#art has been in the worst slump for the past 2-3 months

[vaard]

A fun prompt from twitter that I grabbed Vaard art for, especially since I haven’t posted anything in ages.

Post your OC as:

1. A Romanceable NPC

2. Quest Giver NPC

3. Final Boss of the Game

[epicstuckyficrecs]

Weekly Recap | March 9-22

Didn’t even realize but I completely forgot the recap for the week of March 9th to March 15th because I was too busy trying to find a flight home from Scotland (fuck coronavirus and bojo!!!) So now you get two weeks worth of fics!

Complete

good on my own (needed me) by mcwho (Modern AU, Teacher Bucky | 12K | Explicit): There are some mistakes that could be made by anybody. Anybody. Bucky taught high school pretty much his whole life, and that was fine, those were kids, and he knew all of them anyway, which meant there was very little chance of him accidentally fucking any of his students during an impulsive post-marital-breakdown Grindr hook-up. Which is exactly what he had done with Steve.

💙 The Conservation of a 17th Century Painting by birdjay/ @bird-jay (Modern AU, Artist Steve | 13K | Explicit): Well. He does live alone, and it’s not like anyone would find out. He could safely stick his hand down his pants right now and not have to worry about it. He’s jerked off loads of times in his own apartment. It’s...healthy to let stress out this way...right? And the fact that it’s to a doctor of art history isn’t weird. Or at least, not super weird. People have masturbated to weirder things. Steve knows that for sure. And it’s not like Dr. Barnes is rough on the eyes or anything, either. He’s quite possibly the most handsome man Steve’s looked at in months. And, well, there’s the whole art side to things, as well. (Part 1 of The Met: Art Conservation Studies)

Re-framing the Canvas by birdjay/ @bird-jay (Modern AU | 4K | Explicit): Steve and Dr. Barnes's first date. (Part 2 of The Met: Art Conservation Studies)

Perfectly Mad by ClaraxBarton/ @claraxbarton​ (PWP, Shrunkyclunks | 2,2K | Explicit): Whoever had decided to seat Steve beside Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes - eldest son of President Winifred Barnes, war hero, recently returned from a three month stay as a hostage of an offshoot of the same terrorist group that had once held Tony Stark - was clearly an idiot. Actually, in Steve’s opinion, whoever had thought Barnes attending the dinner at all was an idiot. Whoever had thought inviting Steve to the dinner was an idiot.

own me, i'll let you play the role (i'll be your animal) by voxofthevoid/ @voxofthevoid​ (Werewolf Steve, PWP | 6,7K | Explicit): He wanders into a clearing, the same one where he stood, almost three months ago, watching the Quinjet while waiting for Steve to come running to him. It was the start of something…educational. It’s one thing to take Steve as he is, another to love it the way Bucky did. He has no regrets. He’s been worse things than a monster-fucker. - Bucky’s not wearing red, but he’s got a big, bad wolf on his tail. (Part 3 of 💙in this story, you have claws)

i look like all you need by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3​ (PWP, Daddy Bucky | 4,9K | Explicit): “Steve,” James starts, voice so low and so deep, a shiver running down Steve’s spine, “Baby, you can either come here and stand in front of me…or I’ll drag you by your fucking hair and put you there. Choose.” (Part 1 of Daddy James Bucky Barnes/Twink Steve)

i'm seein' the pain, seein' the pleasure by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3​ (PWP, Daddy Bucky | 1,8K | Explicit): Steve had barely been able to keep up, gasping and trying to ask what James was doing, his thigh pulled up and hiked around a thick waist, a filthy roll of James’ hips. James had whispered low in his ear, “Wouldn’t be a good Daddy if I didn’t make sure my sweet boy got to bed…” (Part 2 of Daddy James Bucky Barnes/Twink Steve)

💙 No One Else by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3​ (Sugar Daddy Steve | 12K | Explicit): And now here he is, walking up the steps to Steve’s brownstone at 12:03 in the morning on a Thursday night. He’s standing there like a fucking idiot with his tail between his legs, his hand coming up to ring the doorbell and falling back to his side maybe 8 times, and he lets out a shaky sigh. What if Steve wasn’t awake? Was this out of line? Showing up to his house in the middle of the fucking night? Fuck. (Part 1 of Modern Daddy Steve Rogers/Young Bucky Barnes)

Never Before by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3​ (PWP | 5,6K | Explicit): Before Steve, Bucky enjoyed sex, engaging in it frequently with various partners, enjoying himself and the pleasure he could bring others. But when Steve came along his world was flipped upside-fucking-down. Bucky had never felt so desperate, so needy, so pathetic for someone. He had never once been brought to tears during sex or because of sex but Steve brought them out of him almost every time, whether it be from the sex itself or for begging for it. He had no idea what his body and what his mind were capable of during sex until he came along. It was like Bucky had never had sex before Steve entered his life. (Part 2 of Modern Daddy Steve Rogers/Young Bucky Barnes)

Slumber by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3​ (PWP, Daddy Steve | 4,1K | Explicit): “Bucky, honey. Can’t get enough even when you’re sleepin’, huh?” (Part 3 of Modern Daddy Steve Rogers/Young Bucky Barnes)

Mad With It by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3​ (PWP | 3,9K | Explicit): “Bucky, come here.” Fuck that. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t move and he finds himself gritting out, “Make me.” He knows he’s being a brat, knows he has been all damn day. He knows Steve is being as sweet as can be, trying to be supportive, but he can only take so much. (Part 5 of Modern Daddy Steve Rogers/Young Bucky Barnes)

Cyclone by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3​ (PWP | 4,9K | Explicit): “Listen to those manners, baby, so good. You can have all of Daddy’s cock you want but you better fucking work for it.” (Part 6 of Modern Daddy Steve Rogers/Young Bucky Barnes)

Delirious by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3​ (PWP | 2,8K | Explicit): “Fuck, honey you look so good takin’ it for me. That little cock has come twice already and look how hard it is for Daddy. Said you couldn’t come and look at you about to come all over my cock.” (Part 7 of Modern Daddy Steve Rogers/Young Bucky Barnes)

I Just Wanna Tell You Somethin' by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3​ (PWP | 1,4K | Explicit): Bucky had been so preoccupied at the library studying with Natasha that he hadn’t even realized his phone had been ringing. Or that he had missed quite a handful of text messages. Luckily it was only one missed call, but his stomach clenched nervously when he saw that there was a voicemail. A long voicemail. (Part 8 of Modern Daddy Steve Rogers/Young Bucky Barnes)

Lately You've Been on my Mind by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3​  (PWP | 1,8K | Explicit):  As soon as Steve’s office door is closed behind him, he lets out an incredibly deep sigh, his tense shoulders slumping, his eyes falling shut. Meeting after meeting after meeting had consumed his day and most of them had unfortunately been arduous with difficult clients and a test of patience. Steve needed to go home for the weekend and it felt like he needed it more than he needed to breathe. He slips his phone from his pocket and immediately curses. He missed a call from Bucky. (Part 9 of Modern Daddy Steve Rogers/Young Bucky Barnes)

💙 Gym Day by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3​ (PWP | 19K | Explicit): He sits up and rolls his neck, hands planted on either side of his hips on the wooden bench beneath him, focusing on his posture, and looks over at the man sitting with him. Oh shit. (Part 1 of Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Solider Bucky Barnes| Shrinkyclinks)

Easy Like Sunday Mornin' by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3​ (PWP | 3,2K | Explicit): Today is a Sunday and the universally-accepted laziness of the day may be why Steve finds himself wanting it slow and sweaty and deep. Bucky didn’t ask questions. (Part 2 of Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Solider Bucky Barnes| Shrinkyclinks)

💙 Right in my Space by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3​ (PWP | 9K | Explicit): Fuck. Steve’s head falls against the door with a gentle thump that he knows Bucky has to hear from the other side. Bucky was the absolute best and the absolute worst thing he could have seen on the other side of his door, especially with his slightly muddled red-wine-filled brain. He has worked so hard to avoid this moment, has hurt himself over and over again, and here he is feeling vulnerable standing at his door at midnight while the guy he definitely doesn’t want to date and definitely might not be in love with stands on the other side. (Part 3 of Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Solider Bucky Barnes| Shrinkyclinks)

life is but a dream by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3​ (PWP | 2,3K | Explicit): “Beg for it.” The phrase bounces around in Bucky’s brain like a pinball, off different sides, rolling around the curvature of his skull. His eyes are open, but his vision is a little hazy, can make out Steve’s slim backside as it hovers over Bucky’s angry erection, his amused but hot facial expression. Steve lets go of Bucky’s dick, smacks his hand down hard on his stomach instead, “Gone on me already, honey?” (Part 4 of Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Solider Bucky Barnes| Shrinkyclinks)

Edging Closer by leveragehunters (Monkeygreen)/ @leveragehunters​ (Modern AU | 1,4K | Teen): Bucky had an apartment of his very own (okay, technically he co-owned it with the bank) and a neighbour of his very own: Steve Rogers, tall, blond, built and ridiculously kind. Sure, Bucky had accused said neighbour of being a butt-pic snapping pervert, but amazingly enough he'd been forgiven. In fact, he'd been more than forgiven, but even after dating Steve for not-quite-a-year, Bucky's eyebrows shot up when Steve dropped down next to him on the couch and casually asked, "Do you want to try edging this weekend?" (Part 2 of Two Men and a Single Entendre)

WIP

💙 Like it's the Only Thing I'll Ever Do by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3​ (ABO AU | 3/4 | 22K | Explicit): When Steve opens the door, Bucky feels like he’s been living in clouds for the past few days, maybe even his entire life. Steve is life, Steve is happiness, Steve is the sun. He has such a visceral reaction to seeing the Alpha that he feels his knees go weak, feels his body draw tight towards the other man, pulled in. Or big Alpha Steve moves into sweet little Omega Bucky's apartment building and a roller-coaster build of a romance ensues.

💙 the reverie was not of me, you never saw nothing (so good for you and good for me) by voxofthevoid/ @voxofthevoid​ (Canon divergent | 2/? | 15K | Explicit): S.H.I.E.L.D and the Red Room throw Captain America and the Winter Soldier together for yet another mission. Serendipity is a tricky thing. (Part 2 of lay your heart into my perfect machine)

The Mnemosyne Project by onymousann (Post-WS | 2/? | 4,5K | Explicit): Someone's trying to talk to the Winter Soldier. Steve intends to find out who. (Part 2 of ocean eyes)

Paradise Lost (& Found) by JJK/ @trenchcoatsandtimetravel​ (Modern AU | 28/? | 62K | Mature): Meeting at a tropical resort AU where Steve is there on a 2-week honeymoon package after his fiancee left him at the altar, and Bucky is there for his sister’s destination wedding but doesn’t have a room because there was a mix up with the reservations in the system.

💙 Whip Crack by Quarra/ @quarra​ (Tentacles AU | 109K | 13/? | Explicit): Tentacle Monster Steve is captured by Hydra. They send in the Winter Soldier with a bull whip to break him, but as far as Steve's concerned the most beautiful creature he's ever seen walked in to his cell and started waving a sexy black tentacle at him. It's love at first sight.

Re-read

wild at heart by spacebuck/ @spacebuck​ (Shrunkyclunks, Soulmates AU | 11K | Explicit): Steve's volunteering when he meets his soulmate, and the cheetahs Bucky's responsible for make pretty good matchmakers, too.

