s a writing thing and an art thing and a music thing all at the same time. I’m still struggling with art burnout, but every day I get to sit down and write or compose for this thing is an unending delight, so on the balance it’s been great to work on. It’s taken me a while to get here, though — I’ve blown past all my estimates about when it’d be done. Still, it won’t be much longer.

In the mean time, I keep having these compulsive worries. I feel that I should be posting, but the nature of a long-form project like this is that I don’t have anything to post. I tweet complete nothings now and then, as if to announce my presence, like a lighthouse pulsing in the distance. And every week the websites get worse. They’re bleeding out, and it feels like some of my blood’s in there, maybe. Like, maybe you’d call me naïve, but it wasn’t that long ago that I really, really liked all this online stuff. I never had the hustle culture mindset about it: by good luck alone I managed to make a living posting the stuff I wanted to post on the places I wanted to post it.

The places I liked to post don’t exist anymore. My experience of using the internet feels hostile, alien. The ground beneath all our feet feels eggshell-thin.

But I have to use the internet: it’s where my stuff goes. It’s where all of you are. Here is where art and artists and art-likers live.

The things I love live here, in precarity, as the saw blades and lava traps of our digital dungeon grow every day more numerous.

Anyway, what I’m saying is that the web sucks now, but as long as we’re here — and we will be here — I want to try loving it again anyway. I want to untangle myself from all this disappointment and expectation and try simply “vibing” again. I wanna use cohost more: I’ll even crosspost stuff to Tumblr like I keep saying I should. I’m making a cool thing and I should show it off! I should relearn how to draw a little doodle and post it without feeling like it’s a suboptimal use of my time or whatever!! I want to believe in what joy may find us, though our world be a dumpster.

[fisherrprince]

do you have more thoughts on keyblade fighting that you need to put somewhere, because i have two hands ready to catch Should The Need Arise

anon: hey I heard you mention you’d analysed the combat styles in KH and what you said in the tags was already alluding to really neat stuff, but I for one would love to hear more of what you came up with!! so if you ever wanted to share any of your analysis then the floor is yours

aHAH, MY EXCUSE!!

Okay, so first some words on “standardized wielding styles”. These are styles shared by Terra, Aqua, Vanitas, Riku, and Xehanort and every other scala and daybreak kid. I will make the argument that the red style is the fanciest standard style, while the purple is seen often to make it easier on the little chibi sprites. BUT, I cannot discredit Eraqus, who uses the purple variant in bbs, nor can I discredit half of the Foretellers (Gula and Ava, at least, use this. Invi and Aced use the first type). So, two standard styles. For simplicity, let’s say one for primary offense, one for primary defense. The standard offensive style really wasn’t popular before Scala-era society.

check this difference out, specifically between ava invi and gula:

then between eraqus, hermod, and xehanort, and eraqus and terra.

These two were likely popularized and standardized for education in Scala ad Caelum for their predominant lack of obvious weak spots.

After this, we have unique styles. Those include Sora Kairi and Xion’s (similar to standard defense, but more mobile at the expense of form — Kairi takes after Sora but less confident, she hasn’t been hit that heavily yet), Ven’s (backhand, heavy range and mobility), Roxas’ (modified for two keyblades, but takes after Sora), and Axel’s (taught himself, comfortable with chakrams).

So! Let’s go.

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Standard (offensive)

All styles have sub-variations, of a sense. Different wielders can choose where their keyblade points, and how they hold it exactly, based on what makes them most comfortable. Terra and Aqua point theirs downward, while Vanitas and Riku hold theirs above their head. What is recognizeable to this style is a hand for the sword, and a hand for guarding/blocking/items/magic.

It’s incredibly efficient. With only one hand on the weapon, you not only free up a hand for other things, but increase your range of movement with said weapon. Test it out yourself! The keyblade hand is always your dominant hand, held behind you for increased power when attacking (since you lose a significant amount of it by choosing not to grip with both hands). This style also decreases the speed of the defense you have, but with that increased mobility and swing power, along with a hand free to brace against the keyblade (defense strength up!), it makes up for it. Many people who use this also have strong barrier spells — both a testament to their preference for coverage and an acknowledgement that any directional block will take a little longer and be weaker if they try it with one hand.

The pointy end, though. What difference does it actually make, the height it’s at?

I think it’s half a matter of attack style preference and half intention. Riku, Vanitas, and Xehanort stab quite a bit. Aqua and Terra slice more. Not that they don’t do both, but it’s the first instinct. Aqua and Terra are also likely taught to hold their keyblade neutrally, in a safe position, until someone starts attacking. It’s polite! Eraqus also holds his one-handed, neutrally, until he gets into position. Riku and Vanitas learned to fight assuming everyone was out to fight them. Invi and Aced may like this style because of range (i hc she’s blind and strikes very very quickly, and he’s already very powerful with just the one arm and wants better motion).

and on character specifics: Terra often switches to two-handed, to copy his dad and add extra power to his hits without always sacrificing the empty hand. Vanitas likely was forced to relearn how to fight, as instead of solely being trained to be better at withstanding, he was constantly being made to better his own attacks. The moves Xehanort uses would best be replicated in the same style. Vanitas is wild for holding the massive spiky x-blade like that.

Now, what‘s good on this style does not correlate to what’s bad in the other. The two standard styles simply have different ways of dealing with each con they create or taking advantage of each pro.

(Here’s an interesting side note — Gula uses standard defensive, but in this instance, swaps. One hand… likely to display confidence! Wrong move, but hey. He got cocky. He’s also doing it wrong, and swaps back to two-handed to take Aced’s attack.)

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Standard (defensive)

The main detriment of this style is the lack of ease of long range movement. Hold a wrapping paper tube out in front of you with both hands, then run. It goes to the side, or tucks in to your stomach, right? Dodge. Your legs will get in the way unless you know where to move that sword. It requires, interestingly, a little more discipline. You’d think Aqua would like that, but no, she wants movement and practicality, and she loves magic, and remember that you must take a hand off this style to grab a potion. You’d think young Eraqus wouldn’t, but remember that he’s a fancy royal lad.

The main draw, though, is tankiness, readiness, and power. You don’t need to move as much if nothing dares hit you! Ava and Gula might be attracted to this style because they’re not as physically strong, but want protection in close-quarters fighting. Using this style when your muscles aren’t as big but you still want to Hit Things Good, or when you want to be a boy you can’t knock over with a pail of water (horse stance rules), is probably solid advice.

Traditionally, this is a lot less like fencing, and a lot more like a samurai sword or kendo. Your blade is held in front of you, giving you very easy access to blocks and frontal attack/defense. In losing some twirly spinniness, you gain power and minimize your opponent’s ability to parry and block.

you gotta dodge master Eraqus so mcuh

All styles will swap between one and two hands for different moves. Eraqus, notably, swaps to a stance very similar to Xehanort when channeling a metric ton of magic.

Both of these styles require a degree of upper body/core strength, as does all swordfighting. I would be interested to see someone whose keyblade style relies on leg strength.

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Sora, Xion, and Kairi

please look at the difference between the foretellers’ or eraqus’ two-handed grip and Sora’s. Do this with your shoulders and a top-heavy object.

They’re both in a hard stance, but hon. What are you, a gremlin? Anyways, a traditionally taught master would have… better form, even if it’s harder to learn at first. It’s habitual. Sora nearly crouches, and holds his keyblade back-pointed with two hands, which makes it easier for him to dodge roll, push off his feet quickly, and pull off those spinning combos he loves. It‘s really gonna hurt his muscles, in the future, though, since he’s doing a squat for like…. hours. Pulling on those shoulderblades and neck. Xion, too. Replicas had better have correct muscle dynamics. Kairi is brand new, so… maybe Aqua can teach her how to hold a sword so it doesnt hurt you.

Okay, now look at the grip itself. Held in front versus held to the side-back. They’re really attempting to combine both standard styles subconsciously, giving themselves more attack power while really wanting to keep that hard defensive parry, wanting to prevent all attacks to the front while also wanting mobility. It’s working for them really well, they fight like an anime character, and manage to get the best of both, with a minor sacrifice of length range that they don’t care about. We’re flexible and full of magic, baby! Holding the blade like this makes it pretty easy to let go with one hand without sacrificing that crouched defense position.

Now, Sora, specifically, is very adaptive. He’s had two keyblades, claws, guns, yo-yos, and a giant shield, to name a couple. He retains a bit of that alert crouch no matter where he goes, but Sora knows how he wants to attack and how to balance that with the most effective way to use his current weapon. He’s a smart kid! Sora has the most ridiculous shotlocks, which are also probably due to not always wanting to go standard for it. He also prefers to keep his focus on the enemy, which is evident in his reprisals and lack of very many effective “escape” moves.

Xion is very similar to Sora, but she does have some moves that are all movement. She switches to one handed for strikes a lot — using two for defending, one for smacking. In her data battle I’d swear some of those heavy hits are claymore-like. But anyways, since we’re magic, Xion cares not for the laws of exhaustion, and will ping about as a ball of light everywhere. Short range? Up in your business. Mid-range? In your business with one hand. Long range? Throws a boomerang. Hit her? No you dont. Ball of light. She’s above you and wants to bash your head in. (Vanitas also does this! A lot. It’s an easy way to catch someone off-guard. I’ll argue that the soras are very tough and strong, but not tanky. they want to avoid being hit a lot)

Another interesting note about Kairi. I say “unconfident” not because she doesn’t hit hard, but because her stance is also often tilted back, ready to dodge. It’s two handed, but almost all her moves are one. She does love spinning and throwing the thing! It looks like she’s been taking notes from the wielders she knows. It would be easy to teach her a standard style, I think. See here, she lets go on the strike, and by trying to do both, actually ends up with an advantage (being confusing) and disadvantage (losing both the power of two handed and versatility of one handed).

A counter to Sora and Xion is difficult to pin down. Time? Probably. Lack of heating pads. Something that takes all their attention is about the only way to get a sneak attack in, and then you have to hit hard. A counter to Kairi would be anyone who can knock her off balance. She needs a sturdier stance. .

Roxas

Roxas is interesting. He takes after Sora for the one blade. Wielding two, however, nets him a totally different way of fighting. Roxas’ clavicle muscles n… deltoids and stuff must be Ironclad. Also, two handed means you are very fast and sharp all the time. He has the advantage of standard defense (horse stance), and the advantage of offense (range of one sword, but twice).

Roxas generally attacks in two ways — simultaneous hits, and follow-up hits. Either he hits with both at once, or hits hard with the first one, and adds the second one as a bonus smack. He can attack by hitting in opposite directions with the two, like a drum, but that will be a little awkward and leave him prone to being tangled. That established, the follow-up hit method means he spins a bunch. As do we all.

Roxas gets a little complicated because we are not in the real world. We have magic and turning into light and physics that let you become a circular saw. So, typically, disadvantages would include: being unable to let go of a weapon to grab something or use an item, having just a very big silhouette to attack on, having difficulty with close-range attacks because Oathkeeper and Oblivion are kinda long, and convenience. Roxas gets to dodge #1 (keyblades can be unsummoned) and #4 (keyblades can be unsummoned). Speaking of dodging, he also gets to skirt the difficulty of dodging and rolling with two swords because he turns into a beam of light. But he can’t dodge how difficult it is to use two swords effectively — he needs to concentrate on fighting, and nothing else, or he risks messing up. He has to be very, very coordinated, and undistracted. Luckily he’s pretty good at making his opponents shut up, most of the time. Blocking is another thing — theoretically his blocks could be strong, but Roxas has no real brace: crossing your blades and taking a hefty stab might smack one of them back into your face. He mostly uses reversals and dodges, because of this.

The takeaway to this is Roxas is built for speed and power, and he is very strong. He’s a mid- to far- range fighter who if you’re not careful can snap you in half if you’re too close (be SO careful of that cross blade scissor).

A perfect counter to Roxas would be a tank that can grapple, and also be very distracting. If you can take hits, be talkative, and get close enough to stop his blades, you have a chance.

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Ventus

This is a bizarre choice, my guy, but I get it.

Backhanded weapons are very impractical for a lot of... attacking, mainly in mid-range combat, and Ven likes to either fight very close or throw the keyblade like a boomerang (and hey, backhand gives it a good whip for throwing). His attacks aren’t meant to one hit KO, but they do come with a bit of power to them, especially on the backslash. Like holding a knife for gouging. It’s for very close defense — pretty good when Wayward Wind and Missing Ache have hooks.

Backhand also, while retaining that empty hand for potions and guarding, gives you an extreme coverage boost. By which I mean Ven’s sword hand now has a nearly 270 degree sweep of “I see you, don’t touch me”, very quickly, based on just flicking his wrist. It sacrifices a ton of strength/sturdiness, but you don’t need that if you’re dodging. You also don’t really need to block, which is slower, but relatively sturdy when Ven does it, as he blocks with mostly the chunky hilt between crossed arms. He sacrifices (again) a bit of strength for coverage — an attack would hurt his arms, not his chest, if he were hit head-on.

His attacks often have him flip the blade around in his hand, too. Quick swaps between standard moves and backhand ones. Basically, Ventus is built for moving, protecting himself, and quick attacks that wear down the enemy, not outclass it. Likely because he’s good at fighting, but everyone he’s fought hits harder than he can! It doesn’t matter how he holds it, getting hit will hurt. So he just. Doesn’t. He’s not a buff little guy — but he is a persistent one. Ven very likely made this up on his own, in Daybreak, and it was too hard to fix his whole style, but it was enough to correct most of his form so he doesn’t hurt himself too much. He is going to have to really stretch that shoulder and wrist (maybe get a brace), though. At least his neck is ok. … not sure about his knees tho dang boy that crouch

A perfect counter to Ven would be someone big and fast, who hits hard mid-range. He’s already been sparring with Terra, though, so when in doubt, try scruffing him?

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Axel

Theres not a ton to say about him — he‘s not a swordfighter. He uses his keyblade like it’s a frisbee. Because that’s what he’s used to! His neutral is behind his back on his shoulder, which is terrible for readiness, but okay for chucking the thing. It’s good it has a sort of… ripstik like… boomerang quality.

Axel’s fighting style is completely made up, like most of the self-taught wielders’. His strengths lie in some of the benefits of standard offensive style (one-handed), and some of the same coverage stuff as Ven, having a cocked wrist most of the time so no one can sneak up around him without risking getting whacked very quickly, and having an interesting range due to the pointy end being basically on a spinny swivel wherever his hand moves. He’s not going to be good at close-range and he knows it — his attacks are mostly distance. And the guy has ZERO defense, combined with zero coverage when idle, so it’s for the better.

Distance-wise, though, he rocks. Treating the blade like it’s a flaming throwing weapon means his idle is actually great for sudden flick-tossing and attention-guiding for sneakier attacks, and his stance itself (…nonexistent) serves a different purpose: bait. Basically a big "come hit me". Fun, when you have a lot of fire magic and two friends who are beasts and love to take advantage of a distracted enemy — distance on the blade, proximity on the burning.

A perfect counter to Axel would be someone pinging around very close <—> very far and circling him incessantly. Like, data Xion could wreck him, as he has to wait for the boomerang to come back -- he no longer has two spinny wheels. Also someone with water magic.

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SO! In conclusion! Having a teacher who teaches you correct sword usage rather than instinct may detract from overspecific styles that benefit you most but leave weak spots, but your muscles and your oversights will thank you. Everyone is glad we have the power of the Mouse and anime on our side.

Keep in mind again that I have done cursory research, and have had minimal actual sword instruction, I am not an expert and this is all for fun anyways :]

[1ddiscourseoftheday]

Mon 7 June ‘21

Liam’s podcast with Steve Bartlett is out and while I still don’t care about that guy I’ll give him this-- he does great at getting out of the way and letting Liam talk. And boy does Liam talk! Liam says A LOT and let’s all just pause to send him some big hugs before we get into right? And then look to the future- Liam’s routine is to say ‘things have been terrible but it’s fine, it’s fine NOW’, always, even when that is absolutely obviously not true, and today is no different but for once I actually believe some of his hopeful bits too which is so great! I hope things really are shifting for him and I can’t wait to hear this new song of his. But there’s a lot that’s hard to hear too, oh Liam. He said that he and Maya have broken up (so yes, presumably why he just moved again such a short time after they moved into their haunted house), talked about his struggles with his alcoholism (and said he’s been sober for a month right now, go babe!), shared the usual distressing stories about his time in the band and what that was like for him (and how it still impacts him), and he talked about his new song and how it feels different for him than his past solo music. Truly though there is SO MUCH more than I can get into here or then you can get from the UA highlights- I HIGHLY recommend actually watching at least parts of the video, also because the attempt to summarize so much erases all the charm and humor, of which there is much. If you don’t think you want to watch Liam’s interviews, it has to be because you aren’t watching Liam’s interviews, they’re delightful! Plus really if you care about 1D and want information about what it was like for any of them, listen to Liam, he’s the one who’s out there talking about it.

About Maya he said, that yes, he is now single, and “I’ve just been not been very good at relationships,” and “I’m a proper perfectionist… at the start of the relationship you put out this complete false character like I might as well go in in costume, I’m like putting out something that is not there... kind of like encompassing someone else’s life with your crap rather than just doing your thing and laying out your store from day one. That’s my biggest problem is that I feel like I don’t lay out my store... and then I’m annoyed when they don’t like what I like,” and “I think my problem is I struggle to be on my own sometimes... I dive in and out of relationships too quickly. I’ve not spent enough time on my own to relearn about myself.”

He laughs about his tendency to ask his manager things during interviews; “My fans think that Steve is doing something to me, they’re like liberty for Liam because he always looks to Steve, but that’s because I like him. It’s not because he’s harming me as a person. There’s like a hashtag Liberty for Liam because they think I’m some like prison child,” and he also said “my manager’s my best friend,” (and he’s said in the past he is a big support for him) and mentioned stuff they’d talked about recently around his therapeutic awakenings.

He talked about therapy being something you have to want to do and be ready to do rather than being pushed into, like getting sober, and says that this time around with his own therapy work he’s really felt that and thrown himself into it and he talked a lot about his relationship to therapy in connection with band days. “I mean one of our old managers went to therapy from being a manager of One Direction. So if you can imagine how that feels like the rest of us definitely need some.”

“We were young,” he said, “What I found was I didn’t know I was the boss until like a few months ago, I still don’t even feel like I am now, like I’m such a child. And everyone I work with now is older than me and wiser than me and I’m like what the hell am I doing here with these people. When we were 17 I thought the security guard was like in charge of me so I was like Can we leave the room? No? Oh ok then,” and “when we were in the band, the best way to secure us was just lock us in our rooms. And of course what’s in the room? Minibar. So at a certain point, I thought Well I’m gonna have a party for one and that just seemed to carry on throughout many years of my life... You know I spoke to somebody about this in child development as a teen, the one thing you need is freedom to make choices. That we could do anything we wanted it seemed from the outside but we were always locked in a room at night and then it would be car, hotel room, stage, sing, locked. So it’s like they pulled the dust cloth off, let us out for a minute, but then it’s back underneath again,” and “the day the band ended I was like thank the lord for that. And I know a lot of people are going to be mad with me for saying that, but I needed it to stop. It would kill me.” Anyway, he said, because it wouldn’t be Liam without an upbeat coda, “I don’t want any of this to get lost in translation. I’m not 100% moaning about my life... it’s had its ups and its downs, but I would rather talk about it and it’s therapeutic for me.”

And what about that exciting new song? Liam said, “We have a really cool song in the pipeline... one of the first ones I’ve actually written myself- with some other people, I didn’t write it by myself, but it’s the first one I’ve really liked. And I think I got so used used carting around other peoples songs and not embedding myself creatively in what I do because I was so scared to find out who I was,” and “I don’t really know how I would tour again. I really want to” [on discord today he said he would be touring next year] “I always said throughout my solo career I’d let my song book speak to me. And I don’t think my song book spoke to me to get off my ass. I only became a solo artist because I had Strip That Down. I wasn’t gonna do it, I was gonna leave it alone. I was like, I survived it once thank you very much- but I’m back in now. Because the song, I knew it was right. It felt right with that song, I hadn’t had that. This year, the song we have I feel really really great about. So I’d rather let the music do the talking than me come out and force it. We don’t need any more useless music in the world, it needs to mean something,” and he mentioned the new song on the discord a lot too, most notably picking out a long comment that thanked him for making the fan feel supported and safe and for “putting your heart in everything you do” and for his support of the LGBTQ community to respond to with, “I think you will really like the new song.”

