#have the nerve to not even be using the oil correctly

[sanyu-thewitch05]

Listen good and well ⚪️ people, Mielle is not for you(only exception is if you have wavy hair) when the bottle says “it’s for all hair types��� it means it’s meant for OUR(BLACK) hair types which is coily, curly to wavy hair( and even then, the wavy hair on black people is different than the ones on white people.)

Mielle even tells you itself that it’s not for the average white person when you do their hair test on their website that selects products that fit your needs

It’s asking about CURLS! Something most of you powder bandits don’t even have.

Mielle is not a brand for you. Leave the black products alone.

And for those of you are going to say “oh, we should support black business!” “Y’all are trying to stop her bag!”

Monique will be just fine with black or curly haired people supporting her. She doesn’t need you white people to survive, black people don’t need you to survive.

Madam CJ Walker, the first black and female self made millionaire, didn’t need white people to being her products to support her. Which we all know no white person was about to be going near a black persons hair products in the early 1900’s. It was black people who made her a millionaire by buying her products.

Overall, stop buying black peoples products when you know good and well it isn’t meant for your hair. Especially when you’re only using it because some white influencer told you so and now you wanna make ish trending.

[notinmymovie]

SECRETS

PAIRING: Amanda Young x fem!reader WORD COUNT: 600+ REQUESTED: No SUMMARY: Apprentice!reader and Amanda grow closer as the days pass. As feelings grow so do secrets shared and the inevitability of being vulnerable.

Even if you tried to deny it, if not only for the sake of guarding both of your hearts—it was there. An undeniable spark, a rising tension. You grew to care about Amanda more than you ever would have anticipated, and even in spite of herself, she cared about you just the same.

You were a surprise to everyone. An apprentice no one would have predicted ever having the guts to become one. At first, there was a hint of animosity between the two of you. While not quite threatened by you, Amanda was unsure of you. And maybe a little jealous of anyone else deemed worthy by John. But even from the start, despite the situation, you were always more interested in earning Amanda’s attention, falling into her good graces.

And now, the two of you worked together like a well oiled machine. Almost mirroring each other in ways, it seemed like you brought a certain balance to one another. She taught you some things, you gave her a new perspective on others. It was a cycle of seeing and being seen, which in turn gave you both a clearer vision.

Right now, in the workshop—you should be keeping yourself busy, making yourself useful. But instead you can’t help but be caught up in watching Amanda work. Noticing the way her brows furrowed and how strong yet delicate her hands worked on whatever surely deadly machine she was creating. Her eyes linger over the plans as your eyes linger over her.

“You’re beautiful,” you can’t help but blurt out. When her eyes shoot up from the plans spread across the table, you feel your own widen. “Sorry.”

She looks puzzled at first, then like she’s contemplating her next move, just what to say. Then you see a smirk cross her face. “You mind repeating that?” She says. “I’m not sure I heard correctly.”

You can immediately feel your face turn hot, no doubt flushing red. Still, you try your best to steel your nerves. “I said—you’re beautiful.” You take a deep breath, still just a little embarrassed. “I like watching you work,” you say softly.

Her smug expression softens just a bit. “Really?” she asks, brow quirking. She was obviously taken aback. “Come over here,” she says.

And you do, naturally following her words. You lean over, seeing the elaborate plans and the half built contraption. You’re practically in awe. “Wow,” you say, nearly breathless. “You’re kind of amazing.” When you look up, she’s leaning forward too, putting you in close contact. It makes you much more conscious of your dreamy eyed compliment.

She grins, “you really seem to like complimenting me today.”

“I’d say you deserve it every once in a while.” You say, eyes meeting hers.

“You know, sometimes I almost forget that soft little girl that came to us. You’re a lot rougher now these days.” Amanda says casually. “But then sometimes, I still see it in you.”

It was something you both shared, feeling so deeply. That irrationality, the impulsivity—though you sometimes could balance each other out, it was still like a wound that never stopped bleeding.

“You’re softer than you want to think you are too,” you say. 

She smiles, a lot gentler than you’ve ever seen. But then she leans in even closer, gently pulls you forward to whisper in your ear, “well, I guess that can be our little secret.”

She doesn’t let go just yet and in the close proximity you venture to say, “does it have to be our only one?”

Now she pulls away, some kind of glint in her eye. “Not if you don’t want it to be.” You can’t help but smile at that, a smirk clearly tugging at her own lips too. “Stick around, since you like watching, I might as well teach you something.”

You simply nod, feeling electrified.

A/N: just a random little thing that popped into my head. Might add more to this particular little AU later, might not. Hope you liked it either way. <3

[transgenderuwo]

think "Gweilo" [...] but worse; it's not just about being a foreigner it's about not being a part of The Chosen People and thus [subhuman]

Greetings 紅毛鬼! Shut the fuck up about shit you couldn't even have bothered to do basic research about!