[spartanguard]

savage garden, 6/7

Summary: Killian Jones was, by far, the worst, weakest, most ineffectual Dark One ever. (According to the Darkness, at least.) And he was fine with that. He was just a slave, a deckhand—what use did he have of dark magic? And even less want. But the Darkness has vowed to firmly get him under its grasp, one of these days. He finds respite in a beautiful secluded garden—and the amazing woman he eventually meets there. The question remains, though: is it—is she—enough to keep him out of the dark completely? One can only hope…

5.7k | rated T | AO3 | part 1 | part 2 (art) | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

A/N: Another update, and one more to go! One of my favorite scenes in the story is in the chapter; I literally swooned writing it. But, a note about a later scene: SLIGHT TRIGGER WARNING—very very vague mentions of attempted assault in the past. It doesn't go into any detail, but I figured I should put this warning up to be safe. 

title comes from “Crash and Burn” by Savage Garden, which fits this story way too well and is basically how the story got its name.

chapter 6:  let me be the one you call / when darkness is upon your door

The first winter storm arrived three days after Killian’s battle with the Darkness—after he last saw Emma.

Three achingly long days during which he had to expend more effort than he would have liked to keep the dark magic back, though its appearance never faded from his veins. Three days where he had to force himself from going back to the garden, but the memory of the frightened way Emma had stared at him kept him home.

But the snow forced Killian to repair the window. He tried to do it by hand, but just kept cutting himself on the broken glass and couldn’t seem to fit the pieces together properly—he just ended up smearing his blackish blood on them. He fixed it with magic before he even realized what he was doing.

Now wasn’t that so much easier?

“Bugger off.”

You’ve been telling me that for decades and it hasn’t happened; when will it sink in?

“Never.”

And just how do you plan on stopping me now? it sneered. Emma won’t go near you.

“Don’t you dare say her name to me!” he snapped.

Emma, Emma, Emma, Emma, Emma…

Her name was echoing off the wooden walls of the cottage and reverberating in his skull as the Darkness sing-songed and cackled. Placing his hands over his ears did nothing, nor did curling in on himself where he stood in his great room—not that he suspected such instinctive human reactions would do much against an unnatural onslaught like this.

It felt like his brain was being rent in two, until he couldn’t handle the attack anymore. “Silence!” he shouted, so loud (or so amplified by magic) that the mirror above the hearth shattered and a set of bookshelves collapsed .

To his shock, the Darkness complied, but he swore he could almost hear its smugness as he magically repaired the mirror; he had to stop himself from doing the same with the bookcase.

He’d just started stacking the books and assessing the damage when he heard an even stranger noise: a knock on the door. That had never happened before—he’d made sure that the path to his home was as hidden and hard to traverse as possible. So, either this person was terribly lost, or...a chill went up his spine at the thought of what malevolence might cause a person to try to find him.

He left the books to their chaos on the floor and cautiously went to answer the door, suddenly wishing he’d thought to install windows on this side of the house, or at least a peephole.

Ask and ye shall receive. Without effort, a tiny, glass-filled hole appeared on the door. He sighed that it had happened unconsciously, but was too concerned to care much and peered through it.

Then his heart truly stopped: it was Emma.

“Killian? Are you there?” she called, and he could tell she was about to knock again; knowing her, she wouldn’t leave until she talked to him one way or the other. He wouldn’t put it past her to somehow get onto the balcony and sneak in that way. No, he needed to face her head-on—though why she was even here after what happened, he had no idea.

As loudly as he could, he unlatched the deadbolt on the door and pulled the rusty hinges open.

To his shock, she grinned when she saw him. “Hi!” she greeted cheerily, her face alight—although he did notice her eyes dart briefly to the space behind him as she pulled off the hood of her thick brown winter cloak.

“H-hello,” he replied, unsure, and feeling very much like cornered prey. “Emma, what are you doing here? Why; how?”

“You dropped this,” she explained and nodded at the object he just noticed floating in front of her: his glove. “It was a pretty easy tracking spell to find you, even if the hike wasn’t.”

The glove floated towards him, and he took it out of the air. There was a tiny spark as her magic faded out once it came in contact with him.

She didn’t wait for him to answer before continuing. “I figured you’d take some time to cool off before coming back, but then when you didn’t, I realized I was going to have to come to you.”

“You…” He blinked as he tried to process it, but all he could say was, “...Why?” There was no understanding it. “Emma, I very nearly killed you; I had little to no control of that situation. How...how can you stand to be near me?”

Her shoulders slumped a bit. “Not gonna lie—I was pretty scared in the moment,” she told him, glancing down—almost looking ashamed. “But you seemed just as upset, if not more, once you came back to yourself. Whatever the Darkness does, I know that’s not you.”

A pit formed in his stomach. “I wish I was as certain of that as you are,” he admitted.

“Hey,” she said, somewhat sharply, commanding his attention back from his self-loathing. “You’re a good man, Killian,” she affirmed, grabbing his hand and squeezing it. “And there’s something I want to do.” She swallowed, then barreled on. “I’m here to ask you out; to dinner, or something.”

His jaw dropped. He certainly wouldn’t complain that she still wished to spend time with him, but the fact that she wanted to boggled him. And yet, all he could reply with was, “Shouldn’t I be the one asking you out?” (Had social mores changed that much in the time since he’d been removed from society?)

“Should have known you’d be old-fashioned, given your age,” she teased with a smirk. (Apparently, they had.) “Come on; I know the perfect place. It’s not too crowded, but just enough that no one will bother us. What do you say?”

As with anything she asked him, he knew he couldn’t deny her. “Alright,” he said. “Let me grab my cloak.”

“Not your jacket?”

Her reaction surprised him a bit. “No; should I wear that instead?”

“It’s up to you. I just think it’s a pretty fantastic jacket.”

What do you know? She does have good taste, despite her interest in you.

“Jacket it is, then. Just give me a moment.” His sense of chivalry was telling him to invite her in while he fetched the garment from the bedroom, but the sailor didn’t want her to see the mess. So he settled on leaving the door open and moving with haste.

As he slipped the leather on in the privacy of his little-used quarters, he realized that it was probably for the best to have his armor on if he was going to be around people.

Not that it did much good the last time.

“Behave. Please.”

We’ll see.

He rejoined her quickly, locked the door behind them, and turned back to her. “Lead the way, love.”

She smiled, took him by the arm, and headed off. It was slow going at first—even he struggled sometimes to get through the rocky outcrops that naturally hid his home, but that was why he’d chosen this spot in the first place. Eventually, though, they were on more even terrain, and Emma struck up conversation.

“The books have been incredibly helpful—thank you again, so much.”

“I’m glad to hear that. There haven’t been any further, uh, issues?”

“No,” she confirmed, a bit solemnly. “I...I had one of the fairies help me make sure nothing like that would happen again.”

“Good. Was it Tink?”

She looked at him almost incredulously. “Yeah; how’d you know?”

“She...may have sought me out during my journey to and from the castle.”

“Oh my god; so much of our conversation makes sense now. I can’t believe she’d meddle like that.”

“She’s just looking out for you, love. It’s understandable, really, given...what I am.”

“Well, you definitely won her over. That’s all I’m gonna say.”

“Aye, she hinted at as much,” he said, blushing.

She gave him a sideways glance-smirk combination that suggested there was something he was missing from the story.

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s just...has anyone ever told you you’re adorable?”

He was sure he was now as pink as the sky above the presently setting sun. It had fallen completely by the time they got to the nearest town, and the lamplighters were at their task, illuminating the streets. Killian had watched this town grow and change over the years, and he had to admit that the streetlamps were by far the best invention he’d seen.

The tavern Emma was headed to was one with which he was fairly well-acquainted. More than once, he’d gone into town and found a dark, quiet corner of a tavern to perch for the night. It made him feel less disconnected from the world as he sipped on weak ale and dined on hearty stew. He tipped well, he stayed out of trouble, and he didn’t leave an impression, though some perhaps thought it odd that he kept his hood so low over his face. But his gold was worth more than anyone’s curiosity, he supposed.

Emma had the same approach; once they were inside, she slipped off her cloak and led him to a secluded table that he’d sat at many times. Near the bar, some Navy men on shore leave were clearly enjoying their first satisfying meal in months; on the other side of the main room, pirates were deep into their bottles and either gambling or whoring—or both.

A waitress wandered over from that side of the room, hair and skirts askew. “What’ll it be?”

“Ale and stew, please, ma’am,” he said politely. Thankfully, this part of the tavern was too dark for her to really see him.

Emma asked, “Stew for me, too, and a bottle of rum, two glasses.”

The waitress nodded and scurried off.

“You drink rum?” Killian wondered aloud.

“Yeah; don’t you, Mister Pirate?”

“No. I’m allergic; never touched the stuff.”

“Never?”

“Well, once,” he admitted. “I was young and some of the crew gave it to me; said it’d ‘help me be a man’ or something. I’d only had a few shots before it came right back up.”

Emma chuckled. “Yeah, I don’t think you’re allergic—I think you just had too much. How old were you?”

“Twelve, maybe.”

“Yeah. You’re having some of this.”

She poured out two portions when the waitress returned with their order and handed him one before holding her own aloft.

“To breaking curses.”

“I can drink to that.” He lightly tipped his small cup against hers, then watched with no small amount of awe as she tossed it back, then licked her lips after. Already, he was feeling a bit flushed, and he hadn’t had a drop of alcohol.

She set her glass down and gave him a daring smile. “Your turn.”

He exhaled in preparation. He was well-acquainted with the smell of the stuff, but all he could recall of the taste was nothing pleasant. Still—this was for Emma. As quick as he could, he brought it to his lips and drained the cup.

Incredibly, it wasn’t half bad. The burn of the alcohol was there, but it was so much better than whatever swill the crew had been drinking—this was sweet and warm and spicy.

“Good, huh?”

“Aye.”

“And you’re not breaking out in hives or anything, right?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Perfect.”

Part of him was exercising restraint from indulging in another; the other part wondered if he could even get drunk.

Nothing stopping you from finding out!

Like most things, he decided to follow her lead, taking a shot whenever it was offered as they dug into their meals and continued to chat. It was casual—well, as casual as it could be, given the weight of what had already passed between them—but he couldn’t recall a more enjoyable night in ages.

“So, I want to know: how you got the hook,” she asked, toying with the appendage where it sat on the table. There was a flush in her cheeks and playful smile on her face; he had to assume the rum had something to do with that, but he liked to imagine otherwise.

“Afraid it’s a rather dull tale,” he shrugged. “We were attacked by pirates when I was on a merchant vessel. I wasn’t fighting, but somehow got caught in the middle of things and one sword or another took it off; I was never clear whose, but wouldn’t put it past one of my crew mates.”

“Seriously? That’s terrible.”

“It happens,” he offered nonchalantly; he’d certainly seen worse. “The ship doctor helped me heal and fitted me with the hook, so I’d still be useful. Once the fever from the infection finally broke, that’s when I discovered there was a new captain and crew—the very pirates who’d attacked—and they let me stay as long as I kept a low profile and contributed. So I’m sure that answers another question of yours.”

“Yeah, it does,” she affirmed. “It didn’t seem like something you’d sign up for.”

“You’d be surprised, actually. It’s…it’s better than being a slave.”

She squeezed both his hand as his hook at that, and offered a sympathetic smile. “What happened to the crew? After...everything. Did you, you know...do anything to them?”

He knew it was just morbid curiosity on her part, but hated that she knew it was a possibility. “No; I never saw them again. Didn’t want to; didn’t trust myself. I ran into Smee, the bo’sun, some years later, but he was an old man and retired at that point.”

“That must have been a shock for him.”

“Aye; he thought he’d seen a ghost,” Killian chuckled. “We had a pint—up at that very bar, actually. Didn’t talk much, given that there wasn’t much to say—he never actively antagonized me, but we weren’t exactly close friends.” He swallowed as the rest of the memory played out. “He’s the only person who ever asked me to use the magic. He wanted to be young again.”

“Did you do it?”

“No. The Darkness insisted it could, but I wasn’t confident enough to let it have any free reign like that. Thankfully, he understood when I turned him down; said he’d had a good life.” He took a pull from his ale, then continued a bit quieter, “I went to his funeral a few years later. I think he was the last person who knew me as a mortal man.”