A few other random bits, he said that he thinks there should be a system to make therapy available to musicians in the industry, “I think I’m definitely gonna get a dog because I need routine,” and “I recently started jujitsu,” yeah you and everyone else huh, so do him and Louis and Oli go to the same gym or ???, and he acknowledged that as an addict he may have just transferred that to working out “but there’s a lot worse things to be addicted to then looking after yourself” hmm but he does seem to say that he’s doing better around body image stuff; he talks about having put on weight during lockdown and seeing himself in the BAFTAS performance- “I saw myself... and I was like ‘oh my god I’ve completely let myself go in this’. And it was fine...I feel so much more secure in myself now.” Oh and that he’s written a comedic movie script “based around AA” and his experiences there, such as how “I had a really weird AA experience the first time that I went. My first experience was with Russell Brand.” LMAO yes! Cannot wait, bring on auteur Liam please! Anyway as if ALL THAT wasn’t enough he’s also dove into the lead up to his NFT release; he said “I'm almost ready to share my NFTs with you guys... Who wants to see them?” and posted a tiny preview that tells us its (their?) title for the first time- Lonely Bug.

Niall and Anne Marie perform on Jimmy Fallon tonight, and the hype is already a go! I guess it’s prerecorded, as we’re already seeing pictures from it; they’re singing to each other with the cute car from the video in the background. Niall signed on to a letter to Boris Johnson asking for changes to music streaming revenue rules and signed by 232 artists (including all the artists Johnson recently named as his favorites, haha). Zayn signed on to a Billboard petition to the US senate calling for gun safety laws. The bar Zayn got into the fight in front of posted “Zayn's a regular at Amsterdam Billiards and he is a true gentleman. On Thursday night he was confronted by an inebriated passer-by outside on the street and was called a homophobic slur. We support Zayn & condemn homophobia in the strongest terms!” And also PS omg again because it just isn’t going away: Harry’s beauty company is called Pleased As, his name is Harry Edward Styles so yes when listed last name first, as legal documents do, it spells SHE but it is not a “feminist abbreviation” (WHAT? even??) nor the name of the business.

[corpsentry]

january: an art retrospective

i did some stuff last month (but it’s a lot of stuff and there’s a photodump + some Serious Fucking Reflection, so it’s all below the cut)

so ok, let’s start with this. here are some heads. each head has a red arrow. that red arrow is what i call the red line of the devil. it’s the slope of the face from the side of the eye to the cheekbone and then down towards the chin. up until like 2 weeks ago, i couldn’t draw it. i couldn’t fucking draw it. i would edit over that part of the face over and over again until i was frustrated and tired and i had a raging homosexual headache and it still never looked right. notice that each head is different. notice that each head looks wrong.

at the start of 2021 i finally admitted to myself, as per the image above, that i was deeply, deeply unhappy with my art. what was the problem? i dunno. but i decided i was going to fix it and i was going to do so via another one scribble a day event wherein for every day of january i would find a photo of a human head, and i would draw it.

january 1st, 2021. i was embarrassed to tweet this even on my private account where like 5 friends and a rock would see it. in retrospect, you can also see all of my bad habits emerging like dicks from a hole in the ground. it’s disproportionate. the brows look flat. the eyes are slanting upwards. the entire drawing looks flat, like this isn’t a 3d person but a caricature of one.

january 2nd, 3rd, 4th:

on the 2nd i decided to start a separate thread for doodles and applied learning. here’s the first set of tests

the rest of the week is kind of uneventful so we’re going to skip those. fast forward to january 11th

this one is especially bad. i am acutely aware, suddenly, that i am not changing anything at all. i’m stressed and miserable about it because i’m still trying to see people as people and trying to draw people that look attractive and proportionate and hot. my friend, leny, reminds me that i need to think about faces in terms of planes. i have a moment. my other friend masha sends me some links to anatomy tutorials. i have another moment.

january 11th. applied sketch

january 13th is when i start the troubleshooting process. the link above drives me mad because i’m pretty happy with the face but then i realize that there’s something very fucking wrong with the shape of the head LOL and then i realize that i’ve never had any idea what the proportion of the face to the rest of the skull is so i grit my teeth and i open a new canvas and i

bald studies. it seemed like the right thing to do. can’t draw heads? ok draw some heads. look at some photographs. i traced each photo but tried to stick to straight lines so that i could replicate the shapes more easily. i broke each face down into shapes. i thought about airplanes

i got really excited. i started doing studies, then applied studies, then stylized studies.

sketches. i’m not sure what’s going on (as always) and it’s very rough, but they look different from the sketches i did on january 2nd. that’s a start

january 16th’s daily study. looks more like a person now. juuuuuust a bit

more applied studies

on the 18th i take a break and go stare at some lips because i don’t understand how the fuck they work. again, i focus on shapes, on volume, on the fact that these things exist in 3d. holy fuck lips exist in 3d. holy fuck we are real

january 19th. i’m working on it.

january 22nd. some sketches + a daily study. it has finally occurred to me that heads can tilt up and down and that things look different accordingly. yes i was not aware of this before. yes i have been drawing for over a decade.

january 23rd. by this point after doing my daily sketch i almost always go back and do an applied study which is basically to say i drew a lot of fucking links. this one looks kind of okay. i’m kind of proud

january 25th. links. trying to make sense of everything i’ve learned

26th, 27th, 28th. daily studies

january 1st. january 31st

The End Of The Photo Dump (dab)

ok NOW i get to talk about what i discovered while studying the shit out of human beings

FIRST OF ALL, there is something precious and magical about drawing shit without the explicit knowledge that you’re going to tweet that shit out to 45 people later. it takes the burden of perception off your shoulders and that does something to you, or at least that’s my theory. i told myself i wouldn’t post any of this stuff until the end of the month (if i wanted to post it at all) and kept everything off my public social media accounts and that meant i could draw ugly as hell without worrying about who would point and laugh, which i absolutely fucking did. a lot of these are fucking trainwrecks. most of these are fucking trainwrecks. why do they look like that?? why??? this doesn’t look like the work of someone who’s allegedly been drawing since they were in kindergarten, does it?????

here’s why: because that person took a huge motherfucking swing at everything they’d ever known about art and spent a month building something new in its place. the abstract explanation is that i grew up on shoujo and weird old anime and my understanding of anatomy was unironically kamichama karin and while i love kamichama karin, when kamichama karin is your rule even if you try to break it, you’re going to end up going nowhere. “you have to know the rules to break them”, yeah? well i didn’t know shit. the abstract explanation is i’ve been miserable about my art for a few years now because i saw other people doing things effortlessly which i couldn’t and instead of going back to the basics, i tried to do what they did (not plagiarism, mind you, i mean i literally tried to copy the red line of the devil i mentioned above because i couldn’t even make that happen) and then i fucking failed.

the simple explanation is this. i had to unlearn everything, and relearn it again (like some kind of new renaissance clown, what the fuck is this?)

take this for example. all my life i’ve drawn faces in the order: eyes, nose, mouth, face shape, head. this works for some people, im aware, but it was something central to how i had always drawn, so i decentralized it. i said fuck you to the old me and changed the order up. now i start with the nose, then the eyes, mouth, the chin line, and the sides of the face. now i force myself to think about the human head as a series of parts interacting with each other instead of a bunch of disparate features which i want to look pretty.

or let’s use this zelda from last year. something about this looked wrong last october, the way something about all of my drawings looked wrong, but i couldn’t pinpoint it for hell the way i couldn’t articulate Any of my feelings about the visual arts. now, looking back, here’s what i see. that nose is sticking out far too much given how she’s not really facing very far away from the camera. that ear at the back shouldn’t be there. her forehead is too big. she doesn’t have a forehead. what the fuck is up with the shape of her head?

so apparently reject modernity embrace tradition has its roots in alt-right terminology and i’m not very horny for the alt-right (you understand), but the spirit survives here. you know sometimes you have to admit that you have no idea what the fuck you’re doing and draw people for 31 days. i’ve spent my whole life drawing stylized people and while again there are artists who have no issue with this, i veered off the track of the Good and the Holy and couldn’t get back on. i had no point of reference because i’d never thought about what an actual human being looks like, so i had no way to fix what i knew in my gut looked wrong but wouldn’t come out better.

this was hard. this was like oikawa tooru swallowing his worthless pride and admitting that ushijima wakatoshi had gotten the best of him for the last time in his high school career, but in haikyuu!! by furudate haruichi oikawa tooru fucks off to argentina and then joins the argentinean national team, and you know what, i think i’ve made it to argentina (not the team just the country). as per the golden rule of dont fucking move until you’re at least two thirds of the way through the month, i only started trying to draw Shit shit on like the 22nd or something, but i was happy with that i created. i am happy with what i’ve done. i’ve posted like 2 things this month that involve people with what i now call ~applied Knowledge~~ and they’re, like, not perfect obviously (perfection is an unattainable ideal), but i’m fucking proud of them. i didn’t spend 5 hours hunched over my laptop adjusting the red line of the devil because it’s not a devil’s line anymore. because i finally sorta get how people work. because i sat down and i said ‘we are not going to fuck with this misery shit anymore’ and then i did that. it’s just a line now.

here are 2 collages tracking my painstakingly carved out progress from january 2nd to february 2nd because i’m a slut for collages

and here’s what i’ve done to my art! the same person drew these but also Not Really! you know! for the first time in a year i don’t immediately hate what i’ve drawn. you know what guys? art is fucking fun. zelda’s forehead doesn’t scare me anymore because i know how foreheads fucking work now, and i don’t know everything, and i’m going to keep troubleshooting stuff as i go (i want to draw a skeleton. like a. i want to draw a goddamn skeleton guys) but i’m honestly and genuinely proud of what i’ve done in the span of a month, and i’m also in disbelief. i started this month-long challenge out as a last ditch effort to make peace with my art because i’ve been tired for a long time and i was ready to kick the bucket on drawing people altogether. i didn’t think anything would happen. nothing’s happened for years. i’ve been miserable for years.

this was the caption for january 1st, 2021. i was super, super fucking embarrassed and it looks like super fucking shit, but you know what, i think i did in fact triumph over the bullshit. surprisingly enough, when you put in consistent effort into something, You Will See Results. didn’t see that coming, did you? i know i didn’t.

this isn’t a success story. it’s a happiness story. i never gave a shit damn about the institute of art or whatever, i was just mad at myself because what i saw in my head didn’t match up with what was on the canvas. and now it’s getting better. now i’m calibrating the compass. now drawing not just backgrounds but also people is exciting to me, and i can stick my links in your face and tell you ‘they hot’. i’m going to keep doing that. i’m going to keep going until i drop off the side of the earth and then spiral towards mars like some kind of fairy, and then i’m going to create something beautiful.

thanks for reading. here’s a pr department link for sticking around until the end

[weltenwellen]

Okay, so this will probably be long and messy sorry. Also, I don’t really know if you will answer this or truly what I want you to answer but I like the responses you give others so I guess I wanted to send this. (Heads up this is probably over sharing and has tramatic stuff like sexual harassment/assault maybe?) Anyways, so I’m 21 and when I was 14 my brother (17 at the time) would come in my room and mess with me while I was sleeping. I have spent years living with him still and for the most part we are normal (or as close to it as we can be) but I struggle with how I really feel about him and what happened. Like I feel like I have no right to be uncomfortable or hurt by what happened because it was only like a month that it was happening before I told someone and also I was sleeping and only know what happened vaguely since I was half asleep. It could have been so much worse. I don’t even know if I can say I was sexually harnessed or assaulted and maybe that shouldn’t matter but it does to me and it scares me not knowing what really happened before I would wake up. I also feel like I was forced to just be okay with it and act like it never happened to make everything less awkward or something so I can’t tell what my real feelings about it are? We moved a little after it all and I was forced by my parents to be homeschooled from 14-18 and so I was by myself that whole time and only had my family which really made the situation more suffocating. (Also, I’m now too scared to leave the house which means that I still take college classes online) He is still living in the same house with me and I get awkward/nervous talking to him but also I don’t think I hate him even though I feel like I should? I just want to feel like I have a right to be and feel the way I am now? Idk, what I’m really saying or asking from all this but it’s here and I just really needed to get this out. I’m so sorry for sharing this with you and I hope it didn’t do anything to you to read.

I am very cautious when it comes to answering messages about sexual assault/harassment/abuse & i don’t feel like it’s particularly to protect my own mental health, but there is a delicate and thoughtful approach needed and i do not want in any possible way, no matter how small, make someone feel misunderstood or hurt by my response & that’s what i fear will happen since i am not an expert on the subject of trauma on this particular subject, especially when it comes to childhood sexual trauma. that said, i have some thoughts on what you wrote me and I hope my approach to my answer to you makes sense.

from what and how you write me, you seem to struggle to define what happened as sexual assault or harassment and due to it’s severity and time period of when it took place, you do not think your feelings and changes of behaviour is warranted and valid. so let’s approach it not through what took place itself but let’s look at how it impacted you, how it made you feel and change and in the specific environment it happened and in which you are still living in. hopefully when i can outline the impact of what took place, you can see that sexual assault and sexual harassment does not need a certain degree in the initial trauma to count only then as a violence of your personal space and invasion of your body and only then to say that what you’ve felt and currently feeling valid.

first of all, let’s look at the fundamental sense of safety in your own home. you’ve experience a violation to the feeling of safety not only in your own home, but furthermore while you are sleeping and a complete space of being defenceless and not alert to danger. what took place violated your ability to trust through a family member and after what happened furthermore by your parents forcing you to be homeschooled and cutting off or minimising the possibility to establish new relationships to relearn and regain your ability to trust and feel safe in the presence of others. the isolation after what took place, created an environment which did not only not help you to deal with what took place but additionally and especially (!!!) you are still living with the person who violated your sacred personal space and breached your most fundamental boundaries in your own home. so second thing to look at, would be then and now that feeling of constant alertness, a development of a feeling of helplessness and loss of control. even if it looks on paper that what took place is years away, especially since you are still living under one roof with your brother those feelings are to some degree still there every single day? while their intensity might vary on a daily basis or from month to month, their intensity might still be there in the same intensity they have been when you were 14. so when you say you are forced into silence, you were also forced into the position to bury something that needed to be voiced and for you to be put into words for that 14 year old girl that is still somewhere there inside and in order to heal. 

thirdly, let’s look at your family environment. from how you write, i am not sure how much your family knows about what happened but what i can say is that the silence over what happened is fatal to foster any kind of healing for you and as you said, it’s suffocating to you. in combination with the fact that you are still living with your brother, that creates an environment which you should seek physical space from. and as a fourth point, when you say you don’t hate your brother, i would say that is okay. whatever you are feeling is okay. i can imagine that you might even feel shame not only about what happened but also that you feel like you don’t hate him or that you do hate him at times or that your feelings might not match in your eyes with what took place. whatever you are feeling, whatever changed in your feelings over time or whatever feelings persisted, it’s okay. those feelings are not only valid but they’re also important and deserving to be felt and for someone outside of your family to be listened to. when you're looking at the relationship to your brother you are holding and dealing with highly contrary emotions of a love for your brother and a fear of him and even possibly a disgust due to what happened. all these feeling got and still are jumbled together and pull you in all kinds of directions.

so when we’re looking at your sense of safety, your current environment, the isolation afterwards, the delicate age it took place, i hope i was able to show you even just a tiny bit that whatever you are feeling is completely valid & furthermore, that the severity or limited amount of time of the trauma, does not make your reaction and feelings any less significant. there is not one way you should feel when it comes to what happened, when it comes to how you feel about your brother and how you should feel now. i do not think you have had a person in your life since you were 14 in whose presence you were able to give words to what happened and in consequence were able to gain some distance to all you felt then and all you feel now. keeping trauma for so long inside you chest, has a way of letting you implode, sometimes in small ways and sometimes in gigantic tidal waves. 

when you say ‘I just want to feel like I have a right to be and feel the way I am now?’, i think you need to establish an environment outside your family with relationships in which you can (re)establish a sense of safety and learn to fully trust other people (again). also if possible, I would advice you to seek professional help. emotions need to be spoken not for the simple reason to let them pass/go, but also before to untangle that giant mess inside our chest and examine them properly in the light. I hope you could follow my train of thought and it was all halfway logical. from the bottom of my heart, all the best darling. i am sending you all my love, I hope you can feel that a little bit wherever you are in the world ❤️

[messengerhermes]

Let's talk home maintenance. Let's talk about home maintenance when the home is you. Content Warnings: This post is about building coping skills in the face of depression and PTSD, and other mental health challenges, it will allude to suicidal ideation and suicidality. So here's the thing. You are your house. Your body, your mind, all of you, is the home you live in. Some of the shit in your house is stuff you inherited, some of it's been gifted to you, some of it's found it's way in there over time, but all of it informs the general ambience of your home. Likewise, the rooms, the layout, the color of the walls, where your floorboards creak, and how the pipes whistle and hum when you run the hot water are all shaped by the experiences you've had from when you were first spat out into the world. Hell, they're shaped by the experiences of those who raised you in this world to. Having a home can be an incredible experience. But it can also, sometimes, be hell, be boring, be painful, be overwhelming. Especially because throughout our lives, our homes will change. New rooms will spring into existence, old ones may jam themselves shut. A cupboard you've never been able to get open will suddenly bang it's doors wide in the middle of the night. All the knick knacks well meaning relatives have given you over the years will break through the attic floor raining a clashing decor nightmare into your living room. The poltergeist you've managed to ignore for ten years will suddenly start rattling every tchotchke you've got, screaming loud enough to break glass whenever you have guests, and rearranging the contents off all your drawers. A hurricane will blow through and break all your windows, or a deep freeze will burst your pipes and flood the place. And when the home is you, you can't just sell it and buy a new one. There are periods in our life where our home may feel smothering, or frighteningly alien to us, or broken beyond repair, or any myriad of things that can warp the way we experience it. We can begin making our own ghosts, tearing at the floorboards and ripping up the plaster. We can stop believing that anyone would want to visit this place. Stop. Breathe. Here's a secret that is not a secret: No matter how often someone comes over to our house, they will never match the amount of time we spend there. Yes, even the people who we've decided to share gardens with, who we've built connecting walkways with. Even when you are absolutely sick of your house because it is always there with it's drippy pipes and groaning furnace and the wallpaper you loved five years ago but now it makes you nauseas to look at, other people are not going to feel that visceral exhaustion about your house, because they only ever visit. And the truth is, sometimes they are as deeply sick of their own houses as you are of yours, and sometimes, going to visit each other can help ease that frustration, that loneliness, and exhaustion. Even if neither of you does a damn thing to work on your houses in that moment. Sitting together, letting each other witness the ways your houses groan and rock in the wind, the faded places, the half finished renovations, is enough. Alright, now that this post has gone on for ages, I want to talk about home maintenance, or "What to do if you're getting sick of your house." This is not complete, or perfect, but hopefully it helps. 1. Sort through everything. Create an inventory of all the features and traits in your home, all the things it can do. Marie Kondo that shit. Decide what you're keeping, what you're tossing, and what to pass on to someone else. Thank the things you're letting go of, they came into your house because at some point you needed them, and it's okay to be different now. If you're struggling to find anything you like, or anything worth keeping, invite others into the process. Ask them to make lists of shit they like about you, things they notice as strengths, traits that come to mind when they think of you, or positive memories. Actually sit with those answers, don't dismiss

them. Figure out which parts feel good and which parts feel like you're playing a role that doesn't suit you anymore. Sort accordingly. Keep the list of all the things you're keeping somewhere you can review it often. Add to it as new things occur to you or people in your life pay you compliments.

2. Identify places for updates. Now that you're offloading some shit and know what you want to keep, think about what things you want updated. Maybe you want to change that aforementioned wallpaper. Maybe the boiler needs fixing. Maybe you want to call someone in to see about that poltergeist. Maybe you want a new kitchen. Break down the places you want change to happen into smaller components, and if possible, figure out how much time they might each take. You're not gonna rip out your entire kitchen all at once and get it done in a month, that's shit for real houses, not metaphor houses. But maybe you can tile a new backsplash, and then refinish your cabinets. Maybe you can get a new fridge.