You've got some REAL gall to compare East Asians getting pissy with your precious whiteboys doing an oopsie martial law and yellow-peril colonialism on us to fucking Nazism. Oh, woe is your precious little whiteboy army man, slurred against by the people he's holding at gunpoint because those goddamn chink savages aren't bending at the knee to be an assimilationist good boy who obeys every whim of the USA. Woe is the army man who will return atop a chariot of unearned, stolen valor, he who will go on to tell his fellow Yankees that those funny stone lions are called Foo Dogs because he thinks they're all from fucking Fuzhou, China – they called him a fucking sheet ghost! Oh my god, the nerve to hatecrime him like that!

Are you having fun? Have you sucked up to colonialism enough by saying so much bullshit to fucking "win the Internet argument" that is this real genocide? If you haven't noticed, all of this hoo-hah about defending holocaust inversion is antisemitism (shocker!), and acknowledging that isn't magically anti-Palestinian. You may also have correctly noticed that all of this shit is inherently, inseparably colonialist rhetoric and anti-indigenous racism!

It's abrasive, yeah. It's based in racial characteristics, of course. But is it a slur? Absolutely the fuck not. Do not pass go, do not collect $200. A slur is necessarily a reminder of and threat based in institutional, structural power. Your precious little whiteboy army men forcibly injecting themselves into East Asia by getting us addicted to opium before continuously tearing down our ancestral homeland forests for shitty palm-oil plantations, backed by the continuous trauma of innumerable warped creations of our own – once for celebration, now for indiscriminate dehumanization and murder – not to mention countless weapons, some nuclear, used on civilian populations and the threat that they can and would do it again, is not being oppressed by slurs when called a White Devil. God for-fucking-bid the people whose families still live in the shadows of Agent Orange and the Trinity project get pissy with the perpetrators and call them White Devils for it.

And guess what! This same logic is behind Jewish people calling gentiles "goyim"! If you genuinely think that there is some enormous Jewish institution that gives people the structural power to oppress your poor whiteboys getting called "goyim," "gaijin," and "gweilo" because said whiteboys were sucking colonialism's toes, then I have some unfortunate news about who the nazi in this conversation is.

Your feelings being hurt have nothing to do with whether or not a slur is a slur.

when na tive news reblogs a post abt u and goyim go absolutely feral in the notes.

[plasticgelo]

NE PLUS ULTRA DRIFT PREP 03

Today was spent re-do-ing my leaky valve cover gasket. Easy to do! It was nerve racking to ensure the gasket and RTV sealed the engine correctly. Engine oil distribution is not to be played around with!

thank you kyle for running around with my camera. We brushed the underside of the cover with degreaser and cleaned it off with brake cleaner. A light wire brush was used to get some of the caked oil from the back of the cover.

I painted the valve cover wrinkle black and cleaned up the letters on the top. I also scratched the paint while putting it back in.

Vic also finally mounted his front bar. his car looks very proper.

Vic also brought out the jzx, which is very rare to see him do.

We are pushing through all the prep! It feels great to make progress, even if it is small tasks. It feels even better to tend to all of the little things on the silvia that have gotten neglected since moving to LA. Next is a proper transmission and differential fluid flush, mount some tires, and a once over bolt check. I have something loose somewhere in my front subframe.

1 week to go~

[homeimprovementway]

Turpentine Oil: Benefits and Precautions

Turpentine oil is a fluid derived from distilling resin from living trees, primarily pines. It's used as a specialized solvent and for organic syntheses, with various applications in industries. Turpentine poisoning can lead to severe symptoms such as hematuria, renal failure, and even death, emphasizing the importance of handling it carefully. While mildly toxic if used correctly, turpentine can cause allergies and irritation, making it crucial to follow manufacturers' recommendations. Additionally, turpentine oil can be applied topically for pain relief and as a flavoring agent, showcasing its versatility. Despite its historical use as a solvent, turpentine has been largely replaced by petroleum-derived alternatives due to cost-effectiveness.

Effects Of Consuming Turpentine Oil

Turpentine oil is a fluid obtained by distilling resin from living trees, primarily pines. While it is mainly used as a specialized solvent, it also serves as a source of material for organic syntheses. However, consuming turpentine oil can have severe and potentially lethal effects on the human body. Toxicity Symptoms When turpentine oil is ingested, various signs and symptoms of toxicity may develop. These include hematuria, renal failure, loss of vision, chest pain, vomiting, severe coughing, gastroesophageal hemorrhage, hypotension, and swelling of the throat. The ingestion of turpentine oil can lead to serious health complications and even death. Lethal Dangers Turpentine oil is thought to be only mildly toxic when used according to manufacturers' recommendations. However, if ingested, it can pose lethal dangers to human health. Turpentine oil exposure causes eye irritation, headache, dizziness, and vomiting. Moreover, prolonged exposure to turpentine oil can lead to an allergic reaction in some individuals. Therefore, consuming turpentine oil should be strictly avoided to prevent serious health risks.