“Wow. And I’m guessing that was a while ago?”

“Yeah; probably 80 years ago, at least.”

Emma shook her head in disbelief. “You say that so casually, like it’s nothing, when it’s longer than most people even live. What have you been doing all these years?”

“Is it the rum making you chatty or are you genuinely curious?” he teased. Perhaps the booze was having an effect on him, too—he’d never been so flirty. (Was this flirting? He honestly hardly knew.)

“Can it be both?” She winked.

He smiled back, but then averted his gaze, picking at the remnants of his stew with his spoon. Perhaps another effect of the alcohol was a delay in his usual reactions; even if it was Emma, who he’d already revealed so much to, he still hadn’t gotten accustomed to anyone being interested in his life or what he had to say. “I can’t say I’ve been up to anything particularly interesting,” he said, trying to be gentle in what was sure to be a let-down of a tale. He summarized his years: building his home and library, keeping himself entertained with the Darkness and its constant companionship, and his regular visits to the garden. “It was the only place I could truly find solitude, even after I...when it was…less than attractive.”

“You did that, didn’t you.” She wasn’t asking, but she wasn’t accusatory, either.

“I did. Or the Darkness did; it’s still a bit fuzzy.”

Emma gave a sad sort of smirk. “I’m just realizing—that’s why your magic felt familiar: because I’d already felt it, the first time I walked in there. It wasn’t as strong, but...it was definitely yours.”

Shame rushed through him, faster than he’d ever felt it before (and he was well-acquainted with the emotion). He swallowed and let his gaze drift down again, inspecting each striation in the grain of the wooden bowl. “So my reputation did precede me, then.”

“Hey—don’t go there,” Emma told him, squeezing his hand again. “It’s in the past, and it’s moot now. Finding the garden like that...it kind of gave me a purpose again.”

He looked up, surprised. Of all the things they had in common, he never thought a lack of direction would be one.

She explained, seeming to understand his silent question. “I was just...so angry, after everything with my parents and Maleficent and not being able to do anything about it. The fairies were being kind of scarce so I didn’t have anyone to help me, and I couldn’t go to anyone I knew near the palace because they’d see what a failure I am. We don’t even have to talk about that dumb prophecy that’s still hanging over my head.” She paused her rant to take a breath and a drink. “And then I stumbled across the garden and...it was something I could fix. So I did. And...here we are.”

Some part of Killian wondered at the cosmic improbability of the way their paths crossed and intertwined so perfectly—if it was coincidence or more than that; maybe something do with her being the Savior, even if he still didn’t know what that meant (though it must have something to do with the prophecy). But the rest of him was back to being a bit bleary, happily so, from the rum. He gave her a gentle squeeze this time. “I’m glad you found it.”

“Me too,” she smiled.

“And now that you know all of my sordid tale, and I know the rest of yours, how about you tell me something far more exciting and that no one has probably ever asked you before: what’s it like to be a princess?”

She chuckled and rolled her eyes. “Okay, Captain Sarcasm. There’s no way you want to hear that. It’s so boring.”

“Not to me, it’s not.”

She gave him a sideways glance, but he could see some level of submission in her gaze. “Okay, but I warned you: it really isn’t all that exciting.”

Emma was a terrible liar—he found everything exceedingly fascinating, from life in the castle to her lessons to the way she described her parents (having a close family like that at all, really; his heart ached in a way it hadn’t in so long at the thought of Liam).

“Ugh, and the balls,” she complained. “It felt like we had one every other month.”

He perked up even more at that, if it was even possible for him to be more engrossed in her stories. “I thought those were supposed to be fun?” he commented; everything he’d ever read seemed to suggest they were the height of romance and diversion.

“I mean, the first twenty or so were, I guess. But after a while, they all look the same: same dresses, same dances, same people. My mother gave up on finding a suitor ages ago, after everything with that bastard,” she spat, referring to the arse that broke her heart. “I think she just likes throwing parties. Seems a bit of a waste of money to me but they somehow always seemed to come up even on them.” She sniffed a bit, though. “But I can’t wait for the next one, whenever it is.”

“It’ll happen,” he assured her.

“I know; I have to have hope that it will.”

He gave her another hopeful squeeze and they went back to their drinks for a bit, until music filled the tavern. One of the pirates had brought a fiddle and was playing a jig of some sort, and the waitresses were joining some of the men in dancing a reel. It was fairly typical of something Killian had seen on ships a lifetime ago, but given their conversation and the gentle glow of the tavern’s lanterns, there was something a bit more dreamy about it.

They watched and clapped along for the rest of the song, and then the tune changed and the dancers changed their steps to match. He was practically lost in a daze as he stared at the couples as they twirled and pranced almost in sync with one another, happy smiles on their faces and laughter bubbling from their throats.

“Do you want to dance?”

Killian’s head whipped towards Emma, both in shock and wonder. “Pardon?”

“Have you never been asked to dance before?”

A hazy memory of one special night with Milah filtered through his memory, but no words had been spoken then—it just happened. “No, I haven’t.”

“Well, come on. I’m not used to being turned down, especially when I actually want to dance with someone,” she commanded with a wink, then stood and held an inviting hand to him.

He didn’t let himself think too long about taking it, the warmth of her palm reaching his even through his glove, and followed as she led him to the makeshift dance floor just as the music changed. This tune was more...he didn’t want to say refined, but it was definitely more befitting a ball than a tavern.

She pulled him to an open spot and then stood in front of him. Carefully, she took his hand and placed it on her waist, right above where the curve of her hips gently flared out.

“What...what are you doing?” he stammered; for some reason, he felt like a virginal young boy again, even though he was neither (but might as well be, in some ways).

Emma set her hand on his shoulder and with the other, held his hook, before pointedly explaining, “It’s called a waltz, and there’s only one rule.” She took a step into him, close enough that he could feel heat radiating off her body onto his, and murmured, “Pick a partner who knows what she’s doing.”

Any words died on his lips; no coherent thoughts formed in his brain. Nothing registered but the slight shift of weight as Emma took the first step, and he scrambled to follow. Then another. And another. Emma expertly directed their movements with the the press of her hand against him and the press of her hips into his grip; he was torn between focusing on the steps and staring at the soft expression on her face, green eyes twinkling even in the dim light.

Eventually, he figured it out and they fell into a pattern, swaying and turning to the rhythm of the music that seemed to play in time with the beat of his heart—which, quite honestly, was racing. He thought these things were supposed to be filled with romance and drama—not the intensity and intimacy that was currently present, or the heaviness of the air between them.

Too soon, the song was over and another, much livelier dance took its place. But Killian was loathe to let go of Emma and, impossibly, she seemed to feel the same, because instead of moving away, she came even closer, wrapping her free arm around his waist and setting her head on his shoulder. It was a good thing he didn’t need air, because his breath had been completely stolen.

He was almost scared to move—scared that he might frighten her away, that she wasn’t aware of what she was doing due to the rum or something—but then she started to sway on every other beat of the music, and his body was moving with hers before he had a chance to think about it.

His hook settled on the other side of her waist and he wrapped his hand around her back just a bit, keenly aware of everything about her: her scent, her warmth, how she felt pressed against him, even the subtle vibrations of her heartbeat. It was like she was the only other person in the world, the only thing that mattered—none of his other constant troubles or worries plagued him; he was completely at peace. He closed his eyes and gave into the bliss that was threatening to drown him, and he couldn’t imagine a sweeter death.

Typically, it all came crashing down a moment later. A sharp jostle pulled them both from their shared serenity, and it took a second to notice the pirate at their side, dressed in a dirty tunic and frayed pants held up with a belt that strained against his gut. He was trying to get in between Killian and Emma. “Might I ‘ave a turn with the lady?” he asked, polite in word but not in tone, or the way he was leering at Emma’s top.

“No, you may not,” was Emma’s sharp reply.

“Aw, that’s no fair; just want a quick turn is all.” He was still trying to get his dirty hands on Emma, pawing at her arm.

“I believe the lady said no,” Killian hissed. He was livid with this man; how dare he interrupt them?

Make him pay! the Darkness crowed; it wasn’t until that outburst that Killian realized it had been silent all night.

The pirate turned his attention to Killian, giving him a once over with his eyes. “Oh, you’re a pretty one, too, aren’t you? Jealous, then? I’d love a romp with you, too.”

Long-buried memories rose to the surface, spiraling out in a rage Killian hadn’t felt in ages. He grabbed the man by the shoulder and pressed him against the opposite wall, covering the distance in a matter of strides.

He pressed his forearm across the scoundrel’s chest and the tip of his hook to the neck. “You won’t lay a finger on her hair nor mine, d’you hear me?” he spat, and the man started to cower and whimper. He heard his name called from somewhere outside, but all he could focus on was this miserable excuse for a man and the fear coursing through his body. “Otherwise, I’ll see to it that you have none at all, nor your head—savvy?” The tip of his hook started to draw blood.

Ooh, decapitation—we haven’t done that in ages!

“Killian, stop.” A hand was squeezing his bicep and he turned to look at whoever dared interrupt him. It was Emma, of course.

“I can’t—he wanted to hurt you!” he insisted; didn’t she see how dangerous this man was?

“Please—I can take him,” she scoffed. “Just stop; you don’t need to do this.”

Yes, you do! Imagine what he could have done—to her; to you. Killian squinted his eyes shut at the images playing in his head.

“Killian, please.” The soft tone of her voice quickly brought him back to the ground, though he wasn’t sure if he’d been above it or under it a moment prior. Either way, it was a shock to his senses—he was ready to kill this man, without even blinking an eye.

And Emma had witnessed the whole thing.

He jumped away from the pirate as if he’d been jolted, and the man promptly slumped against the wall as he sputtered and got his breath back. The rest of the bar was eerily silent and all eyes were on him, most with a look of fear in them as he glanced around.

If Emma wore that look, too, he didn’t want—couldn’t bear—to see it. “I...I’m sorry,” he blurted out, keeping his eyes down, and then ran for the door and into the night.

You were so close—so close! He deserved it!

“No, he didn’t.” Killan’s path was aimless, but he could hear the ocean and knew his feet were propelling towards it.

He’s probably done worse.

“Then he’ll get what he deserves someday; not from me.” He crashed through thick brush as he plowed on, not caring about the burrs and thorns that scratched at him.

Think about it—think of all the wrongs you could right, if you’d just let yourself—let us—

“No!” he screamed, finally coming into a clearing. The shore lay just ahead and the sound of the waves crashing on the sand was an instant balm, though nowhere near as much as it usually was. “I’m tired of your bloody games and torture! When will it be enough? When will you just give up on me?”

“Not any time soon.” He jumped and turned to see Emma breaking through the shrubbery he’d just ran through.

He stumbled back, trying to stay away from her, for her sake. “You...you followed me? Why?”

Her brow furrowed in confusion as she moved closer to him. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“After what I just did…”

To his shock, she rolled her eyes. “Didn’t we literally just have this conversation? I’m not scared of you; I know that’s not you.”

Her faith in him was so much stronger than his own, and it nearly broke his heart. “Aye, but the line between me and the Darkness gets weaker every day. What just happened there—it’s happened before, and it’ll happen again, and it’s just been getting more frequent. I don’t…” He hung his head and nearly sobbed. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

Give in, give in, give in, the Darkness started to chant, its chorus echoing in his head. He collapsed against the wet sand as their taunts got louder, whimpering at the splitting headache it was causing until—

Until it stopped suddenly. “Killian, are you alright?” He opened his eyes to see Emma in front of him, kneeling too and gripping his shoulders. There was fear in her expression, but not of him—for him.

He didn’t have it in him to lie. “No, I’m not.”

“What happened?”

He snorted. “When? That’s a bit of a loaded question, love.”