3. Break things Up. Break those updates up into categories based on how much time and energy they'll take you. Something like "Quick Fixes" for updates that are just swapping things out (say, a new haircut, changes in wardrobe, different accessories, rearranging the furniture in your actual meatspace living space), "Short Term Projects" (like finding a new job, picking up a new hobby, reconnecting with folks, finding a therapist or support group--things that may require more energy than the quick fixes, but can be done over the span of a few months), and "Long Term Projects" (things like, going to therapy or joining a support group, addressing a deeper trauma or hard thing via talking with friends, reading on the subject and shifting behavior patterns, et al, this list is made up of stuff that can take years). For the long term projects, see if you can break them down into items that fit into the shorter lists (for example, if a long term project for you is Transition maybe that can be broken up into smaller components of changing your hair/clothes/pronouns, talking with close friends, accessing support groups, going to social events, identifying what you want for your transition, accessing healthcare if you're interested in medical transition). 4. Pace Yourself. Now that you've broken up your lists, figure out the pacing that works for you. Maybe you can do five quick fixes in a week and that will be a huge help. Maybe you can do a quick fix here and there and cycle between a couple of the short term projects. Maybe two of your long term projects overlap in some of their components and it makes them easier to tackle. Figure out what is doable for you, but also check in with yourself. Maybe you'll have a very "go go go" six months where you blast through a big chunk of short term projects, or feel like you make huge headway on a long-term project but then you hit a plateau. Don't try and force yourself to keep that pace, let yourself move where you're at. 5. Tell People About Your Housework. I know, vulnerability. Awful, disgusting, terrifying. Too bad. Do it anyway. Okay, let me be kinder here: When you tell people that your home is not perfect, that you have to do work on things, that you want to make changes and are, it give them permission to do the same thing. That's community, that's power, that's care. When you share, be clear about how you're sharing and what you're wanting from them. Are you looking for advice? Are you proud of something and want recognition? Do you need to be hyped up for something hard? Are you looking to share about the rough stuff and have the other person also share their rough stuff and that's how y'all support one another? 6. Call for a Barn Raising. Remember how I said if you can't think of things to keep when you're sorting through your house, call in others? Yeah, keep doing that. Maybe that support looks like just having someone sit with you as you talk through shit. Maybe it looks like getting to go out and blow bubbles in the park or ice skate, or lie in the grass and watch the clouds. Maybe it looks like grocery shopping together, or eating together so you'll actually eat. Maybe it looks like joining a Discord or Reddit with the same interests as you and posting. Our house is our own, but we are not meant to live all alone way up on some hillside, and we're not meant to fix up our homes alone either. Relearn pleasure with others, relearn joy, and curiosity, and grief, and hope and be held in your sadness and hurt. 7. Recognize Your Home is Lovable. Love is an action. Love is joy, is laughter, is pleasure, is tenderness. It is also care and effort. It is not easy to love in deep ways. It takes work, sometimes it means going out of your way, sometimes it means doing things that are tiring. You are not bad or wrong for sometimes requiring effort to love. Needing dedicated attention, having places where you bristle and snarl, having periods where you struggle to hold your home in tenderness and need others to remind you of its wonder is human. Be accountable for the

places your actions have left hurts, change your behavior, accept how relationships shift in the wake of your actions. But do not let the shame monsters in your basement chew away at the floorboards above them til everything falls in that pit. Practice believing you are worthy of love, even in the painful moments where someone you love may no longer love you in turn. Yes, this step is hard as shit. When we lose a person's love, or are struggling to love ourselves, it can be easy to fall into the trap of thinking we are not worthy of anyone's love at all. But we are. It's as simple and profoundly difficult as that.

8. Rest and Feel Good. Literally, do nothing. Lie belly up in the sunshine. Read/listen to a good book, enjoy a show you love. Create emotional playlists and lose yourself in feelings. Paint, draw, sculpt, crochet, cross stitch, play an instrument, do it wonderfully, do it terribly, just do it if it feels good. Shove your hands in the dirt and make homes for tender seedlings, enjoy their journey, mourn when they wither, celebrate when they bloom. Cook things you've never made before, cook things you make all the time. Relish good food. Relish criticizing terrible food. Go to markets and shove your hands in the dry grain barrels, run your palms over fabrics and feel their textures. Smile at pretty strangers you have no intention of talking to and enjoy how the expression feels on your face. Tell people when you like their clothes. Find people to hold, to lie pressed up close in hammocks or scrunched up on the couch together. Kiss if you're the kissing type. Fuck if you're the fucking type. Dance if that moves you. Get your ass slapped if that moves you. Let yourself feel good without guilt, without suffering, without shame. Your pain is not a fee you must pay for pleasure. We are animals and are made for all the sweetness of life. Relish in that. I will stop here, since I have gone on long enough. This list is not a prescription, it is not the One True Answer, nor is it complete. But, if you decided to read all way through it, if you woke up this morning and put your head in your hands in a house that is haunted, is weighted down with strange rooms with inheritances you don't know what to do with, I hope you can move through the clutter and fix your hands on one thing you wish to keep in it all. And then another. And another. I hope you can be the home you dream of, again and again and again.

[flowerfan2]

Part of You Indefinitely - Ch. 6

David x Patrick, 18k so far, M, A03. 

Summary:  An accident sends Patrick to the hospital and terrifies David.  What follows changes their relationship in ways David and Patrick never imagined.  A story of love and its challenges.

Chapter 6

They’re in the car, on their way to physical therapy, when Patrick abruptly turns off the radio.  “I need to tell you something.”

After their too short but still satisfying make-out session earlier this morning David doesn’t think Patrick’s about to ask for a divorce or anything, but it still doesn’t sound good.

“Okay,” he says, glancing over at Patrick, who is looking determinedly out the front window.  “What’s up?”

“I haven’t been going to physical therapy.”

This is patently untrue.  “Um, yes you have, I’ve been driving you there.”

“Yeah, but…” Patrick taps his hand on his knee.  “I haven’t kept the appointments.”

“What, exactly, do you do after I drop you off?”  Patrick has insisted on going inside by himself, and David has been spending the hour systematically trying out every half-decent coffee place in a five-mile radius from the hospital.

“I sit in the cafeteria.”

This is a strange revelation, and David takes a long breath, trying to keep an open mind.   

He slows down and pulls over.  One good thing about living in the sticks, there’s always a place to pull off the road.  He tries to focus on a practical response, while his mind spins.  “Okay, then… there’s not much point to this trip.  It’s certainly not worth going to Elmdale for the coffee.  Should we go home?”

Patrick looks at him.  “You’re not mad?”

David does a quick mental inventory to be sure.  He’s not mad.  He’s confused, and actually a little impressed with Patrick’s out of character refusal to color within the lines, as ridiculous as that is.  “Nope.  Your body, your decision.  Thank you for telling me.”

“Don’t you want to know why?”

David sighs, leaning his head back.  “Of course I do.  I want to know everything.”

“I’m not sure I can really tell you.”

<i>Then why did you ask?</i>  David thinks.  “Mkay.”

Patrick just sighs miserably.

“Ronnie thinks we’re going to break up,” David says, not sure where this comes from – it has been spinning around in his head all morning, but it seems like a non sequitur.

“Because we can’t talk to each other?”  Patrick asks, and yeah, that’s how it fits in.

“Pretty much.”

“Do you think that?”  Patrick asks.  He looks small, and scared, and just as lost as David feels.  

David thinks maybe it’s time to bring up the elephant in the room.  “You know, there’s a thing couples do sometimes, when they’re having…”

“Problems?” Patrick suggests.  

“Challenges.”  

“You think we should go to counseling?”

David has been considering it.  On the one hand, he’s not really interested in sitting on a couch with Patrick while some old white guy picks apart their relationship.  On other hand, he’s really not interested in any universe where he and Patrick no longer sit on the same couch, so giving counseling a try is a risk he’s willing to take.

“Yes.”

Patrick breathes out slowly.  “Okay.  Then take me to PT.  I don’t want to have to tell the counselor that I blew off another physical therapy session.”

*****

David has a feeling that Alexis convinces Dr. Lee to pull some strings, because they get an appointment with a couples’ counselor a few days later.

Margo is young, probably even younger than Patrick, and has several earrings in each ear.  She’s not at all what David expected.  Further, she’s quick and witty, and seems to understand what’s going on with them right from the start.

“Unfortunately, it’s not unusual to go through a period of depression after a trauma,” she says to Patrick, who looks like he’s ready to jump out of his skin.  “Or for situational depression to have a detrimental effect on a relationship, especially where your partner is doing the lion’s share of the caregiving.”  She goes on in this vein for a while until they are both calm enough to hear it, and encourages them to talk to each other after the session about what has been discussed.

But for all that things have been going better between them, they still can’t seem to delve into this stuff outside of Margo’s office.  

At their next session, Margo asks them how their follow-up conversation went.

David tries to stop himself from rolling his eyes, but Margo calls him on it anyway.

“If we had been able to talk about it with each other we wouldn’t be here,” he says, trying to keep his voice light.

“Do you agree, Patrick?”

Patrick’s gaze has been firmly fixed on his hands since they arrived.

“I don’t know if talking about it will help,” he says finally.  “I’m still…”. Patrick waves his hand vaguely at his legs.  “Talking about it won’t change what happened.”

“But would knowing how David is feeling about it, how he’s feeling about you, and sharing your feelings with him, possibly affect your feelings and your mood?”

Patrick glances up at David, who tries to smile at him despite the inner terror he’s feeling.  “I guess.”

David reaches over and grabs Patrick’s hand, trying to figure out the right thing to say.  “I know the situation sucks, but you’re doing better all the time.”  He looks at Margo and then back at Patrick.  It’s awkward as hell, but David’s dealt with awkward before.  “I love you, Patrick.”  

Patrick remains silent.  It makes David feel a little ill, to get no response at all to this.

David turns in towards Patrick, trying to block out his view of Margo.  “Hey,” he whispers.  “What’s going on?  What do you need?”

A tear rolls down Patrick’s cheek, and David just sits there, momentarily paralyzed.  This Patrick is so far away from the Patrick he knows, his confident, competent husband, and it scares him.  David reaches out and puts his arms around Patrick’s shoulders, pressing Patrick’s head against his cheek.  Patrick grabs him and squeezes back, hard, his face against David’s collarbone.  This is good, David thinks, he said he likes it when I hug him.  I can at least do this.  He drops a kiss above Patrick’s ear, right by his scar, and holds on.

“This kind of thing can be hard to articulate,” Margo says.  “Patrick, will you try to think about David’s question?”

Patrick straightens up and nods, wiping his face, and they move on to other topics.  Margo asks David about how they are doing at home, taking the attention off of Patrick for a few minutes.  Patrick chimes in after a while to talk about how he’s figured out how to coordinate with Johnny on the books for the store, doing some of the work himself and showing Johnny how to use his spreadsheets; David doesn’t mention how Patrick curses at the laptop when his hands get tired, or pretends that it’s fine when vendors leave him off their emails to David.

They don’t return to the topic of Patrick’s distress, but Patrick keeps a grip on David’s hand for the rest of the session.  David doesn’t know exactly what’s going on, but at least it seems like Patrick wants him there for it, whatever it might be.

******

“My parents want to come visit,” Patrick announces one night over dinner.  

David finishes his last bite of crab Rangoon.  “When?  I’ll reserve a room at the motel.”

“I didn’t say they were coming,” Patrick answers.

“Okay, that’s fine.”  

Patrick blinks at him.  Apparently he expected an argument.  “You don’t think they should come?”

“Well, they’re your parents.  And god knows I know what it’s like to want a little distance between oneself and one’s parents.”

“My mom keeps emailing me.  She’s worried.  She says she won’t be able to sleep until she sees me in person.”

David stabs his fork into the beef and broccoli.  “You could zoom her.  It might satisfy her for a while.”

Patrick considers this, then picks up his phone and starts typing.  

“Why thank you, David, that’s a great idea,” David says, and Patrick laughs.

******

They’re in the car on their way home after a physical therapy session when Patrick clears his throat and says, “I was afraid it wouldn’t work.”

“Pardon?”

“PT.  It’s supposed to get me back to normal, if it works.  But it might not work, there’s no way to know how much things might improve, or not.  So I didn’t want to go, because if I went and I did what they said and I still couldn’t relearn how to walk, then that’s it, it’s over.  I’m in the chair forever.”

David’s heart stutters in his chest, and he opens his mouth to argue, but Patrick beats him to it.  

“I know that’s not rational, but you deserve to know why I skipped my appointments.  That’s why.”

David is still processing this when he feels his phone buzz repeatedly; Patrick’s does too.

“What’s going on now?”  David wonders, hoping it will be about something less fraught than his husband’s all too understandable fears.

Patrick reads the texts as David focuses on driving.  “Stevie’s stressed because our student intern unpacked a box of lip balms and got them all mixed up.”

David lets out his breath.  This is a problem he can deal with.  “Mixed up with what?”

“With each other.  Apparently there are five or six different kinds listed on the invoice, but they all look the same-”

“Because they’re all-natural and don’t have any artificial coloring.”

“So Stevie can’t tell them apart, and so she can’t label them, and if they aren’t labeled, she can’t sell them.”

“Tell her to sniff them – but don’t take off the cap, then they’ll look used.”

“She says she tried that, but she still can’t tell which is which, and there are hundreds of them.”

David sighs.  “Well that’s clearly an exaggeration, the box holds a gross.”

Patrick types, and then waits for Stevie’s reply.  “She says there are two boxes.”

“Whatever.  I suppose it’s no surprise that she’s hopeless at this.  Tell her I’ll come in tomorrow.  It’s Saturday, we don’t have to go to Elmdale, so I can get to the store early.”

“Maybe I’ll come too.”

It’s all David can do to keep his eyes on the road and not squeal with glee.  He can’t help the smile that tugs at his mouth, though, or chancing a look at Patrick to see that he’s smiling softly too.  Patrick hasn’t been to the store yet since his accident, and here he is volunteering to come in.

“Sure, that’d be nice.  You never know what else Stevie’s messed up that we need to fix.”

The next morning they get up a little earlier than usual, David making sure to get the coffee going before he gets in the shower.  When he comes out, Patrick is in his chair wearing one of his favorite blue button down shirts and his briefs.  His jeans are down around his ankles.

“Don’t laugh,” Patrick says, and David assesses the situation, deciding that this time a joke might not actually lighten the mood.  

“You could wear your sweats,” David says carefully.  “No one would care.”

“This from the man who didn’t want me to wear sneakers to work.”

“I’d like to think we can make an exception to our dress code from time to time.  We can write this one in right after the Stevie Budd flannel shirt amendment.”

Patrick is unconvinced.  He tugs on the waistband of his jeans, but can’t get them up past his knees.  Patrick has gotten much better at moving around, and hardly ever needs David’s help to get from their bed to his chair or vice versa, but this is a task he hasn’t tried yet.  Luckily Patrick doesn’t seem too thrown by the unexpected challenge of putting on his jeans.  “So, are you going to help me or what?”

“Happy to,” David says.  It takes a little wrangling, but between the two of them they have Patrick fully dressed a few minutes later.  David notices that Patrick has chosen not his Levis but a pair of jeans David bought him – designer, but subdued.  They do great things for his ass.  Not that Patrick’s ass is particularly visible from his chair, but still.  David appreciates the effort.

The hair on the side of Patrick’s head is now long enough to cover the red scar over his left ear.  Last week David gave him a trim so that both sides matched.  It would be hard to tell that the left side had ever been shaved, if you didn’t know.  

“You look great, honey,” David says, leaning down to kiss his husband.  “And you smell good, too.  Is that my aftershave?”

“Couldn’t find mine,” Patrick says, a light blush coloring his cheeks.

“Mmm, I like it.”  David loops his arms around Patrick’s neck and breathes him in.

“Let’s go,” Patrick says.

“Okay, but it isn’t even eight o’clock.  Do you want coffee, or something to eat?  I could make French toast-”

“No – let’s just go.”

Patrick’s clearly nervous, but for once his nerves don’t seem to be accompanied by a side of bitchy apprehension.  David will take it.

They park right in front of the store, and David moves as quickly as he can to get Patrick’s wheelchair out and the two of them inside.  He’s pretty sure that no one spots them, although he wouldn’t really mind that much if Twyla came by with some breakfast.  But it’s Patrick’s first time in town in the chair, and David would prefer for it not to be complicated with visits from random busybodies.

David’s been by the store a handful of times in the past few weeks, and he’s pleased to see that nothing looks too terribly out of place.  He has made both Stevie and Jocelyn facetime him so he can supervise whenever they set out a new product, but it’s not the same as seeing it in person.

David can’t help but watch as Patrick wheels slowly around the store.  It’s an odd sight, most of his body hidden from view as he moves past the display tables.  Then Patrick pauses by the register.  He can’t quite fit the wheelchair behind the counter, and even if he could, he’d be too low to work there very easily.  David cringes – he should have thought of this and at least checked to make sure the place was accessible.  He watches Patrick force a neutral expression on to his face, and it hurts to see it.

“We can move that,” David says, knowing he’s taking a risk by acknowledging the problem, but the store is Patrick’s baby too, and it’s just wrong that he can’t work the counter, or maneuver his chair into the small office space behind it.

“No, it’s fine,” Patrick says, backing himself out and turning around.  

“We can sort the lip balms over here,” David says, clearing an already mostly empty space on an easier to reach back table.

“Yeah, okay.”

“And I’ll look for a new counter tonight.  More of a table than a dresser.”  Patrick needs to be able to get his legs underneath.

“It’s okay, David,” Patrick says, his voice tight.

“It’s not, actually,” David mutters.  He lets the subject drop, and finds the two boxes of lip balms in the back room. They spread them out and start sorting.

It turns out it’s not quite as easy as David expected.  Their best seller, honey vanilla, is easy to identify, as is the lavender sage.  The apple rosemary is fairly individual as well, with a sweet fresh scent balanced by the deeper aroma of rosemary.  But the last two – pear basil and cucumber thyme – seem to be almost identical.

After about an hour they have finished a first sweep through one box.  The honey vanilla, lavender sage, and apple rosemary are all separated into baskets, ready to be labeled.  But then there’s still a big pile of “not sures.”

“We could label them all cucumber pear,” Patrick suggests.  “Cover all the bases.”

“Putting aside the fact that then we’d have to order new labels, that completely ignores the admittedly not very noticeable notes of basil and thyme.”

“Call them cucumber pear herb, maybe?”

“Why not just go with ‘fruit and/or vegetable’ and call it a day?”  David sighs.  It’s his own fault for letting this vendor get overly creative.

“’English garden’ might work,” Patrick says, smiling.

David laughs.  “Natural beauty.”

“Nature.”  Patrick takes a long sniff of one of the unknowns.  “Just nature.  Here, try it.  It definitely smells like nature.”

“Hey kids, what’s so funny?”

They look up at the same time to find Stevie coming in the front door.  She joins them in the back and examines the piles of lip balms, sniffing at each of them.

“You can’t tell them apart either, can you?”  she asks mildly.

“Of course we can,” David says, at the same time Patrick replies, “Nope.”

Stevie grins and then pushes past David to hug Patrick.  “Good to see you,” she says quietly, and hangs on to him for a long moment, her dark hair falling around Patrick’s face.

“Thanks.”

Stepping back, she surveys the scene.  “Looks like you made some progress.  Wanna take a break?  I stopped by the café, and Twyla’s dying for you to come in.”  She addresses this comment to Patrick, who gives David a panicked look.

Always good at reading a scene, Stevie backs off.  “Or I could go pick us up something and we could eat here?”

“That would be great, Stevie,” David says, laying a hand on Patrick’s shoulder.  “We didn’t have a chance to eat before we left the house, and I’m famished.”

“Shocking,” Patrick says, and David has to hide a grin at Patrick’s inner little shit showing his face at last.

“Just for that, I won’t let you have any of my pancakes.”

[pressedinthepages]

Vorfreude (Part 2)

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Jaskier x Reader

Word Count: 2369

Rating: E

Series Masterlist

a/n: Reader Request: [I’ve just read your Jaskier x reader story “Vorfreude” and I’ve came to say that it is truly beautifully written, and it’s just a shame that it is hidden in the tags. Can I please request an oneshot where it’s set a few years after the wedding, and they’ve been on their adventures, etc and they finally decide that they want to start a family and they start by having sex. Lots of fluff/smut!! Please and thank you!] absolutely anon! this was super cute and lovey the first time around, so im happy to expand!!! (Here’s the original!)

Tags:   @whitewolfandthefox @havenoffandoms @MishaFaye @criminaly-supernatural @queenxxxsupreme @persephonehemingway @hina-chans-stuff

(There is a link on my page where you can be added to my taglist :D)

Warnings: SMUT, discussions of pregnancy, jaskier is gonna be such a dilf, jaskier’s iconic butt bow

Jaskier returns from another adventure, ready to settle at home and create a family.

    The flowers in your garden shine under the light of the evening sun, soft colors awash with life. You kneel among them, trimming and pruning stray leaves and weeds from where they pop up from the soil. You hum to yourself as you work, one of the songs that Jaskier wrote but never performs, only sung for you in the comfort of your home. 