Is Turpentine Oil Healthy?

Turpentine oil is primarily used as a solvent and for organic syntheses. However, it is thought to be only mildly toxic when used according to manufacturers' recommendations. It can cause eye irritation, headache, dizziness, and vomiting, and is applied to the skin for joint pain, muscle pain, nerve pain, and toothaches. Mild Toxicity Turpentine is considered mildly toxic when used as per manufacturers' recommendations. It can be absorbed through the skin and prolonged exposure may lead to allergies. Symptoms of turpentine exposure include eye irritation, headache, dizziness, and vomiting. Allergies And Side Effects Some individuals may develop allergies to turpentine with long-term exposure. Turpentine oil is commonly applied topically for joint pain, muscle pain, nerve pain, and toothaches. It is also used for inhalation to relieve chest congestion associated with certain lung conditions.

How To Use Turpentine Oil

Turpentine oil is a versatile substance with various applications. Here are some ways to effectively use turpentine oil: Topical Application When using turpentine oil topically, apply it to the skin for joint pain, muscle pain, nerve pain, and toothaches. Inhalation Inhale the vapors of turpentine oil to reduce chest congestion associated with certain lung diseases. Food And Beverages Distilled turpentine oil can be used in foods and beverages as a flavoring agent.

Main Uses Of Turpentine Oil

Turpentine oil, a fluid obtained by the distillation of resin harvested from living trees, mainly pines, is a versatile substance with various applications. Its main uses range from being a solvent to finding its place in the chemical industry, offering a wide array of benefits and applications. As A Solvent One of the primary uses of turpentine oil is as a solvent. It is extensively used for thinning oil-based paints, producing varnishes, and as a raw material for the chemical industry. Although its use as a solvent in industrialized nations has largely been replaced by turpentine substitutes obtained from petroleum, turpentine oil still holds its place as a reliable and effective solvent, especially in traditional and specialized applications. In The Chemical Industry Turpentine oil plays a crucial role in the chemical industry, serving as a source of material for organic syntheses. Its chemical properties make it a valuable ingredient in various industrial processes, contributing to the production of a wide range of products. From organic syntheses to specialized chemical applications, turpentine oil continues to be a fundamental component in the chemical industry, showcasing its versatility and importance in modern manufacturing and production processes.

Different Types Of Turpentine Oil

Turpentine oil comes in various types, including gum spirits, wood, and sulfate turpentine. It is commonly used as a solvent for oil-based paints, varnishes, and as a raw material for the chemical industry. However, it can be toxic if ingested and should be used with caution. Turpentine oil is a popular solvent that is widely used in various industries. However, not all turpentine oils are the same. There are different types of turpentine oil available in the market, and each has its unique properties and uses. In this section, we will discuss some of the most popular types of turpentine oil. Humco Turpentine Liquid Pure Gum Spirits Humco Turpentine Liquid Pure Gum Spirits is a high-quality turpentine oil that is derived from pine trees. It is a natural and pure gum spirits turpentine that is free from any additives and impurities. Humco Turpentine Liquid Pure Gum Spirits is a versatile solvent that can be used for various applications, including thinning oil-based paints, producing varnishes, and cleaning brushes. Dr. J.H. McLean Volcanic Turpentine Oil Pain Relieving Liniment Dr. J.H. McLean Volcanic Turpentine Oil Pain Relieving Liniment is a unique turpentine oil that is specially formulated to relieve pain and inflammation. It contains natural ingredients such as turpentine oil, camphor, and menthol, which work together to provide fast and effective relief from muscle and joint pain. Dr. J.H. McLean Volcanic Turpentine Oil Pain Relieving Liniment is easy to apply and is suitable for all skin types. Klean Strip Turpentine Klean Strip Turpentine is a high-quality turpentine oil that is ideal for thinning oil-based paints and producing varnishes. It is a pure gum spirits turpentine that is free from any additives and impurities. Klean Strip Turpentine is easy to use and provides excellent results. Baar Products Rectified Turpentine Oil Baar Products Rectified Turpentine Oil is a high-quality turpentine oil that is derived from pine trees. It is a natural and pure gum spirits turpentine that is free from any additives and impurities. Baar Products Rectified Turpentine Oil is a versatile solvent that can be used for various applications, including thinning oil-based paints, producing varnishes, and cleaning brushes. Winsor & Newton Distilled Turpentine Winsor & Newton Distilled Turpentine is a high-quality turpentine oil that is ideal for artists and painters. It is a pure gum spirits turpentine that is free from any additives and impurities. Winsor & Newton Distilled Turpentine is easy to use and provides excellent results. It is perfect for thinning oil-based paints and producing varnishes. In conclusion, there are different types of turpentine oil available in the market, each with its unique properties and uses. When choosing a turpentine oil, it is important to consider the application and the quality of the product. Choose a high-quality turpentine oil that is free from any additives and impurities for best results.