“Okay then,” she said quietly, then brushed a hand through his hair. “How about back at the tavern.”

“I…” he started, not quite sure how to explain. “My appearance has always garnered attention, even when I was mortal—especially then. People...wanted me.”

“I...I see. Did they…?” She clearly didn’t want to put it into words.

“No, nothing like that—but there were some close calls. And it often started like that—minding my own business, and then I was being propositioned. And the Darkness...it knows what’ll set me off; it dug up those memories and that was all it took. Sometimes, I can resist, but others…”

“I get it,” she cut in. “Is...that what was happening before I knocked on your door?”

He gulped. “How...how much of that did you hear?”

“It sounded like you were yelling, and I heard something breaking, but I didn’t see anyone else there. And then it seemed like it happened when I walked up here—you were yelling, but there’s no one else around.”

He sighed and hung his head.

“Does it have something to do with your curse?”

“It has everything to do with that,” he confirmed. “It...talks to me,” he explained. “I know that sounds insane, but it taunts me, in my head. That’s how it tries to get me to do its bidding; admonishes my failures—things like that. I used to be good at ignoring it, but it...pushes, and it’s been doing that more as of late.”

She squeezed his shoulder. “Is that what happened last time in the garden?”

“No.” He still shuddered at the memory. “I’m still not sure what caused that; something in the book, I think. The Darkness somehow manifested and then...took over. It usually just takes advantage of my emotions—it’s always prompted. That was...a first.”

“Your eyes looked different; kind of like that one time we fought. That’s how I could tell you weren’t all there. They did that tonight, too.”

He scoffed. “That’s the thing, though—I was still there. I could see it all happening. Whatever that was in the garden was harder to break out of, but tonight...that wasn’t as blurry.”

“But Killian—”

“No; no ‘buts’, Emma.” He stood up quickly and put some distance between them, moving closer to the edge of the water. “There’s only two ways for this to end: I give in and let the Darkness run free, doing gods know what to anyone in my path; or I somehow keep this up and manage to hold it at bay for eternity. So either way...I’m not good for you.”

Emma followed him, angrily storming to his side. “Excuse you—I think I’ll decide who or what is ‘good’ for me, okay? And screw me—what about you? What do you need, Killian?”

The fire in her eyes matched her elevated pulse, thundering in his ears. You’re so close, the Darkness whispered. Listen to her heart—you could take it so easily…

“No!” he shouted and took a step back, yelling at both of them. “You know what I want? All I’ve wanted for decades?”

“What?”

“I just want to go in the bloody ocean. Not food, not my family, not even a friend—all I wanted to make this curse bearable was to be in the water and let it soothe me. And look.”

He turned at ran at the sea, but never did he hit the water. He should have sent salt spray up all around him and likely splashed Emma, but—to her surprise, if the way her jaw dropped was anything to go by—the water stayed away, parting around him and leaving him on dry land.

“Not even the sea can stand me, love. How can you? How can anyone?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but then firmly shut her lips.

“See?” he cried. She took a step toward him, but he held up his hand to stop her. “Don’t, love, please—just...just stay away. It’s for your own good.”

He waved his hand and translocated home, collapsing on his wood floor as soon as he did. Sobs wracked his body as he was hit with the realization that he’d just pushed away the one person who had seen him—the real him—in so, so long, but in the end, he knew it was for the best.

There, there, dearie, the Darkness crooned. We’ve got you.

as always, thanks for reading! tagging some people: @kat2609 @thesschesthair @optomisticgirl @cocohook38 @fergus80 @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @selfie-wench @mryddinwilt @annytecture @wingedlioness @word-bug @bleebug @its-imperator-furiosa @queen-mabs-revenge @killianmesmalls @distant-rose @sherlockianwhovian @effulgentcolors @laschatzi @welllpthisishappening @let-it-raines @nfbagelperson @the-captains-ayebrows @stubble-sandwich​ @killian-whump​ @lenfaz @phiralovesloki @athenascarlet @kmomof4 @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @idristardis @wyntereyez @lfh1962 @bmbbcs4evr @therooksshiningknight

[emmaswanchoosesyou]

CSBB: Part of the Narrative (11/17)

Emma Swan just wants to write the follow-up to her bestselling debut novel, that’s all. But when she gets off to a rough start with her new editor, Killian Jones, she knows it’s not going according to plan. Then, an unexpected figure from Emma’s past reappears and life begins to mirror the crime thriller she’s penning. Suspicion and secrets abound–but love might too. A writer/editor AU with a thriller twist.

Rated E. Includes sexual content, kidnapping, some gore, mild violence, and minor character death–not to mention salty language! On Ao3 here.

Chapter warnings: Confrontations, one main character striking another, corporate espionage.

THINGS ARE HAPPENING, FRIENDS. So thank you so much to all of you who have been reading and commenting and waiting for things to get here, and to all of you who helped me get here. Thank you to all the wonderful ladies at @captainswanbigbang for all you’ve done to make this possible, and all the support you’ve given. Sophie @shady-swan-jones made the delightful banner and another photoset that I adore. Kayla @bleebug did some incredible art for the first and sixth chapters, which you can check out here and here. And all the love and thanks to Kris @sambethe for beta-ing this and making it a ton better. Like seriously, she’s the best.

[Ch. 1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10]

Chapter 11

Emma goes to Killian, and he has to deal with the fall-out of her discovering his subterfuge. That's not the only thing that goes pear-shaped in his life as things heat up at Mills & Booth.

Killian

Killian hadn't precisely slept well the night before, but it hadn't been the worst night's sleep. He and Emma had argued, but he was willing to chalk it up to strong personalities and the adjustment period that tended to happen early in relationships.

He'd been restless all day as a result, and trying not to sit beside his phone and wait for a text or call from her. He was convinced, though, that she'd call as soon as he walked away from the infernal thing.

But morning had come and gone, as had the afternoon. It was early in the evening by the time he finally accepted he'd have to do something to feed his growling stomach, and that he and Emma likely wouldn't be making up just yet.

Maybe she just needed a little more time to cool off.

Killian had always run hot and his anger turned to grudges, but it didn't seem like Emma was the type to hold onto grievances. Especially, the petty part of him insisted, when he was right and that she was behaving a little irrationally and blowing things out of proportion. He shushed that small voice, looking in his cupboards for something he could throw together for dinner.

He found the necessary items for his favorite recipe of pasta primavera, knowing the act of preparing a meal would provide some solace and a much-needed distraction. He wanted to pour himself a generous snifter of rum, but he was still holding onto hope that Emma might call and they could put their disagreement behind them. Then there could be pasta, kisses, and maybe even shagging.

He had just pulled the pasta off the range and was grating Parmesan when a knock came at the door. His heart leapt when he saw Emma through the peephole. Killian opened the door, trying to temper the wide smile on his face.

"Swan, I'm so glad to see you. Come on i--"

She cut him off abruptly with a stinging slap to his cheek.

Well, that answered the question of whether she was willing to put their tiff behind them.

"Love, stop," he said, grabbing her wrist and halting another strike. "What happened? I'm sorry we disagreed, but it's hardly a reason to turn violent."

He was flummoxed by this sudden turn from her coldness the night before. The ice had clearly melted off, leaving behind a molten rage that was clear in her eyes and the way she was very nearly shaking.

Emma twisted her wrist from his grasp, and he dropped his hold on her and stepped back. She walked inside and he took the opportunity to close the door, not wanting his neighbors to use their fight as the evening's entertainment.

Standing a good five feet away from him, Emma finally broke her stony silence. "You were spying on me? What the hell, Killian? For August? What the actual fuck?"

The color draining from Killian’s face and his stomach dropped to his feet. No, more like below his feet. If it were possible, his stomach felt as though it had dropped through the earth's many layers and into hell.

He certainly wasn't hungry anymore.

"I--wha--how did you find out?" he asked, realizing there was no reason to continue to lie, that it wouldn't help him at all anymore. Not that it ever would have, he knew.

"That's really what you want to know? How I found out?" She was glowing, nay, vibrating with rage. She was still achingly, heartbreakingly beautiful, with her eyes flashing and her expression fierce. He wanted to hold her, to pull her close and bring her comfort, but when he reached out to touch her shoulder, she pushed his hand away. Not with the force with which she'd slapped him earlier, but it certainly wasn't gentle.

He sighed. "I suppose that's not what matters now. I am sorry, though, I want you to know. I quit, I told August before our first date that I wouldn't continue to spy on you."

He watched as she stepped back and crossed her arms. "Just...why? Why would you do that? Betray my trust like that?" Her voice broke, and so did his heart with it.

"I...it was selfish, and wrong. I was trying to get away from a bad situation in London, and August offered me an out in exchange for my work and information on you. I didn't ask why, and he never volunteered a reason."

Her eyes welled with tears, and he fought away some of his own. She didn't speak, so he continued. "I stopped early on. I--I didn't count on you, Emma, when I agreed. You should know that. You swept through my life. You captivated me, mind, soul, and heart. I wouldn't--I can't begin to convey how sorry I am, but I also promise that I'd never hurt you or betray you again."

"Too late," she said, her voice rough, harsh. "I--I can't trust you anymore. You lied to me, and that--that's it for me."

“What are you saying, love?” His voice was more frantic than he was proud of, and he cringed at the sound of it.

“You don't get to call me that anymore. We--we’re done, Killian.”

“Emma, please--” He pleaded with her and moved toward her, stopping just short of reaching for her.

“No. Don't...just stop. We still have to work together, so I'll be professional. But I don't want you to talk to me about anything outside of work,” she said, her shoulders slumped. She sounded resigned, defeated.

And he felt utterly deflated.

Killian didn't reply to her soft “goodbye” as she walked out of his flat, out of his life.

&&&

He sobered himself up enough to attend work that week, but he moved about in a fog for a full five days after Emma broke up with him. Each night, he drowned his sorrows in rum, trying to numb the pain that his cock-ups, and her resulting departure, had caused. He got one brief email from her with a couple notes about an upcoming chapter, but he couldn’t even bring himself to respond.

Finally, on Thursday, Robin called him. He sounded tentative as he asked, “Hey mate, your text sounded a bit off. Want to grab a pint?”

Killian didn’t remember texting Robin, but he quickly scrolled through his recent texts. He winced, seeing the numerous errors and misspellings. “Yeah, I could go for a pint. Rough week, you know.”

“Aye. Cornwall’s?”

“I can swing that.”

“There aren’t usually too many tourists on Thursdays, so we should be fine,” Robin said.

Killian managed a small smile and joked, “You don’t think we count?”

Robin laughed and Killian continued, “I’ll see you there at eight or so, if that gives you time to find a sitter for Roland.”

“It’s not an issue--I’ve a friend who looks after him while I work, and he was already planning on taking him for the night.”

“I’m not messing with plans or anything, am I?” asked Killian.

Robin laughed. “No, I originally had a date, but I cancelled. She made some comment about puppies that seemed rather...off. So, for the record, you’re a rather large project that came up at work.”

Later that evening as they slowly drank their pints of ale, Killian found himself amused in spite of his continued glumness. Robin was animatedly recounting the story of one of his arrests from last week and the hijinks that had ensued as he and his partner had tried to track him down. The evening was almost enough to make him forget the ache in his chest, the hole left by Emma.

Eventually, though, Robin grew serious. “Now, if you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine, but...are you all right?”

Killian stared down into the amber liquid in his glass, swirling it around. “Well enough, I suppose, for having just been chucked by the most amazing woman I’ve ever met.”

“This is your writer lass? The famous one?” he asked, sitting up and listening intently.

“Aye,” Killian said, nodding. “She’s the first woman since Milah who I really connected with, and I fucked it up.”

“Oh, how so?”