    You rise to your feet, brushing the dirt from your hands on your skirt as you cross to the well that sits at the side of your house. You lower the pail to the ground, quickly plunging your hands into the cool water. As you stand once more, water dripping down your arms as you dry them on your skirt as well, you hear heavy hoofbeats, accompanied by the sound of a lute. Your skirt falls from your hold as you turn with a gasp, watching as several people break through the treeline.

    You run to your fence, fingers fumbling with the latch until it relents, opening the gate as you dash through. Jaskier sees you coming and swings his lute across his back, his smile wide as he moves to meet you. He leaves his companions trailing behind him, wind whipping through his chestnut locks as you race into each other’s arms. His arms catch you, wrapping around your waist as he sweeps you off the ground. He spins you, the both of you laughing at the joy of feeling one another once more.

    Jaskier sets you back down and pulls you in close, pressing his lips to yours in a deep kiss. You can taste the longing in it, how he quietly moans into your mouth and discreetly digs his nails into your sides as he grips you tighter. You smile into him, running your hands up and down his arms, over his chest, feeling him under your fingers as you confirm that he is truly there in front of you. You hold his face in your hands as you pull back, seeing far beyond the endless pools of love in his eyes.

    “Welcome home, dear,” you murmur, resting your foreheads together as his dimples deepen with his grin. You stay like this, breathing each other in, feeling the empty spot in your soul fill back up in Jaskier’s presence. You glance over to the treeline, spotting the silhouette of Geralt and Roach where they wait patiently for an invitation. You huff out a laugh, stepping back from Jaskier as you wave them over. 

Grabbing Jaskier’s hand and threading your fingers together, you walk leisurely to the entrance of your home. As you open the door Jaskier spins you back to him with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “May I?”

You roll your eyes, “Love, you do this every time-ah!” Your voice carries into a fit of laughter as Jaskier swiftly bends down and sweeps you into his arms, carrying you once again over the threshold of the home. Your husband is ridiculous, sure, but it is with love that he carries out his rituals. Jaskier sets you down as you hear Geralt and Roach walk up the path to the backyard. 

You stoke the fire, throwing some leftover stew into the pot so that it can warm through. Geralt steps through the door, nudging it closed behind him. You see him glance around the room, surveying the little trinkets that adorn the walls and the books on the shelves. He steps towards them, undoing his sheathes and sliding them from his shoulders. 

“I see you’ve found some new titles, little magpie,” his voice is low, dark as he runs his thumb over the spines of the books. You smile, grabbing three bowls and filling them generously before placing them on the table. 

“Well, Geralt, you’re one to talk,” you tease, “seems you’ve picked up a new traveler.”

A young girl, maybe fourteen, stands huddled in the doorway. She looks exhausted, like she’s been through hell and sees that journey with every blink of her eyes. Her hair is the same hue as Geralt’s, ethereal silver waves framing her young face. Her eyes, though. They are striking, the light green so clear it felt as though you were peering into the waters of Brokilon. They stand out against her pale skin and hair, strength and pride shining through your humble home.

“Ah yes, darling, terribly sorry,” Jaskier stands from his place at the table, bending low in a gesture to the young woman, “This is Princess Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, rightful heir to the throne of Cintra. And this, Princess, is the love of my life.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, moving to bend in a low curtsy. “Forgive me, Princess, I did not know of your identity.” You glare over at Jaskier, who has now settled back at the table and is shoveling his mouth full of stew. 

“Oh, please, do call me Ciri.” Her voice rings through your cottage, crisp with a life in court, but sweet around the edges of the words. You rise up, extending your hand to invite her to the table. She moves further in, looking over at Geralt before sitting across from Jaskier. Geralt comes over to the table too, one of your books tucked in his arm as he takes the spot next to her. You watch as she leans into his side, clearly relaxing just from his proximity. You catch Jaskier’s eye and give him a look, one that implies that he will be having a lot of explaining to do later.

Good thing he’s a bard.

…

“...So, now that she’s safe, Geralt is going to bring her up to Kaer Morhen. The other witchers are going to help for a while, probably Yennefer too.”

You’ve been pretty silent as Jaskier weaves the story, soaking in the tragic tale of the Last Rose of Cintra. Your home is far enough north that you still feel safe, but the threat of Nilfgaard looms overhead, an unavoidable disaster if ever there was one. 

“Ciri’s been with Geralt for a couple of months now, and by the gods they are picked from the same tree. She’s stubborn as a mule, vicious with the words that she cares to share, but she’s still a sweet young girl underneath. She’s been through so much, I feel like I’d be a right ass if I went through half of what she has…” Jaskier sits next to you on the bed, taking your hand in his as he finally falls silent. Your heart breaks for the princess, just imagining her curled up on your extra bed in the attic, Geralt meditating at her feet. 

“You know what this means though?” Jaskier squeezes your hand. You hum, looking over at him as you wait for an answer. “It means, darling, I’ll get to stay here, with you…” He nuzzles into your neck, pulling you tight against him. You can’t help the broad smile that pulls at your lips, thrilled with the prospect of having Jaskier here all the time. 

Well, maybe not all the time...even you have your limits with how much *restless bard energy* you can take. Hopefully one of the taverns will strike a deal with him to perform regularly...

His lips pull your attention back, kissing a line down your neck and over your shoulder as he slides the sleeve of your shirt down your arm. You undo the laces down the front, slipping the soft fabric off and letting it fall to the floor. Jaskier kisses hot, wet marks along your bare chest, his hands roving and squeezing and pulling little needy noises from the back of your throat. 

“Jaskier,” you breathe, “since you’re staying, we should-we should have our family.” Jaskier’s head is resting right over your stomach, and you feel the way that his lips turn up against your skin before rising. He sets his hands on either side of your face, his wedding ring cool on your cheek. 

“Are you sure, love? You think we’re ready for that?” You can hear the waver in his voice despite his obvious excitement as he searches your eyes, his thumb lightly running over your cheek. You set your hands on his waist, pulling him to straddle your legs. 

“I’m not sure that we’ll ever be ready, but I think that it would be silly to wait any longer.” You can’t deny your own nervousness as well, but it is far outweighed by the raging urge to keep Jaskier, his heart, his soul, all of him, and let him know the joy that a loving family can bring.

“Now, take this damn shirt off,” you murmur into his neck, nipping lightly at his collarbone where it peeks from under the chemise. Jaskier shakes with laughter, swiftly pulling the shirt over his head as you run your hands over his body. You’ve missed this, the feeling of his skin under your fingers. 

Every time that he comes back home, you have to relearn each other a bit. But it’s a good thing that you’ve always been a quick study.

Jaskier cups the back of your head as he leans down, taking your lips in his as he licks into your mouth with fervor. He hums as he moves against you, ever the performer with his still-clothed erection pressing into your hip. You reach around, finding the little bow on his trousers at the small of his back.

“These pants are ridiculous,” you huff, undoing the tie and pulling at the now loose garment. 

“Not ridiculous!” Jaskier gasps incredulously, “They are perfectly suited to traveling and they are comfortable, plus,” he waggles his eyebrows a bit as he stands from your grasp, “they keep me wrapped up like a little present, just for you.”

You shake your head with a smile, watching as he slides them down along with his underclothes. You’ve lain with him gods know how many times, but the sight of Jaskier bare, in all of his glory, still sends you reeling, your fingers itching to stroke, pull, pinch, touch your husband. 

Jaskier sways towards you, pulling you to stand with him as he undoes the buttons at the side of your skirt. Ever practical, he yanks both it and your underclothes down in one fluid motion. He leaves them pooled on the floor as he slowly climbs back up your form, kissing up your legs and lingering at your core before standing to his full height. 

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he whispers, holding you close, as if worried you’d disappear if he strayed too far from your reach. You kiss him then, your lips fitting together as if molded from the same block of clay. You fall backward onto the bed, pulling him so that he hovers over you. 

Jaskier’s fingers dance down your body, light touches leaving goosebumps in their wake as he finds your core. Your legs open as he runs his fingers along your slit, letting his thumb rub slow, gentle circles on the peak of your core as he slides a finger inside of you. You curl into his touch, desperate for anything he chooses to give you.

His lips move on your neck, worrying a mark into the same spot that he always chooses when he returns home. As he plunges another finger into your cunt you moan, almost a growl with impatience. Heat flushes through you relentlessly, waves breaking on the shore in a storm of pleasure. 

“Jaskier,” you gasp, your fingers digging into his hips. He is especially lean when he first returns to you, but you know that he will grow just a little bit softer with the comfort of your love. “Please, I need you,”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” he teases, running the tip of his cock through your folds before slowly pushing inside of you. Your back arches into him, the fill of him so familiar yet unique, as if you were truly made for each other by the gods. 

Jaskier moves quickly, clearly just as pent up as you are as he thrusts into you. He hits deep with every snap of his hips, your impending pleasure building faster and faster under his touch. One of his hands grips your hip, digging into the soft flesh. His other finds your own hand, threading his fingers with yours as he fucks into you. Jaskier’s head still rests in the crook of your neck, the damp ends of his hair tickling you as he moves. 

“Gods, love,” he whispers between breaths, “I always try to remember just how good you feel, but it is never the same…”

His hips start to falter, quickening as you hook your ankles around his back and pull him closer. His thumb returns to your core, circling the peak of your pleasure as he finds the spot inside of you that makes you see stars. Jaskier hits it again and again and again, sending you plummeting into the high of your orgasm. You cry out his name as your hips cant unconsciously with him, squeezing his hand in your own hard enough to turn your knuckles white. 

Jaskier loses himself then, his hips stuttering before stilling deep in your cunt, his cock throbbing with his release. You feel his spend swirl inside of you, hot and thick as it mingles with your own slick. 

You hold him close, keeping him where he lays atop of you. “Stay, for a moment,” you murmur, running your hands through his hair as he catches his breath. Jaskier does, staying inside of you as he shifts his weight, rolling onto his side and pulling you with him. He peppers kisses all over your face, drenching you in his adoration. 

“Maybe I can convince Geralt to build us a crib before he leaves,” he whispers, holding you lightly as he carefully slides himself out of your core. You whimper a bit at the emptiness, but a comfortable bliss envelops you as your breathing deepens. Your hand rests over Jaskier’s heart, the feeling of it beating under your fingertips and Jaskier humming another one of his private songs lulling you into the grasp of sleep.

[ericsonclan]

Never Again

Summary: Mitch and Violet process their guilt in the aftermath of the fight with the Delta where Violet and Clementine were permanently injured.

Word Count: 2645

Read on AO3:

“Shit, looks like it’ll rain soon,” Mitch’s expression was sour as he led Violet onto the upper decks then his eyes widened in apology. “Fuck, I didn’t mean to-”

“Remind me you can see? Chill, Mitch,” Violet waved her free hand dismissively, the other clinging tightly to her friend’s arm. “Stuff like that doesn’t bug me. It’s the actual blindness that fucking sucks,”

“Ruby said you were seeing some things thought, right? That’s a good sign,”

Violet shrugged. “There’s some light, vague colors, blurry shapes. She told me I’d pretty much have to re-memorize where everything was. I just hope it’s not too long till I can actually find the head on my own. I’m sick of being escorted to the bathroom, especially by Prisha. It’s fucking embarrassing,”

“Prisha doesn’t mind. Hell, she probably enjoys helping you find the bathroom,”

“That’s fucking weird, Mitch,”

“Shut up,” Mitch’s brow furrowed as he looked out on the sea once more. It was a sickly green. There would definitely be a storm tonight, probably a rough one too. But for now the upper decks were empty, the ship anchored in place. Louis had arranged for the rest of the crew to be occupied with other tasks so that Violet could get in her exercise without being overwhelmed by the sounds of others at work around her. Ever since the injury, Violet had been especially sensitive to noise. Giving her space to relearn the ship wasn’t much, but it was all most of them could do for now.

Cautiously, Mitch stepped over toward the center of the ship. “We’re approaching the main mast if you want to touch it and shit. Heard that helps,”

“Yeah,” Violet’s voice was soft. It had always been that way but now it seemed as though she rarely spoke above a whisper. She reached out hesitantly, her fingers tracing the wood that was smooth from years of being weathered by the winds and waves. “It feels like it always did: like a mast,” Her hand moved upward, tracing one of the ropes that dangled alongside the mast. Mitch wondered if she was remembering all the times she used to climb the mast with ease and head along the main boom, sitting amongst the sails in her own private world. Someday she would get that back. She had to. Violet wouldn’t be Violet without somewhere to hide all by herself.

“You’re doing it again,”

“Doing what?”

“Pitying me. I know I make it easy, but you could at least do a better job of hiding it,” Violet’s hand dropped, and she waited silently for Mitch to take her arm and guide her once more. Mitch acquiesced, guiding her step by step toward the fore mast. Violet’s grip on his arm was tense. Gently he placed his hand on top of hers on his arm, hoping the gesture would help center her. He glanced over at her face, still covered in bandages. It had been a few weeks since the explosion. Hopefully with time her eyes would grow strong enough to handle sunlight once more but who knew when that would be.

“For what it’s worth, I wasn’t pitying you,”

“Mhm,”

“I’m serious! I wasn’t thinking of you at all! Well I was, but I was mainly thinking about what an idiot I was for staying on the ship that day. I should have jumped over to help you and Clem,”

“That’s fucking stupid. You were busy protecting Willy and helping Brody. Everybody was swamped. Besides, it’s not like having you on the Delta ship would have changed anything. A fucking cannon exploded. Nobody could have stopped that,”

She was right. Still, it did little to ease the guilt. Violet had been blinded, perhaps for the rest of her life, and Clementine had lost a leg because of that Delta attack. Meanwhile Mitch had escaped relatively unscathed. That wasn’t right. No matter how much logic there was in Violet’s words, Mitch had found his thoughts trapped in an unending loop these past weeks, caught in a replay of the day’s events again and again, wondering what he could have done differently. Perhaps if he’d coordinated better with the others, they would have been able to spare him on Ol’ Kickass and he could have jumped over onto the Delta pirates’ ship. Thoughts of spotting the faulty cannon and pushing it out of the way were fantastical at best but still if he had been over there then perhaps he could have shielded Violet from that blast, covered her and Prisha and taken the brunt against his own back. For his back to be covered in scars was nothing compared to what had happened to Violet’s eyes.

“We’ve taken fifty steps, right?” Violet’s words cut through the haze of his thoughts.

“Uh, yes?”

Violet sighed in annoyance. “You’re supposed to be counting with me, dumbass! How am I gonna remember where everything is if I can’t get my steps right!”

“Let’s take a break,” Mitch muttered, pulling Violet toward the bannister of the ship.

“I don’t need one!”

“Well I do!” Mitch immediately regretted his tone. “Shit, Vi-”

“No, I get it,” Violet’s tone was bitter, cold. “It’s a lot of work being with somebody who can’t fucking see,”

“That’s not what I-”

“I want to go back to the room now,” Violet was trying to hide it, but Mitch caught the tremor in her voice.

“Vi, if we go in there, we’ll wake up Prisha from her nap. We barely got her to take one in the first place. You know as well as I do if we head in there before we said we would, Prisha will never let herself take a break again,”

“…I know,” Violet’s voice was quieter than ever as her head bowed.

Shit. All he had done was make her feel like even more of a burden. “Vi, you know what I meant by that. Prisha loves you. So much that she doesn’t rest like she should sometimes. That’s why I said that. It’s not your fault,”

“If me telling you it wasn’t your fault doesn’t work on you, what makes you think turning it the other way around will work on me?”

Mitch looked over at his lifelong friend. Her body looked so frail now, thin as a pile of kindling and battleworn with cuts and burns littered all over her neck and arms. A tear had slipped from below her bandages and was slowly making its way down her chin. Yet she stood as resolute as ever, the same fire still burning within her that he’d seen each day she fought to keep them alive on the streets. Violet was battered and bruised, but as low as her spirit had fallen it was not yet broken. He would make sure it never did. Taking her hand again, he led her back towards the main mast. “Come with me,”

“Where are we going?”

“Where you want to be. And since nobody else is on deck they can’t fucking stop us,”

“And where is that?”

“Just… stay here, OK? Wait a minute,” With that Mitch began climbing up the mast, stopping only once he had reached the boom. Violet was standing below looking lost but still waiting to see what he could do. Reaching for the nearest rope, Mitch pulled it up, looped it with a stopper knot to close the loop then threw it over the boom and lowered it toward Violet. The wind that had picked up slightly made the rope swing back and forth, hitting Violet’s cheek as it drifted down.

“What the fuck?” Violet exclaimed, backstepping in shock.

“It’s just a rope!” Mitch called down. “Find the loop and step through it! I’m gonna use it to hoist you up!”

Violet seemed unsure of the plan. Her hands ran across the rope cautiously and when she found the knot she tugged it, testing its strength. Of course it held. Mitch’s knots always did. She stepped through it one foot at a time, positioning the loop snugly before nodding. “Ready,”

Slowly, placing one hand over the other, Mitch pulled on the rope. Violet lifted a few inches off the ground. Inch by inch he pulled her up, taking his time to make sure that the ride up was as steady as possible. As soon as Violet was within reach, he tied off the rope and took her hand, pulling her up the rest of the way. “Careful. We don’t want you stepping anywhere you shouldn’t,”

“This is fucking insane,” Violet’s voice was tight; clearly she was worried to be up so high.

“C’mon,” Mitch cajoled, trying to ease her fears. “You know the walkways of this ship better than anybody,”

“That was when I could fucking see, Mitch! Shit… take me down,”

“Are you sure?” Mitch’s hands held Violet’s, feeling the tension that froze her in place. “If you’re sure, I will. But I promise I won’t let you fall,”

The tears on Violet’s face had dried in the wind, now faint traces upon her cheeks. Her face turned into the wind, the rough locks of hers blew waving this way and that with the gusts. She was considering her choice. Finally, she spoke. “I want to be sitting. My back against the mast,”

“We can do that,” Mitch shifted to position Violet at the point where the boom was thickest, angling her so her back rested against the security of the mast. Helping guide her to sit, Mitch took his seat beside her, his hand in hers. “The rope’s still around your waist. Nothing’s gonna knock you over that I can’t stop,”

“There’s a storm coming,”

“We’ve still got a few minutes before we need to head inside,”

They were quiet as they sat up there together, their feet gently dangling beneath them off the edge of the boom, kicking the air as they took in the salty sea breeze and the calm, steadfast presence that was the sea. Violet remained silent, but Mitch could tell that she had relaxed a bit, her form no longer as tense as it had been not long before. Instead her shoulders slouched forward by her neck, her back curving with the same terrible posture that Ruby always scolded her on ever since they’d met.  

“What color is it today? The sea,”

Mitch looked over, rather surprised Violet had spoken. He cleared his throat. “It’s that gross green color that it gets before a storm, like snot,”

“And the clouds?”

“Really dark, grey. I bet you can picture the shade they are from how the thunder has started rumbling,”

Violet nodded. “That’s what I guessed. I just hope I can remember it later on, once…”

“Once what?”

“Once I’ve had these bandages for years,”

“Violet. That’s not gonna fucking happen. Ruby said it herself: the fact you’re seeing colors and shit means you’re not gonna need those bandages forever. You’re gonna see again,”

Violet shook her head. “It’ll never be the same. My eyes will be shit for the rest of my life and the longer they’re like that…” her voice broke. “The more I’ll forget,”

The tears were coming faster now. Mitch was unsure what to do. He didn’t want to shift much for fear of putting Violet in danger. Swapping the hand that held hers, he used his free one to take her shoulder and guide her head to rest against his shoulder. Her tears dampened his shirt as the rain began to fall in a light drizzle. Mitch remained silent. All those years on the streets when they were starving and beaten and cold he’d never seen Violet cry. Perhaps that was because she was never alone; Tenn and Willy were always around, needing guidance and protection. Needing her to be strong. But now they weren’t here to see her cry and for the first time in his life Mitch saw Violet cry. All he could do was stay beside her and let it come out.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, his eyes downcast. “I know it’s not worth shit, but I am. We were always there for each other, no matter what. Finding food, looking out for danger - we had each other’s backs. That didn’t change when we became pirates. It’s still my job to look out for you, to protect all of you. I failed that day. But it won’t happen again, not ever,”

“You’re not the only one,” Violet murmured. “Our family’s grown since the days on the streets. We all look out for each other. And Clem got hurt on my watch. I was right there, on the same fucking ship, and I couldn’t do anything to stop Minnie. Clem lost her leg; it’s gone. Maybe if I’d been able to get Minnie to listen…”

“That’s what you’re blaming yourself for? Vi, whatever happened to Minnie all those years she was gone changed her. Changed her in a way there’s no coming back from. She wouldn’t listen, not to any of us,”

“I could have tried harder,”

“You gave it your fucking all, Vi. We all saw that. Nothing was gonna get through to Minnie. Her head’s too fucked up for that now,” Mitch looked to Violet, seeing the uncertainty in the uncovered portion of her face. “Vi, you can’t see what happened to Clem as your fault. That was all Minnie,”

“And my wrecked face is a cannon’s fault, not yours,” Violet turned to Mitch as if hoping to get some confirmation her words had touched him even through his silence. “Guess it’s not that easy to accept, huh?”

“Not easy at all,” Mitch kicked out his leg, the toe of his boot scuffing the mast.

“Then what do we do?”

“Make sure nothing like this ever happens again,”

“And if we can’t do that?” The fear in the question was palpable.

Mitch squeezed her hand, gripping it all the firmer. “We get stronger. We give it everything we’ve fucking got. Just like we’ve always done,”

A small smile crossed Violet’s lips. “Should’ve known you’d give an answer like that,”

Mitch shrugged. “It’s all I’m good for. Put me in front of an enemy, I won’t stop till I obliterate them,”

Nah,” Violet shook her head, “You’re worth more than that. You’re the only one to have the guts to get me up here again. That’s worth something,”

A rueful smile tugged at Mitch’s face. “It made you feel a bit better?”

Violet nodded. “A bit more like myself. We should probably get down though. Rain’s getting harder,”

“Right. You OK up here on your own for a minute?”

“I can manage,”

Climbing down from the mast, Mitch kept a careful eye on Violet, ready to catch her if need be. Once his feet touched the deck he grabbed the rope, giving it a tug to signal he was about to start before slowly letting Violet down inch by inch. Her feet had scarcely reached the deck when the rain truly began to pour. They both ran hand in hand toward the steps to the lower decks.

“I’ll tell the others we gotta get ready for the storm!” Mitch called over the sound of the rain. “You think you can get back to the sleeping quarters on your own?”

“I’ve got this!” Violet called back. Letting go, she traced a hand along the wall of the corridor leading toward the rooms. “Go get the others!”

Giving Violet one final glance, Mitch turned toward the kitchen where he knew Omar had most of the crew busy at work peeling this week’s potatoes. Violet was gonna be alright. Not all the way better, but she wasn’t giving up. She’d continue her own internal fight and he’d do his best to keep her safe. He’d keep all of them safe. It was time to weather a storm.

[tiannarosetarot]

Wonho Current Energy Reading - June 29th

Very long reading ahead, but I hope you’ll check it out! 

There is a lot going on, yet at the same time things feel very balanced. Wonho has just announced his new fandom name and has made his first vlive. This already feels like he has passed over the first major hurdle. He’s been slowly climbing back up from basically rock bottom. Ever since that terrible day in October, he is rebuilding his image, his self esteem and his career. He’s been holding back quite a bit, reasonably so, but I’ve thought since the beginning that when he makes a vlive, that’s when we’ll know. His vlives are extremely special to Monbebe and he has always used the platform to share his life with us and bring us along on his journey. I know that now that he is comfortable enough to go live with us again, he has passed that difficult checkpoint, and will hopefully be able to do it a lot now. It’s kinda like when a couple first confesses that they love each other. At first it is scary and awkward, and they’re not sure whether they should say it. But once they do, now they’re able to say it all the time to each other. I think vlive is Wonho’s way of saying ‘I love you’. And if he’s afraid we might not say it back, that will be extremely harmful to him. I think he needed to wait until he felt comfortable enough that we would reciprocate his feelings. Throughout this process there has been a lot of negativity and people attacked him for something he didn’t even do. So the fact that he feels strong enough to show himself to us again in the way he used to is incredibly special. 

 Wonho also used this vlive as a way to announce his fandom name with us, which is Wenee. I’m a little worried, because I see a lot of people who aren’t super happy with the name. I’ll admit that it seemed a little strange at first, but after knowing the backstory behind it, I know that it will become super special to us, as he pushed for this name himself. In order to make sure that Wonho feels ready and comfortable to fully come back, we need to make sure that we’re sending positive energy and messages towards him. He is a pretty sensitive person (which is a good thing), but I know that in the past he has sometimes taken negative comments to heart. It is important that we project into the universe what we want to happen. Whether you believe in this stuff or not, there is some truth that if you try really hard for something to happen, it definitely can. So let’s make sure Wonho doesn’t think we don’t like his choices, or he may stop trusting in his abilities. Let’s trust that he knows what he’s doing and can make his own decisions. We are his fans, and it is our job to support him in what he does. To reiterate this once again, the fact that he released a fandom name is much more important than what the name actually is. It means he is moving in the right direction to coming back into the industry. Even if you wish he were back in Monsta X, let’s trust in his new achievements now and worry about that later. Just because he’s becoming a solo artist doesn’t mean the chance of him coming back is completely off the table. And again, hopefully we realize that it is better to have him back in the music industry even without being part of Monsta X, than not have him back at all. 

Now onto the cards ~

There is a new start for Wonho coming. He needs to work on his insecurities in order to achieve his dreams, because these things may be holding him back from doing so. There is also this feeling that he doesn’t really want to move on. He’s a little stuck in the past, wishing things were back the way they were. He is missing the group activities and the family he has been a part of for so long. But I think he’s finally realizing that the rest of the members are going to be okay without him. Wonho left because he wanted them to still be successful, and I know that he’s been hyping them up with all of their projects. He can trust now that they are doing fine, and take that as a positive sign that he can move forward. He needs to not let his past hold him back from achieving his dreams. He can remember that part of himself, all of the beautiful memories they shared together, without needing to stay in the shadows forever. We can think of this like any other idol who takes on a solo project or album. They work on promoting that for a while, and still can do group projects as well. Although Wonho may not be in the group right now, there is still a chance that could happen in the future. I know a lot of people have given up, which is totally fine, but I do still believe that he could come back somewhere in the future, and to not give up on those dreams just yet. He needs to not allow the hope of that return stop him from moving forward in his life. He needs to take care of his needs and keep fighting for his dreams. 

There is a lot of fire energy in this reading, including a lot of Aries energy. I’m definitely feeling a lot of movement and power coming from this; he is taking back control. Things are happening quite quickly but no longer in a negative way, because he is taking the reins. Things are happening at the right speed for him now. It’s as if he has been using all of this time to sort everything out and now that those things have happened (New Moon in Cancer: he trusts Monsta X is okay, and South Node: he is not letting his past stop him from moving forward) he is able to finally take action. I have a strong feeling that things will all start falling into place now that he has made his vlive and announced the fandom name. Everything has been building up to this moment, and now rather quickly, things will start working out the way they are supposed to. It’s kinda a roller coaster. After leaving Monsta X, he dropped down to the ground. He’s been slowly inching his way back up to the peak, but with a lot of anticipation and maybe some anxious energy. But once he reaches the top he sees where he needs to go. He’s on top of the world again. And he can now soar down the steep track and enjoy the ride; as all of that pent up energy is being released. (I know Wonho hates heights so maybe this isn't the best analogy, but roller coasters are meant to be fun and exciting. I really want to emphasize that this isn’t like he’s reached the top and it’s only downhill now. This is a super exciting drop that will allow him to really set everything in motion. 

The New Moon in Aries card is a big sign for him to be able to achieve anything he puts his mind to. He may still have a long way to go on this journey (Aries is the first sign of the zodiac), but he’s definitely getting there. He is making sure he does things correctly this time, and he is taking all the time he needs to really make sure he’s ready. He wants to figure out the logistics so that he can be able to have it easier later on. The only problem with this is that he might get so tied up into making everything perfect that he never actually takes action. But seeing that he released his fandom name shows that is not the case, and I hope this strategy works well for him. I think he has a really good foundation which will allow him to grow into an amazing artist again, so we need to be patient in his efforts. He knows what he is doing. 

I’m really glad that the Justice card came up in this reading. This whole situation has been based around a legal matter, an accusation that Wonho did something unethical. However he has been proven innocent and has been given a second chance. Through this card, we are reminded that justice does prevail. Love does win, and people who do the right thing will come out on top. Maybe not always, and maybe not often either, but Wonho worked way too hard to have this all taken away from him so quickly. So the fact that he’s coming back just proves that things are working the way they are supposed to, and that hopefully there is a change happening in the kpop industry. I want to point out a quote from this card which says “Even though events in our life may seem unjust, there is a divine order to the universe.” This reminds me a lot of Wonho’s situation. This whole time we’ve been thinking that what happened to him was unfair, but maybe there is some reason why this happened. There is a hope that can be found in this card, that this event will only make him, Monsta X, and Monbebe stronger. This card can also symbolize weighing all sides before making an important decision, which I do think is what he is doing. It is important he thinks this all through before taking any big risks he might regret later. 

The Three of Cups reversed represents overindulgence or an attempt to escape from the unpleasant aspects of life. It could also represent alone time and independence. The upright version of this card represents the opposite; celebration, friendship, community. Wonho is starting out on his own after being part of a group for so long. He has the opportunity to make many more decisions now and get a lot closer to the fans. He has a newfound independence that could have negative and positive aspects to it. He could be enjoying all of this freedom, but he may be overwhelmed in the amount of things he has to do. It’s no longer all being split between 7 members and in the kpop world, solo artists normally have to work harder to become and stay popular. I also sense a loneliness, and a possible emptiness that he’s feeling going through the steps again of things like announcing a fandom name, and eventually a debut, comeback stages and maybe someday his own concerts. In the past he experienced all of these major moments with his members, but he’s venturing out on his own now. He needs to remember that he still has his fans by his side, and therefore he isn’t truly alone. 

This situation really is like he’s starting all over again though. He’s relearning how to do all of these things that he may not have done in a while. I could tell he was slightly out of practice trying to do aegyo today. I think he’s trying extremely hard to learn everything he can. He’s been learning English and Japanese, maybe other languages too. He’s been taking his time to make sure he makes careful decisions. He’s really being like the apprentice in the Eight of Pentacles, working hard through repetitive tasks and using keen attention to detail in order to master his craft. The second time around, he has the opportunity to do things with more ease and enjoy the moments that he may have been too nervous during the first time around. I’m really proud of how hard he is trying lately to better himself, and feel even more inspired by him than normal. He doesn’t want to disappoint, and I know that anything Wonho releases will only be after extreme thought and with thorough execution so I really hope that we can see that. 

I’m so happy to be a Wenee now, and I want to say happy birthday to my fellow new fandom! Although I’ve been with many of you before, we need to get used to the fact that there will be new Wonho fans who have not known him as a member of Monsta X. I hope we can accept them into this family because the people I’ve grown to know through Monsta X are some of the most amazing people ever. I’m so proud to be part of these two beautifully intertwined fandoms and I can't wait to see what happens in the future. Don’t give up on hoping and be patient for what Wonho as well as the universe has prepared. I believe it will to be even better than anything we could’ve imagined. 

[donteattheappleshook]

Of Cars and Bars Chapter 9/14

As always, thank you Krystal @kmomof4​ for all of your amazing beta work and for just being a lovely person. Twice now you’ve talked me out of giving up on this one! This story exists because of and is dedicated to you!

This chapter is a little smutty ;). A ‘lime’ as we called it back in my day.

Summary:

Rated E

When Emma Swan is offered the chance to go on tour as an opener for one of the most popular up and coming bands of the decade, the last thing she expects is to find that the lead guitarist is the stranger she had a one night stand with five years ago.

This started out as a smutty two shot about Emma Ruby and Mary Margaret going on a road trip and has evolved into a slow-burn mutual pining angst-fest.

Read it from the beginning on Ao3 and Ffn because tumblr eats all my italics.

Chapter 9 - The Wrong Direction

When I was a kid the things I did were hidden under the grid / Young and naive I never believed that love could be so well hid / With regret I'm willing to bet and say the older you get / It gets harder to forgive and harder to forget

“I know how to write a song, Killian,” Emma practically snapped, sighing in exasperation. 

“You asked for my help,” he reminded her, sounding equally annoyed. “I don’t know what you were expecting.”

“Well, you’re not showing me anything I don’t already know.”

He threw his hands up in the air. “Well, what do you want me to do?” 

Emma was frustrated. They had been bickering for twenty minutes now, since they’d sat down on the bed in her hotel room, guitars in hand, finally trying to write together again. It had been two weeks since Killian had helped her with her song, had helped her finish it, making her realise how much she missed writing real music. And this was the first quiet moment they had been able to find to finally try again. It was not going well. 

Between shows every night and press in the mornings and afternoons, their days were full. When they weren’t performing on stage or in front of a camera they were on the bus with everyone else. Eight of them, jammed into a tour bus that, while spacious, was very claustrophobic and offered them no privacy. 

Emma didn’t want people around for this. She trusted Ruby and Mary Margaret and she’d come to really like Belle and the boys, but having them there, listening - or pretending not to listen - while she tried to relearn how to pour her soul onto a page terrified her. It was enough that Killian was there to see it. That was terrifying on its own. Emma wasn’t good at being vulnerable. But Killian had seen her at her most exposed and hadn’t judged or pitied her. That terrified her even more. Writing with him before had been so easy and so natural, and she feared that she wouldn’t be able to do it on her own. Not yet, anyway. 

But there had been no time. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. There had been some time. Usually, at night after their shows they were free to return to their hotel rooms and relax. They’d tried once or twice to write then but they always ended up getting… distracted. It wasn’t her fault. It was Killian’s. He was just so damn good at distracting her. He was just so damn good at kissing her. He was good at everything honestly - but she couldn’t tell him that, it would go straight to his head. 

He would find her by the vending machine in the hotel, or backstage after the show, or even that one time in the restaurant bathroom. Any moment they found themselves alone for a second she’d find herself pressed against a wall or a door with his hands roaming everywhere and his tongue doing unspeakable things to hers. And then he’d leave her with her knees weak, and her heart racing, and so damn frustrated. And she’d be left waiting until the others had gone to bed to seek him out. So yeah, most nights had ended in one of them doing their best to sneak out of the other’s room before anyone woke up. 

But now, now they had two blissful days off. No shows, no driving, no interviews or appearances. They were in Austin for an entire weekend all to themselves. And, that evening, Emma had finally managed to find a moment to sit down with him and try and create something. Instead, they’d been arguing. She knew he was trying to help but all he was doing was giving her advice on things she already knew, structure, chords, melody, fucking rhyme schemes. She knew how to write a song. She needed him to help her find the truths that were hiding scared inside of her, to lure them out like he’d done last time.

She sighed, dejected. “I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”

Killian didn’t answer for a minute. A frown pulled down his brow and his lips tightened into a thin line as he thought. “A few weeks ago, when I told you that writing music was like finding a way to have someone else help you carry your burdens… you said it used to be the same for you.”

“It was,” she admitted but her voice sounded distant and sad even to her own ears. 

“So then try that.” He looked at her in that way again, that way that made her feel like he was looking inside of her, into a part of her that she was sure she had kept well hidden from the world. But he could see it. And sometimes, when she looked at him, really looked at him, she thought she saw the same bit inside of him. “Let me help you carry your burdens,” he said, not as an order or an assumption that she should, but as a request. 

Emma had to steel herself. She could do this. She needed to do this. She’d asked him to help and that meant that she’d agreed to letting him see this part, this private part of her. But that didn’t make it any less scary. She nodded and he placed his fingers on the frets of his guitar. He played a couple of chords, improvising a melody. She told him when she liked something and when she didn’t, playing her own instrument and adding bits until they had a little verse they liked. He asked her what she wanted to write about and she said her childhood. 

It shocked her, surprising her even as the words came out of her mouth. She’d avoided talking about her life before Granny and her sisters, avoided thinking about it. He only nodded and waited for her to start. But nothing came. She sat, frustrated and trying to put into words the pain and the naivety and the stolen innocence but she couldn’t. It had been buried too deep for too long. She let out a frustrated groan, her head falling into her hands. The music stopped. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked. 

“I don’t know!” she whined. “I just - I can’t remember how to do it. I used to just sit down, you know, with my guitar and my thoughts and then it would just kind of, spill out. I didn’t used to have to think about it. Thinking about it is making it just feel - wrong.”

“Then stop thinking about it,” he encouraged. “Just say whatever pops into your head.” God, he was annoyingly persistent.

She glared at him, narrowing her eyes. “I don’t think you want to hear what’s in my head at the moment.” 

He laughed. “Perhaps not. I could give you prompts, like word associations?”

Emma sighed. It wasn’t working. It wasn’t going to work. She just didn’t have that spark or whatever it was she’d had last time. Last time she’d felt like the words just wanted to come out and so they had. This time they were shy, hiding timidly somewhere she couldn’t find them. She set down her guitar.

“Let’s just try another time,” she said, closing up her case. 

Killian considered her for a long time, long enough that she started to feel a little uncomfortable. He really needed to stop staring at her like he was trying to read her thoughts - she was already half convinced he could.

“We’re trying too hard,” he said finally, moving to put his own guitar away. “That’s the problem. You know, watched pot and all that.” Emma was going to answer but she didn’t get the chance as he picked up his case and grabbed her hand. “Come with me,” he instructed.

“What? Where are we going?” she demanded, barely managing to grab her instrument as she was dragged out of the room. Killian didn’t answer. Instead, he made his way down the hall, stopping at David's room and pounding twice. “Liam and Belle’s room. Five minutes! Bring your kit!” he called through the door. Then he moved on and repeated the same action at Graham’s door, then Ruby’s and then Mary Margaret’s. Finally they reached Liam and Belle’s room and Killian pounded on their door too. 

“Killian,” she said and he looked at her for the first time since they’d left his hotel room. “What are we doing?” she demanded.

He shot her a smile. “Just trust me, Swan.”

“Bloody hell, Killian,” Liam complained when he opened the door. “We’re going to get complaints.” Killian ignored him, pushing his way into the suite and dragging an unwitting Emma behind him. 

“Get your stuff,” he told his brother. “We’re having a riff-off.”

Emma watched as Liam’s face changed from scorn to amusement, and finally to excitement. She didn’t think she’d ever seen Liam excited. It was weird. 

“What is a riff-off?” Emma asked, knowing she probably wouldn’t get an answer. Killian seemed to be in a cryptic mood today. She was proven right when all the answer he gave her was a mysterious ‘you’ll see’. 

As their friends started to trickle into the room, carrying their instruments and looking equal amounts annoyed and confused - and a little rumpled in the case of Graham and Ruby - Liam returned with his guitar, Belle following behind him looking extremely pleased. Emma was surprised to see that she was carrying a ukulele. She had no idea Belle played.

Killian evaded all their questions, corralling them all into the middle of the room. David and Mary Margaret didn’t have their entire drum sets obviously but Mary Margaret had brought her sticks and a smaller drum from the set. David had brought goddamn bongos.  

“You mind telling us what we’re doing here?” Graham insisted, sounding very put-out. Probably at being interrupted, Emma mused trying to hide her smile. 

“Seriously,” Emma demanded now. “What the hell is a riff-off?” 

Her question set off a world of excitement and confusion as the boys suddenly perked up ‘we’re having a riff-off?’ and the girls tried to get a straight answer as to what the hell it was. 

“Who’s got writer’s block?” David teased. Before Emma could answer, her cheeks flushing pink, Killian spoke.

“I do. Now are you going to help me out or are you going to be an ass about it?”

David put his hands up in surrender. 

“Will someone please explain what the hell is going on?” Ruby demanded.

“It’s a game we play,” David started. “When one of us is having trouble writing. Or just for fun sometimes,” he smiled. Emma hesitated. She realised then what Killian was doing. He was still trying to get her to write. She didn’t think she liked this. This was songwriting with an audience. She shot him a look and he returned it with another one of those unspoken ‘trust me’s’.

“How does it work?” Mary Margaret asked. Killian answered this time.

“Well, for starters we all have to sit in a circle, so let’s go.” As everyone started shuffling around, moving some furniture to make room and finding a spot on the floor, Emma noticed that there seemed to be some strategy at play that she didn’t understand. David for example, made a point to sit on Graham’s right, something the latter seemed displeased with. Liam did the same to Killian. Emma spotted some room between Mary Margaret and Belle and was going to squeeze in when Killian caught her wrist. 

“Come on, Swan. You’re next to me for this round,” he told her. She hesitated for a second but he only gave her a bright smile and an encouraging nod. She sighed and sat next to him. When they were all settled, Killian explained the rules. “Right. This game is part challenge, part make it up as you go.” He received blank looks from all three newbies. 

“The rules are pretty straight forward,” Belle piped up. “One person starts by playing something on their instrument. It has to be original. They give the person on their left a topic. That person has to make up lyrics based on that topic and sing along to the melody that is given to them. If you falter, hesitate, or plagiarize, you lose and you’re out of the circle. We play to the last man - or woman - standing.”