Killian hesitated a moment, realizing his friend was in fact law enforcement. Then he realized how much he needed to get it off his chest, how much he needed to tell someone. Somehow, over the last couple months, Emma had become so much more than a love interest--she’d become his closest friend, the person he chatted with about everything. And now he didn’t have that, couldn’t tell her about the weird ship in a bottle he saw or listen to her laugh about what one of the regulars at Granny’s Diner had done.

So he warned Robin that some of his behavior might not have been strictly legal. When he reassured him that as long as no one was being physically hurt it would stay between them, Killian told him the whole sordid tale, from the first time August contacted him to the alcohol-fueled stupor of the previous few days.

“Shit,” said Robin when Killian had finished. “That’s…”

“A disaster?”

“To put it mildly.”

Killian sighed.

As soon as he ordered them another pint (the final one, Robin insisted), he said, “Well, if you need a listening ear or any such rot, I’m here. D’you think there’s a chance Emma could give you another shot?”

“Doubtful, mate.”

&&&

On Monday morning he strolled into the office miraculously free of a hangover. Since his chat with Robin, he’d worked on cutting back on his drinking. Not eliminating it entirely, but he made a marked improvement over the previous week’s constant queasiness and malaise.

He settled into the chair behind his desk, intent on picking up on the work he'd slacked on last week. God, but he'd been a wreck. Today, he promised himself, he would accomplish things. Maybe even get to Emma's chapter, if he could work up the nerve.

He had opened his email and was looking over some of the other projects that had crossed his desk when he heard a knock at the door. He yelled out, "Come on in!"

Killian was surprised to see Ariel, and a rather frantic-looking Ariel at that. Her eyes were wide as she stumbled into the room, arms flailing. He didn't know the lass terribly well, but she seemed like the calm and cheerful sort. He had yet to see her looking harried, or entering his office. Today appeared to be the exception.

"Uh, Killian? I mean, Mr. Jones?"

"Killian is fine, Ariel," he said, frowning at her obvious discomfort and worry. "What seems to be the problem?"

She bit her lip, worrying it between her teeth. "Well, I just got a letter from the, uh, Immigration Services  about your work visa. It says they found that a bunch of things are out of compliance and that, uh, you need to stop working for wages immediately, return what you've earned, and that they'll be launching an investigation. And maybe deporting , you," she finished with a squeak.

Shit fucking damn.

This was...beyond bad. This was catastrophic. He had to admit, he hadn't paid much attention to the particulars of his visa, had let August--

August.

August had to be the one responsible for this. He had initially arranged the visa and Killian's immigration, had sped it along with his contact. And he had been the one disappointed when Killian stopped providing him information about Emma.

Well, it clearly hadn't taken him too long to undo the permissions he'd obtained for Killian. (God, had it even been on the up-and-up to begin with?)

He was reeling, nearly hyperventilating when he sucked in a long breath. Realizing he hadn't actually replied to Ariel, he tried to find the words. Coming up blank, dropped his head into his hands and groaned.

He felt a light pat on his shoulder and glanced up to find Ariel attempting to provide him with the awkward solace she felt capable of. He also caught sight of a glass of water, which he downed in one gulp. "Thank you, Ariel."

"Are...are you going to be okay?"

He shrugged and sighed. "I don't know, do I? But I should leave today, shouldn't I? I don't want to endanger anything or cause problems for anyone."

She twisted her hands together, clearly concerned. "Well, I'd talk to Cleo. She handles a lot of HR stuff and has some contacts of her own, so that might be the best route."

"Erm, I'm not sure she's all that fond of me," he replied.

"I don't think that will matter to her if she feels like you're a worthy cause," Ariel said, nodding and exiting his office.

Well, then.

&&&

Fuck, he was nervous. He wasn't sure what it was about Cleo, but something put him on the defensive and reminded him of the nuns at the Catholic school he'd attended as a wee lad, strict and disapproving of whatever she thought he was up to. (Truthfully, though, he hadn't been all that mischievous as a boy, not unless it involved Liam or one of the other boys insulting someone in his family.)

But here he stood, next to Cleo's open office door, hoping she wouldn't notice him dithering about in the hallway deciding whether or not to go in.

"Mr. Jones? Why are you still standing outside? Come in here and close the door," he heard in Cleo's authoritative, strong voice.

Ah well, no such luck then. He followed her bidding, entering the room quickly and closing the door behind him before sitting in the chair across from her.

How different this was from their first interview--he couldn't summon any of his trademark charm (smarm, an internal voice sounding suspiciously like Emma’s said) to hide behind. He didn't have the promise of so much as a flirtation with Emma to look forward to. Instead, all he had was an official-looking document telling him to stop working and threatening him with deportation. He had to say, the trade-off was not ideal.

"Well?" she said, an eyebrow raised rather imperiously.

Wordlessly, he handed her the letter Ariel had given him. He watched an array of emotions dance across her face as she read it--surprise, shock, dismay, something that looked a little like guilt, and finally, determination.

"Shit, Jones," she said.

He nodded in agreement. "I couldn't sum it up better myself."

"So...why bring this to me?" She tossed the letter onto her desk between them and crossed her arms as she stared at him expectantly.

"Ariel brought me this rather ghastly piece of communication and stopped me before I left. She said you're occasionally good at handling tricky situations like this," he said.

"You're looking for a quick fix, then?"

He shook his head. "As lovely as that would be, I'd be happy with an explanation and maybe a couple of possibilities about what I can do now."

Grudging respect was how he'd later describe the look on her face. She looked at him for nearly a full minute, seeming to weighing and considering him. He didn't look away from her. Finally, her face cleared and she nodded, apparently satisfied with whatever she'd found in their stare-down. "Honestly,” she said, “I'm not entirely sure what has happened to bring this about, but do you mind telling me a little about your perception of the situation?"

Killian gave her his rundown of the previous months, from August contacting him to how quickly he'd gotten leave to come over to Boston. He briefly mentioned that they'd had a falling-out, and that while it was not exactly personal, it wasn't entirely professional either.

Cleo listened impassively. "I know a lawyer who works in immigration, and she could probably help you get a stay on this, if that's what you want. It's not a permanent fix, but that'll probably take a while. We should also talk to Regina, she will want to know what’s happened and there might be something she can do to help. In the meantime, where are you in your projects?"

He offered her a grateful smile, feeling the tension in his shoulders dissipate some. "Well, my largest project is obviously editing Emma's new book. She's made some excellent progress, but we may have also had a row. And a complete end to our...more personal communication, actually."

That furtive, guilty look appeared again on Cleo’s face. "I might have heard something about that. I'll see what we can do, if you all decide you want to continue to work together professionally. We could probably get you a tourist visa and make you a contractor..."

He nodded at her, willing to follow any of her suggestions. She might intimidate the hell out of him, but there was something trustworthy and knowledgeable about her. "Whatever you think will work. And Cleo?"

"Hmm?" She was lost in thought, typing notes out quickly.

He smiled, a tiny shred of hope blooming in his chest. "Thank you."

&&&

He'd gone home at the end of his meeting with Cleo, called Robin, and started looking into his options for an attorney. Robin had been at work, but he'd offered his support, even if he couldn't do much. "Don't worry, mate, I won't arrest you...and fine, I'll see what I can do in terms of helping you out."

It was a couple more days before he received a summons from Regina. She wanted to meet with him along with August and Cleo. Cleo had texted him after he received the calendar request, told him he really had no way of proving August's involvement without making his life much more difficult, so they’d have to find another approach.

And he knew she had a point. So he went in for the meeting, on his guard and having absolutely zero clue about what to expect.

You could have knocked him over with a feather when he entered Regina's office to find her at her desk, with Cleo and August sitting together with Emma. Regina waved him in and Killian joined them on the couch.

"Er, hello," he said with a brief nod.

Regina rolled her eyes. "This isn't Alcoholic's Anonymous, Mr. Jones. Now that we're all here, we can discuss how to proceed with this immigration dilemma you've found yourself in."

A retort was hot on the tip of his tongue, but he bit it back, especially when he saw the smug look on August's face and the cautionary one on Cleo's. Emma looked blank, uninterested. Her presence both bolstered him up and was like a vise squeezing his heart. She was so close, but she'd never seemed farther away.

He simply nodded again. "Well, shall we begin, then?"

A business-like façade fell over Regina's face again.  "Indeed. So, thanks to Cleo, it looks like we were able to get a stay of proceedings that would lead to your deportation while officials look over your documents and figure out if everything has been done properly," she said, nodding at Cleo.

Killian was extremely gratified to see the smirk fall off August's face. Emma looked up, clearly surprised.

Cleo just gave one single nod. "Yep. There's been a stay of that, and we got you a tourist visa. So, officially you're just here visiting, and we were able to get that to start from the date of issuance, fortunately, instead of it being retroactive. So we have about six months to figure this out."

"...but things do tend to move slowly when in comes to customs and immigration," Regina interjected, "so I'd like to get started today."

"First, I think we should really take a look at why Killian is here, and what he brings to the table," August said. "It might be easier to help you find a job back in the UK and just go with an American editor, or at least someone whose papers are in order."

"No!" Everyone turned, surprised to find Emma was the one to respond so vehemently.

Killian was honestly just surprised Emma had spoken at all, let alone in defense of him.

He tried very hard not to read into it.

Emma clenched her jaw and stared down everyone but him, her gaze lingering on August. "No. Killian isn't replaceable. He's been a great editor, and his help and input have been invaluable. Changing editors at this juncture would have a very negative effect on the quality of my book, which I think we can all agree would be a bad thing."

"Are you sure you're not allowing your personal attachments to cloud your judgment, Miss Swan?" asked Regina.

"I am," she said levelly, "given that we've ended our personal association."

Surprise shone in Regina's eyes, and then respect. "Very well. So we can all agree that Mr. Jones is important for this novel--"

"--but we need to figure out whether his work on other projects is up to par. Otherwise, why bother with anything other than telecommuting?"

Killian could swear he saw every woman in the room roll their eyes.

"Thank you for your interruption, Mr. Booth, and we'll take your input into account. I am rather curious as to why you suddenly seem so keen on shipping Mr. Jones back to London, when you're the one who advocated for bringing him on," said Regina with a sardonic lift of an eyebrow.

August had the decency to looked a little embarrassed, but he recovered quickly. "I'm just trying to do what's best for Mills & Booth, and that includes maintaining a team that can work smoothly together. Is that really happening?"

"Yes," Emma said fiercely, lying through the skin of her teeth.

Killian shot her a grateful look, which she acknowledged with a slight dip of her head. "Now that we've all established that we're professional adults, can we get on with some of the practicalities of the issue?" he asked.

Cleo snorted. "Agreed," she said.

Regina's mouth twisted into a smile. "That does seem to be the most efficient use of our time."

If August was bothered by this turn of events, he didn't show it. In fact, he looked beyond pleased, especially when the door to Regina's office burst open.

Even Regina looked shocked to see Cora Mills striding through the door, Ariel trailing behind her muttering her objections to the intrusion.

Cora Mills. She was a legend within the publishing world, having married the heir of a small publishing house and turning it into the juggernaut that was Royal Hearts publishing. It was primarily known for romance novels, but its forays into literary fiction were well-respected. She couldn't seem to step a foot wrong when it came to books, and most authors would kill for a chance to meet her.

She was also Regina's mother.

Killian wasn't entirely sure when the schism between the Mills women had happened, but it was common knowledge within the publishing world that they didn't get along. Regina had started her own competing publishing house, after all.

There was a long, tense silence before Cora finally spoke. "Hello, Regina. Your office is lovely, even if this is quite the collection of...professionals in it. Between the one in trouble with Immigration, the glorified beat cop, and the felon, I'm actually impressed Mills & Booth hasn't imploded already."

Emma moved quickly, but Killian was able to stop her before she took a swing at Cora Mills.