“A whole song?” Mary Margaret asked, sounding nervous.

“No, only a little verse or something,” David assured her, putting a comforting hand on her knee. She flushed.

“But it has to end intentionally, not because you’ve run out of ideas,” Liam explained. 

“Graham managed a haiku once,” Killian pointed out. Graham gave a showy little bow - as best he could sitting cross-legged on the carpet. 

“Right,” Killian said, reaching back and picking up Emma’s guitar. He handed it to her. “Why don’t you start us off, Swan?” She gave him a little glare. At least he wasn’t making her sing. David was to her left. “Give him a topic, play a little tune for him once and then he has to start.” 

Emma took a deep breath. She could do this. There were no words involved in this - yet. Melodies were easier. She looked at David who waited, seeming wary of what topic she might give him. She liked David though, she figured she’d cut him some slack. She looked around at the rest of his bandmates and smiled, remembering all the times they’d mocked the only ‘yank’ in their group. 

“Brits,” she said. David beamed. She’d hardly finished improvising her riff when he started sharing his opinions on some very specific British habits. Killian, Liam, Belle, and Graham all shot him glares at different points. Emma wasn’t sure, but she thought she might have just learned that Killian had a very unhealthy obsession with The Great British Bake Off. The girls were practically in tears by the time he was done and they burst into applause for him. Alright, Emma thought, this game was pretty fun. 

David was next and had Graham to his left. Graham shot daggers at him before he even named his topic. “Cats,” was all he said. That was how Emma learned that Graham had a paralysing fear of all felines, apparently since he’d been taken to see the musical as a small boy. Emma realised now why some of them had chosen their positions strategically. If you had to sing on the spot, you were forced to sing about the first thing that popped into your head, embarrassing as it may be. You didn’t have time to dismiss an idea and come up with a new one. It must have been impossible for Graham to think of anything besides his fear and so he was forced to confess. David had clearly taken advantage of that. 

“I’ll get you back you bastard,” Graham warned. Ruby was red in the face from trying to contain her laughter. He picked up his bass. Belle was beside him. He smirked. “Your first kiss.” Belle groaned and was forced to sing about the fact that her first kiss had, in fact, been Graham himself. The game went on like that. All of them taking turns to poke fun at each other. Ruby, thanks to Mary Margaret, begrudgingly admitted to believing she was a werewolf for an entire month when she was twelve. Liam made Killian tell them all about how he got the scar on his face - by trying to shave, just like his big brother. That one made Emma smile. 

When it came to her turn, Emma expected Killian to make her sing about something real. But he didn’t. He didn’t the second time around either, or the third. Instead he gave her light topics, things that were fun and easy to sing about. She was honestly impressed with herself when she managed to rise to the challenge of ‘pirates’ which he threw at her out of left field. Slowly, one after the other, their friends were eliminated. Graham, as he stumbled near the end of what was turning out to be a fairly endearing love song prompted by the word ‘red’, Belle, as she blanked on anything having to do with Star Wars, Liam when he flipped Ruby off for saying ‘love letters’. 

They all booed but then cheered as David was the next eliminated, trying and failing to manage a rap to the topic of ‘prom night’. Emma played for Mary Margaret who stumbled on ‘talking birds’, turning bright red and refusing to admit to the year she was convinced she had super powers. But Ruby succeeded through Emma’s challenge to sing about Leonardo DiCaprio, her first love. 

It was Ruby’s turn to play for Killian now. She looked at Killian with a challenge in her eye. “Secrets,” she said and he stumbled for a second but managed to recover by the time it was his turn to sing. It was the weakest of his verses yet but he didn’t falter. Nobody else seemed to have noticed the exchange and Emma felt her heart flutter in her chest, wondering if Ruby knew - about them. 

Ruby gave him a congratulatory nod. It was her turn now, she could feel the adrenaline in her veins, the excited kind of anxiousness as she awaited her topic, a smile already on her face.

“Kids,” Killian said and she didn’t even have a chance to be surprised before he started playing a tune she recognized, the one they’d composed earlier. He hadn’t asked her specifically about her childhood, hadn’t insisted she sing about being a kid herself, but that was all that came to mind, the way she had felt free then, like nothing she did had consequences, but only for a little while. She’d learned young that the world could bite and that if you didn’t bite back, protect yourself, it would eat you alive. And so that’s what she sang about. The words came out of her, poured out of her as quickly as she could think of them, there was no time for questioning or self-doubt, only to sing. 

The song went on longer than any of the others had. But nobody complained. Killian didn’t stop playing. He didn’t falter, only looking at her encouragingly, a small smile creeping over his face as she went on, laying everything out, speaking her truth, no matter how gritty. She stared at him as she finished. He’d done it again. Somehow he’d managed to find a way to find what was inside of her, what was hiding in the darkness, and bring it to the light. He’d found a way to make her feel comfortable enough to do it. She was a little bit in awe.

“Holy shit,” Liam whispered and that broke the silence that had engulfed the room. 

“Emma, that was fucking awesome!” Ruby cheered. “Please tell me someone got that down!”

Belle held up her phone. “I always record these. It’s where all the best stuff comes out.” 

“No kidding!” David agreed. 

Emma and Killian were still staring at one another. Emma couldn’t help herself. The way he was looking at her, the soft smile on his face, he looked proud of her and it was unsettling how much she liked it. She was proud of herself. He’d helped her get there. He’d known what she needed and he’d given it to her. Not for the first time, it scared her how well he seemed to know her. What scared her more was that she was starting to want him to know her. And, she realised, she wanted to know him too. 

She cleared her throat, unable to hold his gaze any longer. “Game’s not over,” she reminded them. She turned to Ruby, only the three of them were left. 

Emma was eliminated next, faltering over ‘wine Wednesdays’ and turning red remembering the time Ruby had to get a bouncer she knew to throw Emma over his shoulder so they could get her in the cab. It was down to Ruby and Killian now. Ruby just barely managed to make it through a verse about ‘Irishmen’, pointedly not looking at Graham the whole time. But there was an amused sort of fire in her eyes that warned that Killian did not want to go toe to toe with her. She looked him in the eye and smirked. 

“Blondes.”

Ruby won. Killain stuttered, eyes casting far too conspicuously to Emma and then even more conspicuously at anywhere else. It would seem in his desperation to keep their secret, he blanked on anything else to sing about. He admitted defeat gracefully and Ruby less-gracefully threw her hands in the air, letting out a ‘whoop’. She was surrounded by congradulations.

“What’s my prize?” she asked.

Killian considered it. “How about you get to choose what we do tonight with our first night off?”

They agreed this was fair and Ruby immediately looked to Mary Margaret who brightened up. Emma knew where they were going before she said it. 

“Get your stuff!” she ordered before heading straight for the door. “Meet us downstairs in five!” 

Everyone seemed to be okay with just following along with whatever Ruby wanted, even Liam let Belle drag him out of the living area and into the bedroom without question. Killian hung back, waiting for her, looking confused.

“Where are we going?” 

Emma smirked a little. “We’re going to the fair.” 

“The fair?” he looked even more confused and a little nervous. 

“Mhm. I saw the signs advertising it when we first got here. I knew she’d make us go - her or Mary Margaret. They love fairs - amusement parks too. Anything with rides really. Every summer we try find a new one to go to.” She paused, taking in his expression. “Why do you look so freaked out?” 

He looked like he’d really put up a good fight against the blush on his face. She couldn’t tell if he looked more red with embarrassment or white with nerves. He rubbed at the back of his neck before letting his head fall back and confessing. “I hate rides.” 

She felt the smile tugging at the corner of her lips, remembering his reaction to flying. She stepped forward, grabbing the front of his shirt and giving him a little tug until he looked at her. “Come on, you big baby. There are games too, you know. Let’s go and I’ll win you a teddy bear.” 

Killian tried to hide his amusement, determined to only appear annoyed at her teasing but the little upward twitch of his lips gave him away. Finally he lost the battle, offering her a mirthful smile, brows raised. “Promise?”

She nodded. “I’m amazing at carnival games,” she bragged. 

“I don’t doubt it,” he said, suddenly seeming to realise how close she was standing and taking advantage. He slipped his arm around her waist, drew her a little further into him. “Will you win me a big one?”

She raised a brow. “A big one?”

“Aye. I want one of those giant bears that are bigger than me.” His free hand came up to toy with the ends of her hair and Emma let her arms slide up around his shoulders. “I want all the other boys at the fair to be jealous.” 

She laughed. She noticed she’d been doing that a lot more lately. “Alright then, a giant bear it is.” 

He grinned, his arm tightening around her middle as his head bowed, his next words spoken somewhere near her jaw. “How on earth will I possibly thank you?” he asked. She could feel the roughness of his cheek against her own and his breath on her neck and her stomach gave a little flip. She smiled, practically giggling as his lips pressed against her throat. 

They heard the bedroom door open and jumped apart, doing their absolute best to look casual. They were standing way too close. She knew they were because as Liam and Belle stepped out, they hesitated, giving them slightly questioning looks. 

“What are you still doing here?” Liam asked. Emma floundered for a second as Killian stood there completely useless.

“Ruby's making us go to the fair. I'm trying to convince your brother to go on the pendulum ride with me,” she lied. 

Liam barked out a laugh. “Fat chance,” he told her. “I couldn’t even get him to try bumper cars until he was sixteen.” 

“Oy, let’s not make up lies now,” Killian protested, looking annoyed and just embarrassed enough that Emma was pretty sure it wasn’t a lie at all. She smirked. 

As the brothers bickered, Emma turned to Belle, hoping to share in the amusement of watching two grown men acting like children. But Belle was already looking at her, her expression far too knowing and definitely far too pleased. Her gaze flickered to Killian. Emma shifted uncomfortably then cleared her throat, announcing that she would meet them downstairs. That had been way too close.

They decided to walk there since the weather was nice. It wasn’t far, only a few miles and David, apparently annoyingly healthy, active David, had insisted they needed the exercise after so many days sitting on a bus. Emma had thought about protesting but Mary Margaret and Ruby had looped their arms through hers and practically carried her down the street with them.

“I’m so glad we’re still gonna get to do this this summer,” Mary Margaret exclaimed happily.

“Me too,” Ruby agreed. “I thought the tour would mess with our tradition.”

“What tradition is that?” Emma smirked. “You whooping my ass at the balloon pop and Snow eating so much cotton candy that she pukes?”

“Don’t call me that! And I didn’t puke.” She stuck out her tongue at Emma.

“Yes, exactly that tradition,” Ruby smiled a little nostalgically. 

She got it. Ruby wasn’t the sentimental type but the summer that Granny found Emma and Mary Margaret had been a rocky one to say the least. Both of them were teenage girls who didn’t trust easy. They’d moped most of the season until finally, Granny had forced them out of their rooms and out to the small town county fair. Despite their best efforts, the girls hadn’t been able to have a bad time - largely due to Ruby. She was hard not to like. Granny had introduced them to everyone as her kids with no further explanation. It was the first time the three of them had felt like a family and so, sentimental or not, Ruby liked tradition. 

“Do you think they’ll have a tea cup ride?” Mary Margaret asked excitedly. 

“They shouldn’t be allowed to call themselves a fair if they don’t,” Ruby answered. 

“As long as there’s a ferris wheel, I’m happy,” Emma said. 

“You are the most boring person ever,” Ruby teased.

“What? I like ferris wheels!” Emma insisted. Ruby rolled her eyes. She looked over at Killian and Belle who were walking a few paces ahead. She smirked.

“Maybe you’ll find someone to go on it with you,” she hinted suggestively. 

“What do you mean?” Emma asked, heart racing. Shit. Did she know? She couldn’t know. They’d been careful. Maybe not careful enough.

“Nothing. Just, you know, ferris wheels can be awfully romantic.” She winked before looking pointedly at the pair ahead of them again. Emma’s mouth dropped open as she searched for something to say. “Might be nice to have something pretty to look at while you’re on it.” 

“Ruby,” she said seriously, a hint of a smile on her lips. “Belle is married.” 

Ruby threw her head back laughing. She dropped it after that. 

They reached the fair and her friends practically raced off to the ticket booth, coming back with armfulls of tickets. 

Liam looked at them skeptically. “How long are we planning to stay here?”

“Please,” Mary Margaret said. “These will last us an hour if we’re lucky.” 

Liam looked helplessly at Emma. She shrugged. “They take their fair visits very seriously. Blame your brother.” 

“Oy!” Killian called from somewhere behind her. She smirked. 

“What first?” David asked, looking nearly as excited as Mary Margaret to be here. Or maybe he was just excited to be here with her. It was kind of cute actually. 

“Games?” Emma suggested. She definitely didn’t suggest it so that Killian wouldn’t feel left out. She wasn’t that considerate. She caught him smiling softly and she looked away. 

“Yes!” Ruby agreed. She grabbed Graham’s hand. “Come on!” 

The others followed. But Emma caught hold of Killian’s arm. He held back.

“What is it?”

“We need to be more careful. I think Ruby suspects something and your brother almost caught us back at the hotel.” 

He cocked his head. “Is that so bad,” he asked. Of course it was bad, she wanted to say, but he continued. “It’s just sex right? What does it matter if they know. We’re both adults.” 

Emma tried to ignore the way his words affected her. It’s just sex. They were her words, he was merely saying them back to her. Then why did it feel like he’d dumped a bucket of cold water on her? She could feel something prickling under her skin and she didn’t like it. She shook out her hands a little, trying to clear it. 

“Swan?” he asked, looking concerned now. 

“No, you’re right. It’s just… I know my friends. They’ll make a big deal out of it and I don’t want to deal with that right now.” It was the truth, but it felt heavy and wrong on her tongue. It’s just sex, she repeated to herself. What the hell is wrong with you? 

“Understood,” he nodded. “I’ll be more careful.”

“Thank you.” 

They headed off after their group, realising that hanging back alone was a little too conspicuous. They had nearly caught up when Killian grabbed her, pulling her behind a booth. 

“What are you -” 

He took hold of her face with both hands and pressed his lips to hers. She was shocked for a moment - how the hell was this in keeping with their ‘be more discreet’ agreement? - but then his mouth opened over hers and she reacted instinctively, grabbing hold of his hips and finding his tongue with her own. He only kissed her for a second, pulling back and leaving her standing there with her mouth open, gaping like an idiot. He was grinning from ear to ear, looking way too smug for her liking.

“Killian!” Her voice was higher and a little rougher than she’d intended. “What the hell was -” 

“Shh,” he hushed, bringing a finger to his lips. “It’s a secret. We don’t want the others to hear.” He winked and then backed away, heading back after the group. “Don’t follow right away. We wouldn’t want them to get suspicious.” She stared at him in disbelief - at how boyish and giddy he looked. 

“Oh fucking hell,” she groaned. “I just gave you a challenge didn’t I?” He walked away, shooting her a goofy smile, eyebrows waggling. She definitely didn’t feel as annoyed as she wanted to. 

They played a few games, the ring toss and balloon pop (Ruby did, in fact, whoop Emma’s ass again), and skeeball. The entire time Killian made a point to continue this secrecy challenge. Twice she felt his hand on her ass while they were playing a game or chatting with the others, only to look up and find him looking very invested in what someone was saying, the picture of innocence. She’d created a monster. 

Killian was surprisingly good at all of the games and it was really starting to get on Emma’s nerves. Particularly because she was playing so poorly - which was entirely due to her opponent's wandering hands. She missed the balloon completely when she felt his fingers brush at the skin of her hip bone.  She hadn’t beat him at a single one yet. The dirty cheater. He was getting really cocky about it too. 

Belle and Liam had gone off to see what kind of show was going on at the stage and David had taken Mary Margaret away to feed her when Emma spotted it: a shooting game. It was one of those dinky little things where you were given a pellet gun and had to knock down as many moving targets as possible. Emma smirked. Time to knock the cocky grin right off of Killian’s face. 

“Okay show-off, think you can hold your own at this one?” She was trying to provoke him. 

He eyed it. “Absolutely,” he answered confidently. “Prepare to have your ass handed to you, Swan.” 

She caught Ruby’s eye and the two exchanged grins. “Really?” Emma asked. “Care to put a little wager on that?” 

He smirked. “What did you have in mind?”

Emma gave the man in the booth her tickets. “If you win, I will admit, on stage at the next show, that you’re far superior at all games than I am.” He looked happy with that offer. “If I win, you have to go on whatever ride I pick.”

He didn’t even think about it. “Deal. You do remember I was in the navy, don’t you?” he said, the arrogance heavy in his voice. He was handed his pellet gun and took his turn. He hit seven out of the ten targets. He looked very pleased with himself. “I very much look forward to our next show.” 

Emma only smiled as she was handed her own pellet gun. “You’ve been out of the navy for what, ten years?” She could feel Ruby smiling behind her, could hear Graham asking her what was up, wanting to be let in on the joke. Killian nodded. She shot him a cunning grin. “I never told you what I do for a living, did I?” And with that, Emma whirled on the targets and shot down all ten of them in as many rapid shots. 

She didn’t bother to hide her smugness as she turned back to her friends, resting the fake rifle on her hip. Killian was staring at the targets with wide eyes, his mouth slack-jawed. He looked at her with wonder and amazement and maybe a tiny bit of fear. Graham was laughing so hard he was doubled over, clutching at his stomach.

“What the bloody hell do you do for a living?” Emma only smiled as she was handed the giant teddy bear, the one that was bigger than Killian. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She handed him the bear. He was still standing there dumbfounded. Graham was still laughing.

Graham was more than happy to recall the entire story to the rest of their friends when they met up for hotdogs and fries a little later, making a point to include Killian’s paralyzing fear of carnival rides. Liam teased the hell out of his brother, accusing him of forgetting everything he’d taught him but backing down when Killian challenged him to the game. Emma didn’t participate much in the conversation. She was too distracted by the feeling of Killian’s fingers on her inner thigh under the table, which had been boldy creeping higher and higher since they sat down. They were nearly at the seam of her jeans when someone called her name. It sounded like it wasn’t the first time they’d said it.

“Sorry, what?” His hand squeezed her thigh.

“I was just asking what ride you were going to take Killian on,” Belle said eagerly. 

“I don’t know,” Emma mused. “Maybe something easy like the teacups,” she said, but then his hand creeped up higher, making it difficult for her to keep her breath steady. She glared at him. “Or maybe he wants to try the Gravitron.” His hand dropped back to her knee. 

“Yes! You should definitely take him on the Gravitron!” Mary Margaret exclaimed. “That’s the best ride in the park!”

“I love that one!” David agreed, already hyped up. There was a consensus around the table. 

“I think it’s time we went on some rides,” Ruby decreed. “Come on, let’s pop Killian’s zero-gravity cherry.” Killian’s hand tightened on her knee then, and she was pretty sure this time it was out of fear rather than an attempt to drive her insane. She looked at him, he looked nervous. He’d been an ass but she took pity on him. 

“Nah, you guys go ahead. I think I’ll start him off on something a little tamer. I don’t want him puking on me,” she said. This time the squeeze was a thank you. The others headed off towards the braver rides and Emma and Killian set off to find something easier, Killian towing his giant pink bear along with them. 

“You know, you’re not making this whole secret thing easy,” she pointed out.

He turned wide, innocent eyes on her. “What do you mean? I’ve been the picture of discreet. Nobody suspects a thing.” He leaned down then, his breath hot on her ear as they walked. “Besides, it’s been quite fun watching you get flustered all night.” 

The asshole, she thought. She knew he’d been doing it on purpose but to hear him admit it made her feel annoyed and angry and… wanting. She wanted him. A lot. Right now. But mostly, it made her want revenge. They’d wandered near the edge of the booths which backed up into a small wooded area and Emma saw her chance. She put her hands on his chest and pushed him back, away from the lights of the carnival and into the cluster of trees where the neon glow was barely a suggestion. He stumbled back, questioning sounds leaving his lips until his back collided with a tree trunk and she pressed herself against him. 

“Swan, what -” 

She cut him off, slanting her lips over his and grabbing hold of the loops in the back of his jeans, pulling his hips into her own. His startled groan turned into a dirty growl as his arms came up around her back, trapping her within them and tilting her head back so he could explore her mouth deeper. Emma nearly allowed herself to get lost in it. He was such a goddamn good kisser and the way his hips were grinding into her own, his hand sliding down to her ass, grabbing hold of it to pull her almost harshly against him sent heat shooting through every fiber of her body. Ugh - she wanted him. But she wanted to make him to pay more.  

The feel of his growing erection pressed against her stomach reminded her of her goal and she moved her lips to his neck, nipping and licking at his jaw as she wormed her hand down between them. She heard the gasp that caught in his throat as she palmed him through his jeans. His head fell back against the bark and his hands dropped to her sides, giving her room to continue. He let out desperate noises as she stroked him a few times, waiting until she could feel how painfully hard he must be before stepping back. 

The look of pure shock and dismay on his face as he watched her back away, back towards the carnival made the ache in her stomach and between her legs worth it. Gotcha. She smirked. 

“Swan, what…” He couldn’t even string a sentence together and it made her feel way, way too smug. It was nice to know, she thought, that she apparently had the same effect on him as he had on her. 

“Don't play with fire unless you’re willing to get your fingers burnt,” she taunted, practically giddy with female pride and at getting him back for all his teasing. 

She turned around and headed for the bright lights as though nothing had happened. She didn’t get far, hadn’t left the cover of the trees before his arm snaked around her belly, pulling her back against him. She could still feel his hardness pressed against her back. His hand slid up to her breast, fingers finding her nipple through the fabric of her shirt and she forgot she was annoyed with him for a second, her head falling back against his shoulder. An embarrassing sound left her. 

“That’s bad form, Emma,” he told her, his voice raspy against her ear. “Leaving a man like that.” His hips pushed up against her back and she forced herself to remember exactly how intentionally riled up he’d gotten her for his own amusement. 

“Worse form than spending the whole night getting a girl - what did you call it, flustered? - with no follow through?” 

He hummed in her ear. “You’re right, Swan, that was very wrong of me.” His teeth scraped at her ear, pulling the lobe into his mouth. His thumb didn’t stop its assault on her breast. “Allow me to make it up to you.” His other hand started inching its way towards the waistband of her jeans and Emma was pretty sure she was about to let him fuck her right here in the woods when the were interrupted by a giggle and some branches snapping. Someone spoke. They froze, desire turning to adrenaline as she prayed that nobody would see them. It was a second before Emma recognized the voice. 

“Shh, someone will hear us,” Mary Margaret said. It sounded like she was dragging an equally giddy David into the woods with her to do… well, exactly what she and Killian had been trying to do. Killian released her then. Apparently, knowing that their friends were getting it on a few yards away had the same effect on him as it had on her. She turned to him and he had a funny grin on his face when she met his eyes. It was a little awkward between them for a moment but then they heard what sounded a lot like a moan and they burst out laughing, both doing their best to muffle their laughter and not give themselves away. Killian tilted his head towards the fair and Emma nodded, the two heading back towards the crowds as silently as possible. Killian didn’t forget his bear.

“So, what have you chosen as my punishment?” he asked as they reached the rides. He looked a little nervous but also resigned to his fate. She decided to be kind. He had, after all, helped her find her way back to writing today.

“Think you can handle the ferris wheel?” she asked, with a raised brow. 

He looked relieved. “Aye. That I can do.” 

They reached the attraction and handed over their tickets. Killian nearly got into an argument with the teenager operating the ride about whether or not he could take his bear with them. 

“It sits three!” he insisted. He won eventually, settling in the seat with Emma to his left and the giant pink monstrosity to his right. 

“Are you really going to carry that thing with you all night?” 

“Of course I am. I told you, Swan, I want to be the envy of every man here.” 

Emma rolled her eyes and the bench gave a little lurch as the ride started. Emma loved the ferris wheel. She loved being so high up, getting to see so much of the town around her all at once. For someone who had never gone much further west, north, or south than New York, it felt like she had the whole world at her fingertips. The ride stopped, leaving them stuck near the very top. She loved it when it did that. It was her favorite part. She looked out at the horizon, a happy smile on her face.

“What are you thinking?” Killian asked, his voice soft beside her. She didn’t want to tell him. He’d seen so much of the world and she felt small and boring for having been so confined to one place - so stuck. She knew he wouldn’t judge her, but she still wanted him to… she didn’t know. Find her interesting? She didn’t know how to handle that feeling. She’d never wanted anything from any man. Never cared what they thought of her. But she cared what Killian thought. 

She gave him a wry smile, deciding on a white lie. “I was thinking that I can’t believe David and Mary Margaret are banging in the woods right now.” 

He laughed. “I can’t say I’m surprised. Those two have been all over each other.” 

“I am!” she countered. “You don’t know Mary Margaret like I do. Sex in the woods is not her style. Casual sex in general isn’t really her style.” She smiled a little thinking of her glacial moving friend who insisted on love before sex. “That’s more the kind of thing I’d have expected from Ruby and Graham.” 

Killian’s eyes widened. “What?” 

“Ruby and Graham,” she repeated. “They’re like ‘together’ I think. You must have noticed.” 

He seemed genuinely surprised. “I didn’t know it was serious! I thought that was just her personality.” She quirked an eyebrow. “The flirting I mean. She flirted with me!” Emma bit back her smile. Every man in the world thought Ruby flirted with them. 

“Sure she did,” she teased. 

“She did!” he insisted. “Poor Graham,” he said then, shaking his head. “She’s gonna eat him alive.” Emma nearly laughed, remembering having that exact thought.

“I dunno,” she said honestly. “I think she really likes him. I haven’t seen her like this since…” she paused, a frown crossing her brow as she tried to remember Ruby being this infatuated, this happy. “Actually I don’t think I’ve ever seen her like this.”

“She might be good for him,” he said thoughtfully. “The last woman he was with nearly ripped out his heart. Ruby seems kind, protective.” 

Killian smiled and Emma took a minute to just think about her friends, time to enjoy the contentedness and the peace it brought her to see them so happy. It was then that Emma realised something. She was happy. It came as a surprise. She hadn’t been particularly unhappy before. She’d been comfortable with her life, satisfied for the most part and resigned to the fact that this was all she was going to get. But there had been something missing. Music had been missing, adventure had been missing, fun had been missing. 

She realised then that the person who had brought all of those things back into her life was sitting next to her now, holding a stupid, monsterous bear. It hit her like a blow to the chest, but rather than knock her back, rather than scare her, she felt it spread through her limbs, into her fingers and warm her from the inside as she turned to look at him. He was staring out at the city below them with a slight sort of amazement in his eyes and she wondered for a moment, not for the first time, if maybe he understood her more than she thought. She put her hand over his where it rested on the safety bar. He looked up at her. 

“I never said thank you. For helping me today.”

He gave her a half smile. “Think nothing of it,” he said. He leaned in a bit, his next words coming out with plain honesty. “I like helping you, Emma. I like writing with you, spending time with you.” He paused then and something crossed his face, something soft and a little vulnerable. “I like y-” she cut him off, pressing her lips to his. Please don’t say it. She couldn’t hear it. If he said it… if he said it then this would be over. Their rules were clear and if he - she didn’t want it to be over. 

For a moment she thought he would protest but then he brought his hand to her cheek and kissed her back, letting her silence him. Thank you, she wanted to say again. The ride started once more, giving a slight jerk and Killian pulled back quickly. She was a little disappointed until he smiled deviously at her. 

“Well now every man here is definitely jealous of me.” He pulled the bear from where it was sitting beside him and propped it in his lap, it’s stupidly massive size effectively hiding their faces from any onlookers. “Can’t be too careful,” he reminded her before pressing his lips to hers again. 

She smiled. Idiot. 

[ilovemygaydad]

title: sticks and stones may break my bones, and you can always hurt me

pairing: logicality

warnings (read them because they are important): internal aphobia, mentions of abuse, panic attacks, lots of self hate, internal homophobia, mentions of corrective rape, mentions of verbal abuse, mentions of physical abuse, mentions of kissing, anger, threats, mentions of abusive relationships, lying, mentions of overdose, mentions of death, mentions of abusive families, crying, swearing, miscommunication, things are worded to make it seem like a fight but it isn’t, and possibly something else (let me know if something needs to be tagged)

summary: patton needs to come out to his boyfriend, which may seem redundant, but it sure as hell isn’t

word count: 1.5k

inspired by @today-only-happens-once‘s story “exposure therapy,” which I love with all of my heart!

a/n: is this good? probably not, but then again, when is anything that I write?

Patton paced in front of the door to his apartment, wringing his hands. It was silly--he knew that he was being silly--yet his mind wouldn’t lend itself reprieve from the awful thoughts. But at the same time, he needed to prepare himself for all situations. Yes, he trusted Logan more than anyone else on the planet, but he was always told that he trusted too easy, and he’d been burned more often than he’d like to admit. There was no telling what could happen when the truth came out; all he could do was hope that it wouldn’t be one of the worse options.

Like, he really hoped that Logan wouldn’t get mad and say, “so you were leading me on for three years?!” Or that he wouldn’t tell him that asexuality doesn’t exist, and that Patton needs to get over himself and grow up--which was honestly likely seeing as Patton was always called childish. And he really hoped that Logan wouldn’t try--try to--

He just hoped. That was all that he could do because he didn’t have time to put off coming out any longer. When Logan had first started dating Patton, he’d just escaped a physically abusive relation, and he was still relearning where his boundaries were. Selfishly, Patton was happy that Logan had given him the perfect excuse to never need to say that he was asexual, but the time had come when Logan had become comfortable with himself and would inevitably want to go further. And it wasn’t fair to either of them for Patton to hide behind a mask.

Patton ran his hands down his face. He could do this. All he needed was another few minutes to prepare, and he’d march right into his apartment and--

The door to the apartment swung open, and Patton screeched in horror as Logan’s head peeked out.

“Patton, dear, why are you pacing outside of our apartment? Did you get locked out?”

The man in question opened his mouth to answer his boyfriend, but instead blurted out, “I’m asexual. I’m never going to want to have sex with you. I’m so sorry for leading you on, and I know I’m being ridiculous--I really do--but please just--I just--I can’t keep lying to you. I know that you’re probably really upset, which is fair, but--”

“Patton--”

“I love you so much, and I don’t--”

“Patton!” Logan cried, and Patton’s mouth snapped shut immediately. “Oh, god, Patton.”

And Logan was… laughing for some reason.

“Wh-Why are you laughing?”

Logan wheezed and gently rubbed at his eyes as he attempted to pull himself together. “I apologize. This is a very serious moment, and I shouldn’t be laughing, but I just--me too.”

“Me too… what?” Patton asked, tilting his head in confusion.

“I’m asexual.”

The puzzle pieces all fell into place before Patton’s eyes. “Oh,” he said plainly.

It certainly made sense. Logan hadn’t given many details of his previous relationships, but Patton knew that they all ended with a nasty breakup. With the last boyfriend, Logan had said that he’d physically abused him to the point that he had to get a therapist and spend time in the hospital. It had been made very clear from the beginning that Logan would be the one to set the pace of the relationship as he continued to heal, which was completely fine with both parties. For a long time, he didn’t even want to be touched, and he refused to watch many mainstream movies rated above PG because they had content that was “highly uncomfortable” for him to watch. Short kisses were preferred, and cuddling took over a year to be introduced in their relationship.

“‘Oh’ indeed,” Logan chuckled. He gently took Patton’s hand and began to lead him into their apartment. “Now that we have the air cleared, why were you standing outside of our apartment? Why not come inside?”

Patton stiffened, and it took every ounce of control in his body not to tear himself away from Logan. “It’s nothing, sweetheart. I was just caught up in my thoughts.”

“Falsehood. What’s wrong?” Logan turned Patton so they were facing each other, so Patton put on his sunniest smile before responding.

“Really, it’s nothing. Just some things at work that I need to remember to do.”

Logan’s lips turned down at the corners. “Patton, I have multiple degrees in psychology, and your body language and blatant lying suggest that you aren’t okay.” His eyes turned pleading. “Please, tell me what’s bothering you.”

“I…”

What the hell was he supposed to tell Logan? ‘Well, I was worried that you’d hate me or break up with me or rape me when I came out to you as asexual, but it’s no big deal! Let’s go make dinner together because that’s what couples who trust and love each other do’? Yeah, because that would be a great way to end the evening. On the curb not because his partner didn’t accept his sexuality, but because Patton was too untrusting to think that Logan wouldn’t pull something when he came out.

Patton was weak and pathetic and just didn’t deserve love. That much was obvious from the horrible deck that he was dealt. Asexuality and gayness and mental health issues and stupidity and poor judgement. His life was meant to end in a ditch, overdosing on alcohol because he couldn’t trust the one good man that he’d found. Maybe, all those years back, his parents were right to throw him out as soon as he turned eighteen because they knew that their son was destined for an early grave, and it’d be so much easier to just start fresh with their problem child being little more than a distant memory.

“...Pat…atton are...kay…?”

Huh, Patton thought as the world slowly refocused. Logan looks upset.

“...need you to...with me...aving...panic attack…”

Panic attack.

Oh.

He was having a panic attack.

“...four, sev…eight...just like th...you’re doing great…”

After a few minutes of breathing exercises, Patton had regained his ability to see and hear properly. At some point, Logan had lowered them to the ground so they were sitting in the middle of the floor. Patton picked at the skin around his nails. He didn’t want to look at Logan’s face.

“Do you want to tell me what got you so upset? You don’t have to, and I’m certainly not going to force you; I just wish to know so that I may avoid it in the future, okay?” Logan asked in the same soft, quiet voice that he used on his nephews.

“Don’ tr’s you,” Patton mumbled in response, eliciting a sigh from Logan.

“Would you please repeat that?”

“I don’ trust you.”

“Don’t trust me about what?”

Patton moved his gaze to where the floor met the wall. “I thought you were gonna hurt me or somethin’ ‘cause ‘m ace.”

“I see.” Logan’s voice had gone clinically cold--so much so that Patton’s eyes snapped up to Logan’s face. His facial features looked calm at a glance, but the miniscule twitch of his right eyebrow and slightly clenched jaw betrayed the cool façade and exposed the true anger he was feeling.

“‘m sorry. Gimme a day, and ‘ll get my stuff out ‘f the apartment. I just need time to find a place--”

“Who hurt you?”

Patton’s mouth hung open in shock for a few moments before he choked out a tiny, “what?”

“Who hurt you to make you fear that I would do something so god-awful to you because of your sexuality? How many times has this happened in the past?” Logan’s voice echoed down the hallway as his volume rose. “Who did this to you?”

“Lo, we don’t--it’s not a big deal--”

“Not a big deal?!” Logan cried in frustration and anger. “Of fucking course it’s a big deal, Patton! It’s a big deal because neither you nor I should feel as though we’re going to be assaulted for coming out. We don’t deserve to have to be scared because we’re good people. You are one of the kindest, trusting people that I know, and somebody along the way fucked you up so badly that you became afraid to take both feet out of the closet!”

“I’m sorry,” Patton whispered, hunching in on himself as tears welled up in his eyes.

“No, wait--damn it--I didn’t--hold on. I’m not mad at you. I swear, honey; I’m not. Just--can I hug you?”

Patton gently nodded his head, and Logan quickly pulled him into his arms.

“I could never be mad at you, okay? I’m just so angry at the people who hurt us along the way. It isn’t fair that the fear has become so normal to us.”

“I know,” Patton murmured into Logan’s shirt.

“I’m going to track down anyone who hurt you and beat them up.”

That forced a tiny smile out of Patton. “I don’t think that’s allowed, Lo.”

“I don’t give a damn. I’m going to do it.”

“Okay, hon.” Patton snuggled closer. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

[thisnerdsadventures]

i graduated.

i graduated yesterday from MIT!! with a BS in computer science and engineering :)  a few of my friends and i celebrated over zoom with my mom in the background as they played video after video on the commencement live stream while only taking 10 minutes to scroll through our names lmao. the ceremony was done and done after 12pm PST, and i spent the rest of the days watching suits.

cw: protests, police brutality

I wanted to spend a good amount of this post talking about how it feels to graduate and what I’ve learned over the past 4 years. I’m still going to do that, but I want to start with how I felt this morning, as I watched protest videos on Twitter and tapped through an endless stream of call to action posts on Instagram. In the hours around commencement, I didn’t feel as happy as I should’ve, probably because the world we are graduating into is an actual Hot mess. We should’ve graduated onto Killian Court, with the sun out and hope and optimism with the world smiling upon us, but instead we graduated at home, separated by a global pandemic that our country refuses to take seriously and surrounded by protests and anger and racism, sent out into a world where people refuse to take a virus that has killed over 100,000 people in the US seriously and where a white police officer can literally kill an unarmed black man on the streets in broad daylight and nothing will happen without an actual public uproar. 

Frustrated, helpless, sad, angry are a few of the things I’m feeling. I feel frustrated because I know the community I grew up in and currently am in is a part of the problem. (For those of you who don’t know, I grew up in Orange County, California, which is surprisingly conservative for California, and has a lot of middle to upper class Asian and white people who are the types to denounce things like affirmative action, black lives matter, taxing the wealthy. Obviously not everyone here is like this, but actions like this make me remember why i wanted to leave :/ -- https://www.reddit.com/r/orangecounty/comments/gt7ift/oc_sheriff_department_raises_blue_lives_matters/) And I feel helpless because I don’t know how to help - if we were back on campus, we’d take the T out to Park St or even just walk there to Boston Common protesting, marching to City Hall, but we’re dispersed now, and not as many of us can drive out to the nearest big city protest, esp with COVID. So it begs the question of what we can do from our laptops, our homes?

Here’s some links that I’ve seen recently and have found really great:

Where you can donate, and where you can learn, a summary.

The Minnesota Freedom Fund is an organization that helps pay for immigration bonds and bails, but I think they’ve recently posted that they’ve gotten a lot of donations, and are now encouraging people to donate to other local organizations [x] and George Floyd’s family [x]. 

As an Asian-American, I recognize the privileges in society that we benefit from, and it’s our responsibility to stand up in solidarity now and actively fight anti-Blackness today. Here is an awesome Medium post I read yesterday, listing out some of the ways we can help -- https://medium.com/awaken-blog/20-allyship-actions-for-asians-to-show-up-for-the-black-community-right-now-464e5689cf3e

One thing that I’ve been thinking about lately is how much anti-blackness actually appears in our own families and communities - I know I’ve heard many many racist comments from the people around me, so now more than ever, it’s important to have these conversations and educate one another on how we can do better. Another thing I found really interesting was reading about where the model minority myth came from, why it exists, and the damage it does. NPR article. tl;dr educate one another, educate oneself

I also just stumbled upon this google doc that is so in depth, so if you want to read more about more actions you can take, look here -> [x]

welp. that’s all i can really say on that, or at least I think the links do a better job.

1) So going off of that, the first thing i guess i can say MIT did for me was instill a drive to action. I remember before college, I was mostly in this socal bubble, shit in the world definitely happened (ok maybe not global pandemic level) but we didn’t see its effects as much. When I moved to Boston and started meeting people from different backgrounds, that changed. These people here are so inspiring in the way that they don’t sit around or mope or ignore the problem, they choose to do something about it, whether its a pset, the next MIT admin shitshow, or COVID. They go up and beyond what’s expected for them to make the world the better place, and I think that’s something i learned to do a bit of.

2) Another thing I learned was to forgive myself - we all have to forgive ourselves for being less perfect and for whatever dumb stuff we’ve done in the past. Like you might not even realize it’s happening to you, but taking stuff out on yourself way harder than you should might be a product of you just being angry at yourself for mistakes in the past. Everyone wants to be perfect, that’s just a product of who we are as people, a product of the environment we’re in. But the sooner we forgive ourselves for not being perfect, the faster we can move to growing and being better.

3) We are all pretty valuable people. It angers me to no end when people settle for less than they should, whether it's out of fear that something else might not come along, or they just don’t know their own self-worth. A big example of that is how often people will accept lowball offers and fail to negotiate salaries at all. And it drives me up the wall that it happens to people I know and love because it makes me wonder if they can see how much they really are worth. So much of our time at MIT is spent just wondering if we’re enough. But once you leave the MIT bubble, you realize how open you options are, and that maybe we should spend more of our time advocating for ourselves and believing in our own worth than letting people define that for us.

4 and 5) i learned that moving too quick to label people as completely good or completely bad never ends well. Same goes for companies, organizations, issues, everything. This was a hard lesson to learn, I had to learn it, relearn it, unlearn it, learn it again, and I made mistakes after mistakes after mistakes. When confronted with a bit of bad, I closed my doors, thinking I had all the good in the world I needed. But what I really needed was perspective. That maybe there was some x, y, and z, and those were bad, but there was also a, b, c, d, f, g and those were all so, so good. I can get pretty angry in the moment - I did this again just the other day, when I was projecting my anger towards someone to the whole two year relationship. But this time, I had another friend watching my situation on a balcony three floors up who heard and listened to all the good they had done for me and reminded me about it. This is why its points 4 and 5, that its also so important to have friends around that will listen to you, not just during the bad, but also the good, so they can tell you when you’re being irrational and to really be there for you when you dont even know you need someone to be there.