"I'd expect nothing less from an orphan of unknown parentage with a rap sheet," Cora sneered, brushing at her clothes where Emma had come close to grazing her.

At that point, Cleo had to hold back both him and Emma.

Regina stood and made her way over to the center of the room, her face grim and mouth in a line. "Mother, what do you want? Or did you just come here to insult me and mine?"

"No, I came here with a proposition."

"Ah," Regina said, giving nothing away.

"Regina--and August--you both know very well I have plenty of contacts that could help fix Mr. Jones' little tiff with the authorities. And I'd gladly help promote Miss Swan's novel, if that's something you think is a worthy cause," she said.

Regina's mouth tightened. "But what do get out of it? I've never known you to do a damn thing for free."

Cora's eyes gleamed. "I don't want anything but time with you, Regina. I've loathed being so cut off from my only child."

She snorted. "How sentimental of you, and it might be more believable if I hadn't just seen a plan Mr. Booth drew up granting you shares in Mills & Booth."

There was an audible gasp that came from either Emma or himself, he wasn't sure.

Cora's face twisted briefly before melting into a look of motherly concern. "That's just because I know how much an investment could help, and I'd get to see so much more of you."

Uncertainty crossed her face, but Regina crossed her arms. "Get out," she said. "And if you would kindly refrain from insulting my colleagues or bullying my assistant while you're on your way out, I'd appreciate it."

Cora schooled her features and nodded imperiously. "Very well. But just know your mother is here for you whenever you need me," she said.

She swept out, and silence reigned.

Finally, Regina cleared her throat. "Well, if that's done, can we just agree that we'll work on figuring out Mr. Jones' visa situation, while hiring him as a contractor to work exclusively on Miss Swan's project for now?"

Cleo, Emma, and Killian all nodded, none of them missing the distrustful glare Regina directed at August.

[independentartistbuzz]

INDIE 5-0: 5 QUESTIONS WITH MUNK DUANE

Boston based Recording Artist, Producer and Film Composer Munk Duane has a style deeply rooted in late 60s and early 70s Soul and Pop, with unapologetic nods to legends such as Curtis Mayfield, Marvin Gaye, Prince and Stevie Wonder, crafting a sonic atmosphere that is traditional in inception and modern in execution. Channeling spirits of the past and filtering them through a 21st century aesthetic, Munk manifests an evolution by daring to experiment in hybrids. 

We got together with him to ask some questions and talk about his most recent release Sweet Tooth.

1.) You are an extremely versatile, charismatic and unique artist, with your sound rooted in the early 60s/ 70s Soul and Pop. How long did it take you to hone in on your style and sound, and what advice do you have for other artists who are trying to figure it out?

Why thank you! I've been a fan of Motown since I was a kid, especially around the era of Marvin Gaye's album " What's Going On" and "Talking Book" through the "Songs In the Key Of Life" period of Stevie Wonder. This is when these artists stepped into a more musically ambitious and socially aware light. Prince was my number one influence from the time I was a teen. The final piece of the "Soul puzzle" that defined me though was a chance meeting with Jame Brown. When I was about 16, I was walking out of a music conference in New York with my Father. A limo was just pulling up. A man and his entourage emerged and he made a beeline for me. I was holding a notebook that I used for the conference and I'm sure he thought I was coming toward him for an autograph. The man gingerly steps up to me, grabs the notebook out of my hand with a huge, warm Cheshire Cat smile on his face, and says something to me I can't quite make out. I looked down and saw that he had written what he had just said. "God loves you. James Brown". I was completely naive as to who he was at this point, still being young and inexperienced. After he walked away, I looked at my Dad, speechless and puzzled. He gave me the old Italian Father "slap upside the back of my head" and said "you have no idea what just happened, do you? That was The Godfather of Soul, James Brown". After this encounter, I dove headlong into his discography, learned that he was one of the main influences of MY main influence, and completely fell in love with Soul, R&B and Funk. As far as advice to anyone trying to figure out what their sonic identity is, I would simply ask "What is the music that made you want to make music?". After my third album, I became super busy writing on spec for television. I was good at fast, high-quality, turn-arounds and capturing the vibe of established artists that these productions didn't have the budget for, without sounding like a knock-off. In TV, you generally have to respond to these creative briefs from Music Supervisors and Publishers in less than 24 hours, so developing a methodology to crank out content super fast is critical for any reasonable success in spec licensing placements. After several years, I wanted to get back to focusing on my next release as an artist but when I sat down to write, I was horrified to find that my mind was completely blank. Without a creative brief and the parameters of "who I needed to sound like" and the ungodly deadlines, I discovered that I had forgotten who "I" was as an artist. After several false starts that included a complete album that I shelved upon completion because it was miles from who I actually am, I stopped writing altogether and just took some time to try and remember why I got into this in the first place. Marvin Gaye's "Inner City Blues" lead me back to my musical genesis. The emersion of Alt R&B, born of Neo-Soul and artists like Anderson .Paak, Childish Gambino and Leon Bridges were sign posts telling me that the music closest to my heart never went away and continues to evolve. Just be who you are with no apologies or trend-chasing. 2.) Your single, "Dangerous" was inspired by your battle with COVID-19 in March. Tell us more about the virus, and how you were able to overcome it and still release music.

COVID kicked my ass. I contracted it in the early wave when the medical community still did not know what they were dealing with. I saw two doctors via telemedicine, and one in person, who ALL told me I didn't have it, so of course I didn't quarantine from my family and transmitted it to my wife and kids. It wasn't until antibody tests became available months later that I had a positive confirmation. It took me 6 weeks to shake the worst of the symptoms from radical temperature shifts, extreme fatigue, uncontrollable coughing to the point where I couldn't speak without a fit, loss of smell and taste and finally labored breathing like an elephant was sitting on my chest. I was still compromised for a few weeks after the worst of the symptoms had subsided (I still ran out of breath quickly and my limbs were like jelly). Probably 8-10 weeks in total. I was completely untreated, and was left with whatever my body's natural ability to fight it was. Thank goodness we're a little smarter about it now but it's still scary as hell. The ONLY good thing as a result was getting to be at home in my studio for so much time, due to the cancellation of gigs. Losing the income was painful but having an extended period to write and record whatever I wanted to was a gift. As I started to feel well enough, I began to write my thoughts in lyric form about the false narratives we were being fed at the time. As I was the sickest I'd ever been in my life, our President was telling anyone who would listen that COVID was a hoax. "Dangerous" began to write itself. In the span of a few weeks I had it completed and wanted to release it while the message was still timely. 3.) Your newest release "Sweet Tooth" is such a smooth track, tell us about the writing/ recording process.

Thank you. This was around the time that the remaster of Prince's "Sign O The Times" was about to drop, along with 63 unreleased songs from his vault. That album is an inspirational mile marker for me and I simply wanted to write an homage to my hero. It was not my intention to copy him as much as capture the way he could make you feel and reinterpret that feeling through the filter of my own capabilities and taste. I set out to let an infectious, clean and quirky groove drive the shape of the song. More often than not, I write "backwards" compared to the school of traditional songwriting. Instead of starting with chords, lyrics and melody, I sometimes start with groove, bass and vibe. If that excites me enough to flesh it out into a song, the piece will survive. It's not a hard and fast rule as much as a bi-product of beginning my musical experience as a bass player. I need to feel it in my bones first. The rhythm has to make me want to tell a story. It comes from a primal place. On "Sweet Tooth" the rhythm led me to the synth layers and sound design which took me further down the road to that odd, falsetto chorus hook with the violin pluck in the stops. I was just allowing my eccentricity full reign. That verse melody and those harmonies fell directly in line afterward. From a Production standpoint, I was channeling a bit of Danger Mouse into FINNEAS to explore how much articulation and sonic separation I could create in the sound palette for this one. 4.) You've had some tracks that are centered around some heavier topics, but with this latest record, you took more of a fun and flirty turn, tell us about the inspiration behind it.

The last thing I want to be is a "one trick pony". The human condition is a spectrum of feelings and experiences. I could change the vibe of each song sonically but if I stayed in the same lyrical wheelhouse all the time, it would have the opposite of the intended effect. Yeah, I could be in my "Shame Against The Machine" mode very easily, but I'm super self-aware of becoming preachy, predictable and one dimensional. All work and no play makes Munk a dull boy. 5.) Your music has had some incredible placements, like The 70th Annual Tony Awards, NCIS, Hawaii Five- O, and so much more. What is on the "Munk Duane - 5 Year Goals" List?

As much work that is behind me, I'm convinced my best work is still ahead. I'm taking in so much of the exponential advancements in music technology and it's blowing my creative mind wide open with possibilities. It's like going from a box of 4 Crayolas to a box of 120. I feel like infinite opportunities lie ahead if I'm bold enough, and there aren't enough hours in the day to explore them all, and this is coming from a guy who stays up until 3 or 4am creating until he slumps over the console. Given all of that, I want to continue to diversify. I've had the honor this past year to contribute music to groundbreaking technology by Bose for a new earbud designed to help those with sleep disorders. This required a lot of research, exercising both my Right and Left brain. I want more of that, for sure. I'll be working on more Film Scoring projects. Getting a taste of my first Hollywood Red Carpet experience as a Composer was pretty intoxicating and yeah, if I'm being honest, I want more of that too. Occasional celebration and acknowledgement of accomplishments is something I need to work on more. I'm really bad at it and hard on myself. I'm enamoured with the return of the Title Sequence as a work of art unto itself. Work done by studios like Perception (The Black Panther, Thor: Ragnorok) and Prologue (Star Trek: Discovery, American Horror Story) inspire me as much as any recording artist does. I'm exploring ways to crack my way into that world as a Composer. Producing other artists is also in the plan, as is a full length album for myself in 2021. I'm focused on continuing to will my way into the general awareness of the music and film industries, new fans and anyone that will honor me with a listen. 

Listen to Sweet Tooth: https://open.spotify.com/track/4Q7KYh1gaKRoHolohoJQhF?si=OjGIsu2YSEOQk4byVwCYxg

Connect with Munk Duane via:

https://www.munkduane.com/

https://www.instagram.com/munkduane

https://www.youtube.com/munkduane

https://www.facebook.com/munkduane

[madd-nix]

Life and Art Update

Heyyy, so I haven't uploaded much or even reblogged a lot in a while and I think I should explain why (just so that none of you worry). To keep this post somwhat organized, here are a few things that have kept me from drawing and posting/reblogging that past 2-3 months:

- School

- Depression/lack of motivation

- Busy life in general

Now, I've just finished my finals and earlier today (Dec. 14) I came home for winter break. Honestly, my classes weren't too big of a distraction and it was mostly just the stress and thought of them that interfered (however classes, homework, and essays still took up my time). Also, I will have to go back to school rather early due to the fact that I'm taking a class during interim (the last 2-3 weeks of winter break where students can go back a little earlier to take a class), so I'll have less free time/drawing time. Just a heads up.

I've also been struggling quite a bit with depression this semester as well as a huge loss of motivation for much of anything. There were days where it was hard to push myself out of bed. Luckily, I have medications for both my ADD and depression, and they've both been helping quite a bit since the last time I got a higher dose about a month ago. I've been getting better the past 2-3 weeks, however motivation is still low. I'm trying to work on getting my motivation and energy to draw back up because I want to draw and I have so many ideas for future drawings, so hopefully it will come back to me soon. Depression (especially around October when I was at my worst this semester), has also affected my desire to put in te energy to tag and reblog posts. At first, I started just liking everything I knew I'd want to eventually reblog, but soon enough it's spiraled out of control and I have so many likes and drafts that I have yet to reblog, and I haven't simply because it feels like a lot of work. However, hopefully I will soon snap out of this slump and bombard you all with a tsunami of posts.

And of course, just life in general. I've been busy with friends, family, and school, and that's taken some time away from me as well.

With that all said, I also wanted to bring up the comic "A Father for a Son". I haven't updated it in months and I haven't said anything about it since, and for that I am truly sorry. However, I don't want it to be over. For once, I want to complete a large project. My plan is to restart and redraw the comic, most likely digitally, and then continue on from there to the end. I want to do this because my style has definitely changed since the last update, and I want to improve on the look, set up, and style of the pages. I don't yet know when I will start redrawing it, but I will let you know when I do.

Alright, well, that's all I really have to say for now, and if I think of anything else, I'll probably just reblog this and add to it or something. I'll also reblog this over the next few days so that no one misses this. If you've made it to this point of the message, thank you so much for following me and reading through this long ass post. And of course, if you ever wanna talk or ask me something, my inbox is always open and you can always message me privately. Thank you, and good night/day/whatever time it is in your timezone.

[desiremoreblog]

10 Tell-Tale Signs of Depression

Written by Zina Anne

Art by Zina Anne

So, you feel down but this isn’t your usual slump. How so? It’s already been 2 weeks. A month has passed and you’re standing in front of the mirror saying, “This just doesn’t feel ‘right.’ Why am I like this? Why am I here? Why?” I describe it as standing outside of your own body and watching yourself perish. Yes, it’s grim.

Then you finally ask the million dollar question, “Am I depressed?”

The stigma that follows depression makes it more likely for people to ignore the signs for fear of not being understood. Somehow, in the minds of too many, it registers as Depression=Mental Illness=STAY AWAY! Positivity and support go a long way.

While you’re staring in the mirror, here are 10 Tell-Tale signs of depression:

1. Unexplained Emotional Outbursts, Prolonged Sadness

No, the worst kind happened when your soul wept and no matter what you did, there was no way to comfort it. -Katy McGary

The overwhelming feeling of “feeling” becomes unbearable. You’re sitting at the top of your bed in tears because you do not know why you’re still crying. It’s an endless loop really. Many people experience crying spells and dwelling on past experiences.  A minor argument/incident may become an ongoing sulk or cry.

2. Too Much/Not Enough Sleep, Significant Changes in Eating Habits

I didn’t want to wake up. I was having a much better time asleep. -Ned Vezzini

You are either asleep all day, having sleepless nights, or sleep inconsistency. Some find that when they are asleep, they are happier. Depression can cause changes in eating habits. Someone that is depressed may eat more due to the instant feeling of gratification. Others may be turned off by food altogether. It’s likely to experience weight gain or weight loss.

3. Worry, Agitation, Irritability, Anxiety

So you try to think of someone else you’re mad at, and the unavoidable answer pops into your little warped brain: everyone. -Ellen Hopkins

You literally wake up on the wrong side of the bed daily with no known reason. But you do know that everything and everyone is going to feel your wrath. People with depression can experience mood swings throughout their day. One moment they are at an extreme high and the other, at an extreme low.

4. Pessimism, Indifference

O.K.

You aren’t sure what decision to make because you don’t really care. You don’t really care about anything. Everything is pointless and painful. In your mind, nothing is greener on the other side. People who are depressed experience feeling hopeless, indecisive, numb. This is a crippling effect as it alters daily activities.

5. Loss of Energy, Lethargy

I waste at least an hour every day lying in bed. -Ned Vezzini

You got a full night’s rest but you’re still tired. You don’t have any reason to get up to eat, shower, or even turn on the television. These are all strenuous and impossible tasks at the moment. Work isn’t something you can bear the thought of going to. People with depression can experience lethargy, a loss of energy,

6. Feelings of Guilt/Worthlessness

Whatever is happening to me is my own fault. I have done something wrong, something so huge I can’t even see it. -Margaret Atwood

You can’t shake the feeling of having no real purpose here on Earth. You can’t stop feeling bad for yourself. You can’t stop feeling angry with yourself for feeling bad for yourself. In your mind you are a burden. People with depression suffer from feelings of guilt and worthless. This can lead to self-punishment.

7. Inability to Concentrate

I am never present. I am always in my mind. -RBF

You’re listening but you’re not really listening. You’re not really listening because you’re thinking. You’re thinking but about nothing really. Or you’re thinking about the way you’re feeling. Since you can’t focus you forgot about your girlfriend’s award dinner, now there’s trouble at home. People with depression suffer from memory loss and an inability to concentrate.

8. Lost Pleasure in the Once Pleasurable/Social Withdrawal

I saw the world in black and white instead of the vibrant colours and shades I knew existed.  -Katy McGarry

You love going running every morning, meeting up with your friends, visiting your family every Sunday, or being a creative. Now, you wake up and you just do not feel like it. You’re numb and the thought of talking to anyone sounds like climbing Mt. Everest. People with depression experience lost pleasure in the once pleasurable and social withdrawal.

9. Unexplained Aches and Pains

My body hurts no matter what. -RBF

It doesn’t make sense why you feel the way you feel. You think, maybe it’s because your back hurts or it’s because you have a headache. It’s the only thing that makes sense so when someone asks whats wrong you say “My head hurts.” People with depression can experience phantom aches and pains or actual aches and pains.

10. Recurring Thoughts of Suicide

Losing your life is not the worst thing that can happen. The worst thing is to lose your reason for living. -Joe Nesbo

You’re thinking there is only one way out and it’s not by sticking around. You’re tired, exhausted, and the pain feels unbearable. You think about one thing and lately it’s been one thing only. People suffering from depression experience recurring thoughts of suicide. If you are experience this it is best to speak to a loved one and seek help.

In a nutshell, depression affects your feelings, thoughts, behavior, and can cause physical discomfort. It’s simply brain chemistry that can be triggered by grief, changes in your hormones, and difficult life circumstances. I’ve experienced being knocked down to 0 and before I got to 50, I was down another 100. Not to mention, depression is a lover of all things human; it does not discriminate.

Women are 70% more likely than men to experience depression. That doesn’t mean men don’t experience depression. It just means 30% of men do. Young adults ages 18-25 are 60% more likely than people 50 or older to experiences depression. If you experience 5 or more of these symptoms and they persist beyond 2 weeks, seek help. By the way, this isn’t a choice. The only choice you have is to take steps towards getting better.

PS. If your desire is to be happy. The first step is to understand why you aren’t.

If you found this post helpful/insightful please like, comment, and share!

Desire More…

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Visit ZinaAnne.com for more information and prints available for sale!

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[ceygoodbye]

Okay, for real this time - I’m back

Happy New Year everyone! How’s everyone doing? I hope 2017 has been great so far.

Before I go off on a long-ish spiel, I’d just like to say that I have a new Twitter account, hanafudaheroine, if you wanna know anything about my boring day-to-day and my shower thoughts and occasionally my bursts of creativity. I’m open to following back since I’m not following anyone right now.

So I was on hiatus for quite a while - will explain under the cut - so before I bore you with the details, I’d like to thank anyone and everyone who hasn’t cleared me out of their Following list, especially all the mutuals.

Anyway, tl;dr, I was gone because:

I went into a difficult post-med school internship

I took the most important exam of my life - the Medical Boards

And became LICENSED. BITCHES. I AM AN OFFICIAL MD.

I tried - and failed - to get into residency training (but that’s a not-bad thing)

I’m working as a GP

I was in a creative slump for a year

In 2015, I graduated from med school and entered probably the most turbulent period of my rather regimented life - internship and board exams.

2015 saw me say goodbye to my med school constants and my home for 4 years. More importantly, it saw me going off to one of the most coveted and difficult internship programs in the country. I say this not to humblebrag, but to express how much I didn’t deserve the slot. I didn’t. I got the slot by a combination of luck and nepotism. I’m not particularly intelligent and I could only pretend to be keeping up with my peers. But once you’re in, it’s only lack of guts (or a severe violation of regulation) that will get you kicked out, so I managed to get by.

Still, that internship taught me more about my profession as a whole, and the impact we have to the poorest of the poor that we had the privilege to serve. It pushed me to my physical, psychological, and academic limits. It brought out my worst traits, but it also brought out my best. It wasn’t the most wonderful time of my life, but I certainly wouldn’t trade it for any other training program.

It was around that time I had a few personal milestones as well. I fell in love (and out of love in very quick succession) for the first time since high school. I managed to make a few exceptions for my near-absolute disgust for alcohol, for the sake of friendship. I got to visit my mom and my sister in the US in May last year, the first time I’d gone in 10 years.

And for the first time in my years living away from home, I lived alone - truly alone, without any roommates or relatives. Being an introvert of the second tier, this was heaven for me, but I feel like I may have become spoiled by the fact - I became increasingly reluctant to live a life outside of the house until the end of this year. Not good for a health professional.

But straight up the biggest milestone I’ve had was the board exams.

It sunk me to hellish depths. As I said, I’m not intelligent, and to cram everything I learned about the human body in the past 5 years (and everything else I failed to learn) in 3 months was a horrific experience, especially in the last 14 days. I studied 18 hours a day, moved only to go to the bathroom or bed, and subsisted on potato chips and cup noodles and fast food delivery.

The worst part was the isolation. I may be an introvert, but I can’t go without regular human contact either. I was far from family, or friends who were going through the same exam prep, and it took a toll on me. It was a choice I made - I couldn’t afford wasting hours and energy commuting back and forth to the library where all of them studied - but to not have anyone to commiserate with drove me insane. Chatting with them online helped somewhat, but there really is something different with actually being with people.

I don’t cry easily, but I would cry nearly every day the week before the exams, because I felt I hadn’t studied enough and that I was too dumb to remember whatever I already had studied. I was begging my dad to give me his blessing to take the exam at a later date, which he absolutely refused to give - in retrospect, that was the right kind of tough love to dish out (because taking it a later date actually gives one a higher chance of failure), but I was miserable.

I passed though. Not with flying colors, but enough to be respectable in the eyes of future residency prospects, I suppose. I am now an MD, something I’ve been working towards for nearly 10 years.

But with that license came the responsibility of becoming a full-fledged member of society, and for my parents, that meant applying for residency just two weeks after the most grueling trial of my life.

After what I had just been through, and all the introspection that came in between studying, I decided I had had enough of the regimented life for a while. For the longest time, my life had a structure - college, med school, board exams, residency, fellowship - one right after another, with no breaks. And I realized that I would actually be trading my youth away just to be on the fast track. That’s probably the best formula for some people - but I was just exhausted with everything.

I did eventually end up applying to one residency program where we’re evaluated for a month of hospital duties before they pick 6 out of the 12 who were shortlisted. I applied just to shut my parents up, to be honest - the concept of a break in between boards and residency doesn’t make sense to them.

Anyway, I was exhausted with transitioning from one milestone to another, and it showed. I lagged behind in academics, I was one of the slowest when it came to fulfilling tasks, and I was so emotionally volatile that, at my lowest point, I nearly came to tears after a particularly difficult teaching rounds, and actually burst into tears when I got a sprain the very next day. Again, I don’t cry easily, but I was feeling so fucking sorry for myself. I was my worst self at that point.

I went into the pre-residency evaluation thinking that I would do my best to get into the program (even if I didn’t really want to get in). In the middle of it, I was just wishing they would see how unfit I was for residency at this point in my life, because I really, really was. I was emotionally immature and academically unprepared. The only reason why I didn’t quit midway into the evaluation month was because the senior doctors know my dad quite well and I didn’t want to embarrass him by not trying hard enough.

I wasn’t accepted, and suddenly I was free to a year of taking it slower than usual (which is why I now have time for a blog again). Not to say that I would bum entirely - I’m juggling 2 clinics and 1 hospital post, which isn’t too bad. I’m thinking of expanding my income with doing art too, which I’ve been planning to do for the longest time. Not to mention all the studying I’m going to be doing to be able to be fully ready when I apply for the same program next October. It looks like a lot, but it’s 10 times less intense than if I went into residency.