6) one of the things i learned the hard way was how to know when someone is your friend, and how to know when friends truly have your back. something that my experiences have shown me (and 11.011, ngl) is that when it seems like someone has your back, they might not, and when they have to choose sides, they may very well not choose yours. But here’s the thing I have learned: when faced with that, good close friends do not leave. They show up. Do friends fight? hell yeah. and they apologize and grow from it. They confide in you and answer your call at 1am. They know you better than you know yourself, so when you start losing sight of your true self, they remind you. There is no condition to your friendship, no prereq. When a crisis happens like COVID, they show up, they help you pack, they calm you down when you’re panicking, and if they’re not there in person, they reach out, they ask how you’re doing, and they offer support. When you graduate, they send you surprise gifts or join your zoom party or at the very least, remember the date and text you congratulations. Turns out, good, real friends are hard to find in this world, but it’s important to remember to not give up on finding them. it might take a couple years longer than you had thought it would for finding friends in college, but that’s ok. someone once told me that although the journey was hard, it led me to this point, and that that’s what made it worth the struggle.

So yeah, graduating was a lot to deal with. I’ll be back in the fall for my masters and im starting my internship in 2 weeks, so there will still definitely be updates on this nerd’s adventure!

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Three Hundred Fifty-Four: A Small Notebook ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Uchiha Itachi, Hyūga Hanabi ] [ SasuHina, gore ] [ Verse: When Dead Walk ] [ AO3 Link ]

Quick, and quiet: that’s the name of the game.

It’s only been a handful of days since two duos became a quad. A few days since Sasuke was on a supply run in the nearby town, set off a booby trap, and ended up getting his ass saved by a woman wielding a shovel, of all things.

It...wasn’t his proudest moment.

But there’d been little time to think of pride when the pair took off together to escape the suburb, only stopping to be suspicious once they were safe. A shaky truce got Sasuke a ride home, and the Hyūga sisters a place to stay for the night.

After some discussion between Sasuke, Itachi, Hinata, and Hanabi...they decided that it would be safer to face the zombie apocalypse together. Many hands make light work, after all...even if it also means more mouths to feed.

And the first test their new team is facing is yet another supply run: mostly to help beef up their defenses, and ensure they won’t starve any time soon. Itachi and Hanabi have been dropped off at a hardware store to find tools, and anything else useful to fortify the farmhouse they’ve come to call home. Being in a rather business-driven part of town, there’s hope that it won’t be too crawling with walkers...given Hanabi’s youth, and Itachi’s frailty.

Thankfully they already set up a noise trap on the other side: a jammed car horn to draw any nearby zombies away, and hopefully keep them out of the survivors’ way.

It’s Hinata and Sasuke that are left to comb through houses in search of anything else they’ll need, but primarily food. Both fitter and stronger than their siblings, they have better odds at surviving a run-in with any undead. And given that the residential areas are far more crawling with them...they’re already on their guard when they pull up to the first house.

“All right...we’ll leave the car here and go on foot. Go down this street, cut to the next, and then circle back around. Primary objectives are food, clothes, ways to make fire...stuff like that. Try not to pick up anything too miscellaneous.”

“You talk like I haven’t d-done this before,” Hinata offers in the wake of Sasuke’s little speech. But her tone isn’t aggressive. “...sorry. I’m just nervous.”

“...worried about Hanabi?”

“...yeah.”

“Well, the faster we comb through these, the better. Shouldn’t take us too long, so long as we keep on our toes.”

Nodding, Hinata follows as Sasuke makes his way to the first house. Most places are unlocked, given the sense of panic most felt. Any that happen to be closed up tight get picked. He’s gotten rather good at it.

But their first target is wide open, and the pair immediately begin sweeping. Almost unspokenly, they split up, each taking one side of the first floor. Sasuke has a pistol with a handful of shots, Hinata armed with a knife. Not wholly ideal, but...it’s all they’ve got.

It’s Sasuke who finds the kitchen, opening up all the cabinets before beginning to go through them. Anything with long shelf life gets picked up first, slung into his backpack.

“Hey, I found a duffle bag.”

Glancing up, he considers it. Sure, they’ll be able to carry more...but it’ll also take a hand to carry. Maybe two if it gets too heavy. “...all right, we’ll take it for now. I guess if it gets to be too much, we can leave it and grab it next time.”

“Or leave it by the curb and throw it in when we d-drive by.”

He blinks. “...or that.”

Once the kitchen is thoroughly raided, they scope out anything else of use. Hinata already took a decent supply of clothes and spare cloth. But Sasuke finds a jackpot, unable to help a soft, low whistle.

“What?”

“Bow. And a decent quiver of arrows, too.”

Hinata steps up beside him, head tilted curiously. “You know how to shoot one?”

“I had a small one when I was a kid. Been a while, but I can relearn. And unlike a gun, it’s both silent, and reusable ammo...so long as the arrow doesn’t break. Easier to make new ones than a bullet, at any rate.”

“That’s awesome. I think there’s a s-sporting good store somewhere. There might be more.”

“Excellent.” Looping both the bow and quiver over his shoulder, Sasuke helps her finish the house before moving to the next, the duffle bag already full of food and left along the curb as Hinata suggested.

The next place is about the same. Food, clothes, but nothing else of real interest.

“Oh…”

“What?”

When Hinata doesn’t answer, Sasuke turns to find her with a small notebook in her hands. “...what is it?”

“...someone’s journal.”

“...I don’t think we have a use for it, unless the pages can be used to start the fires.”

She gives him a hint of a look. “...it’ll fit in my pocket.”

“Why?”

“...because they’re probably gone. Maybe I just w-want to read it.”

“...fine, whatever. Come on, next house.”

And so it goes until they reach the end of the block. By some miracle, almost every house has some kind of bag or suitcase that they also load up, hefting to the curb before they circle back around. By then, the afternoon is starting to grow old, and they quietly drive around the street before heading back toward the belly of the town to pick up their siblings.

“I can’t believe how much we got…!” Sasuke can’t help but muse aloud.

“Nice having a c-car, huh?”

“And an extra pair of eyes and hands, yeah. Thanks.”

“Guess it was a good idea to team up, huh?”

“...oh, shit…”

Slowing to a stop, Hinata stares with horrified eyes at the front of the hardware store. A small crowd of zombies is gathered, and over their grunting and yelling, they can both vaguely hear an alarm through the car door.

“...they must have gone into a room still wired,” Hinata muses, scrambling to get out.

“Wait!”

“For what?! My baby sister is in there!”

“I know that! But unless we do this smart, they won’t be coming back out alive. The windows and door are still intact. We have time. Now...we’ll each come at them from a side. Divide and conquer, all right?”

“..right.”

“I’ll take the left. Remember, they’re slow, so just keep your distance. Manage them one at a time as best you can.”

Not replying, Hinata gets out of the car, crouched and quiet. But even so, the undead and the alarm are far louder.

Leaving the bow behind until he can practice, Sasuke instead takes out a pair of knives, one in each hand. Never before has he been so glad to be ambidextrous. Heart pounding but breath calm, he circles around before finding the zombie furthest back. With a grunt and a thrust, he buries a blade into the base of its skull. Like a puppet with cut strings, it goes limp.

Out of sight of the rest, he isn’t noticed.

On the other side, Hinata begins doing the same, doing her best to be accurate and yet quick. The more they can take down from the rear unnoticed, the easier this will be.

She gets two, and Sasuke four before the rest begin to realize that there are more living, breathing humans behind them. Turning and reaching, they single-mindedly zero in on their new prey.

It’s a bit harder to kill them from the front. Eyes flickering across his targets, Sasuke braces a palm against a brow, his other hand digging a dagger into its temple before tossing it aside. Glancing behind to make sure he isn’t going to sandwich himself into more undead, he simply keeps leading them on, taking them out as he’s able.

Hinata likewise singles out one zombie at a time...but more of the group end up following her than they do Sasuke.

“Hinata!”

“I-I’m fine! Just keep going!”

Teeth grit, he starts going a bit faster, a bit riskier. Once his side is cleared, he goes to assist only to come up short.

Itachi has opened the door, peering out with Hanabi right beside him.

“Get into the car! Both of you! We’ll clear them out and then go!”

“Here!” Dashing across the gap with Hanabi under his arm, Itachi hands Sasuke something gun-shaped. “It runs off canisters - there’s a whole pallet of them in the rear. That’s what set off the alarm, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“Should we grab -?”

“We’ll worry about supplies once this mob is gone. I want you two in the car until they’re dead. No risks.”

Looking ready to argue, Itachi nonetheless bites his tongue, guiding Hanabi into the vehicle.

It’s then Sasuke looks to his hand. It’s...a nail gun?

...oh, this is gonna be good.

Armed, Sasuke sprints to Hinata, still with a decent crowd in her wake. Aiming, he fires a bolt into a head. The rotting flesh and bone splatters, and the zombie collapses.

The gun, however, is far from quiet, and most turn to the sound.

“Sasuke -?”

“It’s fine! Keep taking them out, we’re almost done!”

Resolve renewed, Hinata digs her blade into another skull, Sasuke carefully aiming and removing the rest, not wanting a stray nail to hit her. A mere two minutes later, it’s over.

...for now.

“All right. We gotta move. Let’s grab what they found, and head out.”

“Is that a nail gun…?”

“Yeah. I’ll get some more nails and air canisters. You grab the tools. All that ruckus is gonna draw in any stragglers, we can’t waste any time.”

Between the two of them, they manage to load up a box of nails and air each, along with various tools for construction, landscaping, and what can very well be used as weapons. By then, a few more dead begin to wander in, and they retreat to the car.

Hinata slips into the driver’s seat, revving the engine and carefully moving out of the lot, not wanting to damage the car or make any more noise than they must. A few undead slap at the doors on their way by, but a few minutes later, they’re in the clear.

“...well, that wasn’t too bad,” Itachi notes jovially, earning a look from Sasuke in the back seat.

“You were almost overrun -”

“But we weren’t. And by the looks of things, we all did well. In the grand scheme...that was a very good run. And we learned something for next time.”

Sighing...Sasuke doesn’t have a retort.

It’s mid afternoon when they return, everyone helping to unload the supplies into the house. Itachi was right. It’s a damn good haul, all things considered. Beyond the rogue alarm, it went about as smoothly as they could hope.

They eat a decent meal of noodles and canned vegetables, telling stories of their lives before the fall as the sun sets. Once they’re full and tired, they begin to retreat to their rooms.

Hanabi heads upstairs, Itachi rolling over on his makeshift mattress. But Hinata and Sasuke sit by the fire, quiet. And eventually, he notices that she’s reading the journal.

“...anything interesting?”

“Mm...no. Just...typical life things,” she replies, still reading. “...and yet it seems so...odd to read it now. Given...everything.”

“...yeah…”

“...it’s actually pretty empty. I think...I might start writing in it.”

“Yeah?”

“...yeah. Leave my own mark. Maybe when I’m gone, someone else can read it. See how things have changed. If...there’s anyone who comes after me.”

It’s a sobering thought. While Sasuke can’t really see the point...he can tell it means something to her. “...all right, then. Do it. Maybe one of these days you’ll write about how much better off we are, once we’re all settled in.”

“...I hope I do.”

                                                     .oOo.

     (This is a sequel to days 197, 270, and 323!)       More zombie AU! I haven't done much of this one, and not for a hot minute. I used to be majorly into zombies, but not so much anymore...so forgive me if I sound rusty lol. I'm also not too good at action or gore...maybe I shouldn't write zombies xD      But a wee bit more of our group's tale. Hopefully it was interesting! I can see Hinata being a bit sentimental about this sort of thing. Sasuke...not so much, haha~ But at least he relents for her.      Anywho, it's bedtime now, so that's all for tonight. Thanks for reading!

[ldybluerse]

My Heart and Head Hurt.

So Very, Very Much

I am Asexual. I like cuddling, kissing, loving touches, I even love to make inappropriate sex jokes. Okay, I can make some pretty lewd sex jokes but that’s what happens when like 90% of your friends for the past ten years identify as pansexual. I just don’t feel sexual attraction and I am mostly repulsed by sex (ehhh it’s too much to explain).

At the first of the year, I moved to Texas from Michigan. Leaving behind all my friends, which with the internet isn’t terrible... but also my friends are shit at peopling on the Internet. Not angry or blame, they all have depression and anxiety. I get it. Just saying it’s hard to pretty much completely lose that connection with my friends. My friends are also the type where we would all pile into my bed and watch videos while cuddling with each other and my dogs. They spent so much time caring for me after my surgeries.

Being handicapped, and still learning how to live with it (it’s a relatively recent thing and takes relearning how to live life in a way that works for your limitations) I live with my parents. They are great but... they have their own mental health issues that really fucked me up as I grew up. It means that I don’t feel like I can open up or talk to them about anything because of what happened back then. I love them and I know they would do anything for me, but it’s just this thing I have. Heck, I have trouble opening up to my therapist for a long time. My therapist, who I also had to leave in Michigan. And Texas Medicaid? Kind of non-existent. Plus, I’m too old for my parents to be taking care of me, you know western standards and all, so I can’t have insurance through them.

Basically, I ran out of some of my medicine months ago, which means I live in near constant pain too. I can’t go see a therapist, because I can’t afford it. I haven’t run out of my depression medication yet, so there is that.

Since my accident (I will do another post on that later, because that will take a while), I haven’t been able to work. The accident was in December 2011, since 2013, I have had ten surgeries. I started back to school because it doesn’t seem like I’ll ever be up for any type of manual labor. But it also means I feel useless because physically I’m limited and mentally I am so fucked up I can’t do what I can handle doing. I graduated with my Bachelor (really proud of) but Texas has some different requirements that will add a lot of time towards getting my Masters, because Michigan didn’t have those requirements. This means I am going to enroll in an accredited online program, hopefully. Have to get accepted, fingers crossed.

To summarize, for ten months I have been isolated in a different state, dealing with body trying to adjust to different weather and medicine changes. Self isolation isn’t helping but the other problem is when I do reach out, there isn’t someone there...

Background info done, now to what’s troubling me:

My best friend and girlfriend is also Asexual. We’ve been together for almost eight years, but it’s always been long distance (we’re Ace, it doesn’t bug us too much) and I have gone to visit her. We started “talking” through Role Play and until recently, whenever there was lulls in life when a lot wasn’t happening, we could lean back on the Role Play to stay connected. There wasn’t a day when we didn’t talk to each other, even during the hospital visits we both went through, we stayed connected in some small way. And we talked about everything and anything. Our fandoms didn’t always match up, but it was fun listening and learning... I thought...

She was dealing with a lot of stuff, and for a few years was out of work, probably why she had so much time and energy for me. It was really bad for her for a while, where she even verbally attacked me on a few occasions. I know it wasn’t her but her mental illness, so I forgive her for it. But it was bad.

She was raised super Christian (DONT celebrate Halloween because it’s evil type Christian), and she has always been Christian even if she yelled at God a lot in her low days. Yeah, the good Christian girl is dating the Goth Pagan Celtic Witch... whatever you will call me. I’ve been Pagan for about 2/3rds of my life by now, so it’s not like she didn’t know she I was one. She’s never tried to shame or convert me.

My Bachelor is in Religious Studies, I know how good a religion can be for someone’s mental health if they are religious. I would talk to her about rekindling her faith. Finding a church she could at least go sit and listen to, so she could reconnect. She did! And it’s been amazing for her mental health. She has held a steady job for a while, actually is the poster child for the program that helped her move foreword and get her life back in order. I am so very proud of her and I do love her so much.

I just think... she’s outgrown me. The only fandom she talks about anymore is... Christianity. She doesn’t talk about LoZ anymore. She doesn’t talk about Tolkien. She doesn’t watch anime or cartoons anymore. She has no interest in Role Playing, as I said a big part of staying connected.

She talks about work, her cats, crocheting, and her religion. The thing is, I can’t fault her for any of it if it’s what’s best for her. She deserves happiness and stability. But...even when I’m back in school and when I get a job I don’t think I could leave the world of fantasy and fiction behind.

I grew up going to Ren Faires, my dad wearing tights. My first boyfriend I met at Ren Faire, while he was in tights. Labryinth and The Last Unicorn are still my favorite movies of all time! I collect Dragons of all sorts. I’ve watched the whole series of Fraggle Rock a few times, because it’s just wholesome and sweet.

My parents are Trekkies, my mom has had some of her fanfiction a published in old Starlog Zines. We watch fantasy, fiction, actions, cartoons... my mom has always loved the world of books, especially fantasy. She collects unicorns, so many unicorns. When I got into Anime, so did my mom. Kenshin is still her favorite, although to be fair she loved Ultron and Speed Racer when they first came to the states (she says Speed Racer was her first ever crush).

My brothers love the same thing, my oldest brother still fans for Jason David Frank. My other brother, well, he named his cat Pandea after WoW, we have his LotR sword collection, all his movie memorabilia...

We’re nerds and dorks and not afraid to be so.

Since the move the only thing making me happy has been my animals (Gods and Goddesses the fluffy bastards are clingers and just want to love you and be loved which is something I need) and fantasy. I’ve watched several animes I just want to gush about, but if you don’t have someone who is watching it too... you don’t want to ruin it. I want to just talk someone’s ear off about Steven Universe or Miraculous the Tales of Ladybug and Chat Noir. Hell, even Ducktales and Tangled. Do you know how AMAZING they have made Ducktales?! I watched the original series when I was younger but...! And all the inside jokes!!!!

The books! I probably read about thirty or forty in one month when I went on a book binge. They were all trashy romance novels, and admittedly the sex scenes were... meh... I’m Asexual, what do you expect?! Okay... some Aces like sex and stuff. It’s not that important to me. What is, is the connection two people have to each other. The love. And trashy romance novels aren’t the best at giving that... but it’s something.

Oh and the Webcomics. I have always, always loved Webcomics. I used to have the folders on my old computer organized down to the day of the week the comics updated because I so many, that I had to organize them just to get the right updates! Right now Lore Olympics. OMG Lore Olympics. Be still my heart! I am reading several on WEBTOON. I have a few I follow through DeviantArt; Erma is so frikken cute! Daughter of the Lilies, ahhhhhh so amazing and the artwork!!! Pincushion! Constructs will always have a place in my heart!

I just got into the Good Omens fandom, because I’m a Whovian and Tennant is defiantly one of my most favorite of Doctors. He was just so beautiful in it. And when I took my Shakespeare course my teacher had us watch Hamelt and ohhhhh Tennant. Ohhhh you really can’t tell if Hamlet has gone crazy or it’s an act (which he claims it is!!). Sir Patrick Stewart was also just... oh!!! I entered Good Omens because my Instagram was all Ineffable Husbands (I think because of my Doctor Who love). Finally, finally i watched it.

That was like three weeks ago I got into Good Omens and I still am completely in love. The tenderness, the loving looks. I have to read the book! And the script book! (Depression, yay!). I need to listen to the radio adaptation and revisit Queen (I was raised on rock’n’roll. And I mean, David Bowie has probably been the only Rock Star I ever went heart-eyes for... also kinda sad he wasn’t mentioned in Good Omens because he did work with Queen and let’s face it, Bowie was so gender-nonconforming!). I just want to ramble and babble on and on about the series with someone. About all the hidden bits and pieces and theories and things in my head!!!

But... I don’t have anyone. My girlfriend sort of shuts down when I talk about any of the fandoms I like. She will just skip those parts of the conversation and comment on the animal videos I send her or something else. She will talk about work or God. Again, I’m know Religion and people. If there is something I know best is you can’t dictate what someone else’s beliefs are. So while I know the Bible and Christian theory, when she talks about it and tells me stories I can only “nod” and “smile” because if a persons religion isn’t harming themselves or others, and it’s helping them, I don’t think it would be right to argue theory and philosophy with them over what is mostly fairytale stories in a book. I’m not saying their isn’t a Christian God, or many Gods, or things in the Bible didn’t happen, but not all of it is factual nor was it ever meant to be seen as strictly factual. I try to show I am at least paying attention to what she says.

At the same time, with the state I have been in, I probably haven’t given her what she needs when she is telling me about stuff.

Fantasy and fiction has been the only thing keeping me afloat. Religion and work has been helping her. I just can’t see a world without the magic of make-believe but that’s not where she is anymore.

So... I’ve been thinking for a bit now maybe we’re no longer what we need for each other in our lives. Not that we don’t love each other, and not that we can’t still be friends... but maybe it’s time we adventure out? We were what we needed from each other for years... maybe we just aren’t that anymore.