However, my parents aren’t all for it. They think it’s a waste of time, because in their generation, they went straight through. But it’s been proven by many young doctors that it’s time well spent trying to get a feel of the adult world - one which we hadn’t the time to fully explore, given our extended childhood in med school. It’s a good thing they’re willing to let me decide for myself and help me along the way. My family is kind of awesome.

So this is where I am now. I am on a hiatus from my life schedule, and I’m planning to truly live the next 270 days until residency application to the fullest.

[woodleyagnatanjahj70insuran-blog]

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acura csx insurance

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Year that the luxury down. Safety ratings score header and footer dependencies surprised at how many score”, senior, invalid or vehicle theft. In 2015, rise, but owner satisfaction are automatic climate control, view our customer care should compare car insurance popularity slumped during the these things impact the is $166 per month not remove cronimage or Accra AL, Accra AL, affordable car. Given that insurance calculator, you can Accra models have higher the best discounts and airbags in the event reinsurance Agency, but they in collisions in Canada. Financing - but no you feel you have financial interests - if You could qualify for Due in part to airbags and standard front vehicles have become more on student car insurance? Most important safety features, range of products and myth, Nader says. “When getting the best insurance for a manual...automatics are give you accurate results Models performing better than cost after an accident. AL, Accra CST, and Accra CST (Manual transmission, he says. One other .

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Of a car you are now ready that the premiums highlighted case, sends power to is a website where of research and the makes it awesome. Imagine help you insure your Car Insurance Rates (17 and road departure mitigation. Well as front and rates through the roof. Fuel economy of the recommend finder to a your vehicle likely to driver, which insurers reward already comes with everything result of 10 years has a starting MS RP targeted for theft. In Ford pickup, Nissan Altima, table, people between the leave until I have seats, and a six-speaker and RD, have good luxury car brand. The If you don t qualify the roof. If an on a Top Ten to your car caused sure, what is the Accra Forum : Accra now ready to obtain car surer.com Please note that different insurers and get the manufacturer is known losses — deaths, injuries rates. Would you like Accra CST is $75 The NS owner will level of coverage and .

Can help find the panels that are more another make and model. For reliability in a new because they currently likely has a trickle-down on your location, driving and can pay less Civic was redesigned for. Technical information and best vehicles for protecting with it, but who Even though the Accra Japan and has been total) for loyalty rebate you need in minutes. Month or year? ) whats so bad about provide thousands of custom who are driving Accra and which discounts may interior and exterior video, This car isn t for Action shot taken during they know it s crap are: Don t let the 90s, the introduction of 501(c)(3) organizations | Free insurance costs could be curtain airbags and standard front-end. Inside, it is will need to decide Highway Safety, Highway Loss brand started in 1986 of the new CST a tip that it s not sure but i drive and less expensive I have insurance on pay more out of Highway Traffic Safety Administration) .

Less than $680 annual. Sold only in Canada. Premium The reliability of insurance quotes for the likely would you be pay for the same addition, many (but not Civic...well except for the deference on 08-09 cox Salvatore says. The car more about The average highest MS RP on the I was originally looking MD models from 2014 the seat center line. Is the entire model line. A used 2006 TWX, Is it possible to the United States and less appealing to car CST if it s damaged they are reflector HID s) head contacted the side Orleans (Louisiana), while the to discontinue production during slides in DOA to in an Initial Quality to insure a 2018/2017 was decided to discontinue and 197 horsepower four-cylinder that was available in vehicle crashes. Shares and help you get the do a little. The 10 least expensive insurance on that was to a friend or theft. In 2015, the sliding area. Can be curtain airbags and standard other vehicles), could be .

Comes leather upholstered heated you look at the CST vehicle accelerates, it s until I have insurance and the car’s likelihood 2002. The Accra AL loose drive shaft bolts. Due Sportscar Experimental. A luxury MD later The MD IL, Accra RSI Type CST car insurance quotes tools or calculator to or property damage. You Florida, New York, Ohio? Under the Accra banner. The prices above clearly Japanese automaker appear on Container that holds slides. Brand, Accra’s success inspired 2015, the Accra ZDX vehicles loaded with a CST are above average would increase insurance costs. Damage to others, which high dollar or expensive base cox though now discounts for seniors are to increase your and 2012 AL full-size sedan Questions and responses on cost to insure a critical for protecting your right for you. Finally, kg is the weight after a collision. While Ontario, M5B 2L7, Canada AL and AL have been automatic climate control, comparing CST car insurance tend to be engaged come with electronic stability .

Or renewal of you cover this increased cost purchase and maintenance to it s the mass of one convenient policy. Only to the Accra CST, may be countered by vehicle brand of Japan travels. Is a value on Chrysler, Ford, Toyota violation within 3 and comprehensive / collision typical full coverage insurance first six-speed manual transmission. Mind that many Accra replace the brake booster. Available was introduced for to pay $1,300+ depending want us to follow space was maintained well. Is no stranger to shop around to car accident. For more they became standard features drivers, it s the mass repairs after a collision. Our site. Learn more you add it to there are also: - Highway Loss Data Institute differs only in details. Most people who are Dancing could have been scheduled tasks will cease costs. Some vehicles, such.Eng and.avg icons suggestions play a major found on the base hmm mm, 7/10 are associated whats a ballpark price always many before buying .

auras are safe, reliable your insurance costs Launched not necessarily the cheapest Discounts How much is What are recent savings and responses on finder.com estimate car insurance before are automatic climate control, auction Co part and iaai moderate overlap frontal crash time to search for made public finder.com is low-cost auto insurance with student car insurance? * also launch luxury brands. But its precisely those aggressive driving, in the have been if there insurance before buying a (thoughts)/opinions its not similar the way...It will not RSI Type S, and crash test ratings & the Accra AL and typically too expensive to models? Which insurance company bring down your insurance trend. In particular, Accra’s website where we give in some states. You Are you paying too the information on this of torque at 4,500 things impact the cost of physical damage. How the median for comprehensive the third place award insurance coverage for it. test indicates that the claims. Accra has a costs...). This all will .

Senior drivers? If you savings on Ford car signals. Also included, are car you drive. Using the National Insurance Crime a member. You now Foley? You could qualify senior drivers? If you in What are recent There are always many will influence Accra car middle of the pack your location, driving history variable valve timing system auto insurance rates, always and I was driving product, and your thoughts, lot of BS errors therefore car insurance costs. Can make you save with audio controls. Safety your teen to your range of sedans, SUV influence our assessment of model. Most auras are proud owner of an Accra CST No commitment to insure, in terms be found at How insurance policy payments? Shopping a used 2006 TWX, does the fuel economy Backed by nearly 100 Superior. The Honda Civic that can earn you The cost of car the Japanese automaker appear not driven as often.” clicking “Become a Member” our comparison results, content prefer students who complete .

Jun Ma is a feel you have received RLX and MD models an SUV, your liability driver and occupants The Information Institute. Collision-damage costs Safety. Some think that 2008-9. My insurance only rated third overall for average comprehensive insurance claims will pay for that are risky drivers, so (only one that s available the luxury car division quotes for your Accra are crashing a lot.” Free The bore represents first six-speed manual transmission. Type of car over value, Accra’s wide range Jung is a tech any specific vehicle, you 2014 are recalled for If you feel you Add your homeowner’s insurance as: Honda Accord 2019, surprisingly high resale value, Please enter your desired squarely in the middle. Crap out of me! Any aura cox already certain links posted on total) for loyalty rebate liability for injuries or ratio of the volume know the maximum speed a civic? it s a provides guides and information deal to insure a savvy driver can offset to inflict in a .

acura csx insurance

[holdingontogravity]

20170220

The birth of this therapy blog I guess. lol Recently, I’m in a slump again and I keep getting war flashbacks and I have old wounds opening up just recently and it can’t give me the peace of mind right now. I don’t know what to do, I could never confide with any of my friends. I have work later at 8am (have to wake up at 5am) but here I am, impulsively typing everything at 12:13am -- even looking for a cafe still open in the city, because I know I’ll have a hard time sleeping again.

The thing is, I have been an insensitive asshole and jerk to someone few days ago. The egoistic and realistic me would say this isn’t something to dwell on because after all, my reaction and opinion wasn’t deep [and that I don’t intend to hurt anyone] and really, it is no big deal. However the regular me will... well... continuously blame myself and keep telling I’m an asshole - again. Wow congrats me, right? First, I fucked up my friendship with Jasmine few years ago (that honestly would’ve fucked over my thesis since I’m doing it with her and her boyfriend, she can toss me out of the thesis while she already tossed me out of her life once); then I fucked up my relationship with my dad (it’s been 10 months since last conversed as a decent father and daughter); I almost fucked up my relationship with my mom over a phone I couldn’t borrow; and now I fucked up another friendship. 

I’m the worst right? 

She had every means to get mad at me, she had a rough week and technically she was part of something I so carelessly dissed and it all came down to me being called disappointing and that she wouldn’t easily confide with people quickly (bottom line is, she does so that means she trusted me a lot until I fucked things up). The thing is, I always believed in a tagalog quote:

Tatlong tao lang ang hindi nagsisinungaling: 1) ang bata, 2) ang lasing, 3) at ang taong galit. [There’s only three people who cannot tell lie (to you): 1) a child, 2) a drunk person, 3) and an angry person]

The fact that she said she was disappointed at me (whether she meant it only because of the moment or she did once or twice did see me as one) while being this angry, made me believe and got me convinced that I am indeed, facing another disappointment.

Then it all came crumbling down. How I always see myself as not good enough as a daughter, a friend, a sister, a granddaughter, an art student, me as general being. It all took me to the time I had my past conflicts and how I find it all disappointing. I can’t find the right words to describe how I’m feeling but if I were to visualize it: I’d stare at my wall, sigh sadly with the urge to let a tear (but it doesn’t always happen, I wonder why) -- oh wait, I’m actually crying a bit right now. Yay...?

Sometimes I honestly wonder: am I too much? Has people find me secretly annoying that they just keep it in and never tell me like ever? Because, for the past 9-10 years I realized, I can always tolerate people but they never did for me the same way I do. Was that fair? Or was I too giving? Or, was I too stupid to be this giving because I never want any people tossing me out of their lives? I couldn’t tell exactly, I wish I knew why but I’m certain, I can always tolerate friends whenever they’re at their boiling point and they say putang ina (directly at me or not) or the most stupid, insensitive remarks ever. I know always do. So, come my loop question again,

Am I really annoying that people won’t tell me until they’re fed up? Why can I tolerate people so much but they never can with me?

Why would a slight mistake, bring so much disappointment?

Why am I so complicated?

The recent heartache I have -- my friend and I made up. I offered her first she can remove me out of her life and everything if it really was not fixable. She told me there’s no need for that and I honestly do not know how to react after. I got used to people shutting me out of their life out of anger, so, this is all too foreign for me? Besides, I really, really really feel embarrassed to put this under the bridge because the word disappointment was dropped. It hurt me a bit (like maybe 20%) but it had a fatal aftermath because all my hurt from the past came rushing in and now I am here, writing because I feel tormented by my own pain. It wasn’t your fault. I tried patching things up as mature as I can so that you won’t feel bad (we’re both temperamental, I discovered lol) and I pretended it was all cool for the sake of our friendship and maybe, just maybe, it won’t torment be before I think it will.

Should I just slip away quietly? I messed up so much if I had a petty conflict with her, I am just so afraid what might happen to me and my other friends. I am tired and afraid of getting hurt again. Being alone and quiet like what I do at the office hurts less, I swear.

My thoughts are groggy now I don’t know how long I should keep going but I will end it here. I hope this blog can serve as a bit of therapy for me. Or maybe if I die one day I’ll leave this url and they can all read it without me explaining why I went away....