Frequently Asked Questions

What Is The Use Of Turpentine Oil? Turpentine oil is a solvent used in thinning paints, producing varnishes, and in organic syntheses. Is Turpentine Toxic To Humans? Turpentine is toxic to humans if ingested and can cause serious health issues, including organ damage and death. What Was Turpentine Used For In The Old Days? Turpentine was used as a solvent for thinning oil-based paints, producing varnishes, and in organic syntheses. What Is Turpentine Best Used For? Turpentine is best used as a solvent for thinning oil-based paints, producing varnishes, and in industrial processes.

Conclusion

Turpentine oil is a versatile solvent derived from tree resin. Its uses range from industrial applications to medicinal purposes like pain relief. However, caution is necessary due to potential toxicity if not used properly. Explore its benefits thoughtfully for safe and effective utilization. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5fexfzC5UrY Read the full article

[brizy-products]

How to Rub Your Stomach Away: The Simplest and Most Natural Way to Lose Weight is by This Effortless Two-Minute Exercise

Do you want to lose weight without spending hours at the gym or following a strict diet? Do you want to get rid of that stubborn belly fat that makes you feel uncomfortable and insecure? Do you want to enjoy a flat and toned stomach that boosts your confidence and health?

If you answered yes to any of these questions, then you’re in luck. Because in this article, I’m going to reveal a simple and natural way to lose weight that only takes two minutes a day. And the best part is, you don’t need any equipment, supplements, or special skills. All you need is your hands and a little bit of time.

Sounds too good to be true, right? Well, it’s not. It’s actually based on scientific evidence and proven results. And it’s called stomach massage.

What is Stomach Massage and How Does It Work?

Stomach massage, also known as abdominal massage, is a gentle, noninvasive technique that involves rubbing and kneading the skin and muscles of your belly in a circular motion. It has been used for centuries in various cultures and traditions, such as Chinese medicine, Ayurveda, and Thai massage, to treat a variety of health issues, such as digestion, constipation, bloating, and stress12

But did you know that stomach massage can also help you lose weight and burn fat? That’s right. According to some scientific studies, stomach massage can help you:

Break down fat stored in your body. Stomach massage can stimulate the lymphatic system, which is responsible for transporting and eliminating waste products and toxins from your cells. By improving the lymphatic flow, stomach massage can help your body get rid of excess fat and fluids that cause weight gain and cellulite

Boost your metabolism and burn more calories. Stomach massage can increase the blood circulation and oxygen supply to your abdominal organs, such as the liver, pancreas, and intestines. These organs play a vital role in regulating your metabolism and digestion, which affect how many calories you burn and how much fat you store. By enhancing their function, stomach massage can help you burn more calories and fat, even when you’re resting56

Reduce your appetite and cravings. Stomach massage can activate the vagus nerve, which connects your brain and your gut. The vagus nerve is involved in controlling your appetite and hunger signals, as well as your mood and emotions. By stimulating the vagus nerve, stomach massage can help you feel fuller and more satisfied, and reduce your cravings for unhealthy foods

As you can see, stomach massage can have a powerful effect on your weight loss journey. But how do you do it correctly and safely? And how often should you do it? Don’t worry, I’m going to show you exactly how in the next section.

How to Do Stomach Massage for Weight Loss: A Simple and Effective Guide

Stomach massage is easy and convenient to do. You can do it anytime and anywhere, as long as you have a comfortable and private place. You can do it before or after a meal, in the morning or at night, or whenever you feel like it. You can do it by yourself or with the help of a professional massage therapist. You can even use some essential oils, such as peppermint, ginger, or lavender, to enhance the benefits and the experience

Here are the steps to follow to do stomach massage for weight loss:

Lie flat on your back on a firm surface. You can use a bed, a couch, a mat, or the floor. Make sure you’re relaxed and comfortable. You can place a pillow under your head or knees if you need to.

Rub your hands together until they feel hot. This will warm up your hands and increase the blood flow to your fingers. You can also apply some essential oil to your palms if you want to.

Place one palm flat on your navel, the other behind your head or neck. This will help you stabilize your body and protect your spine. You can also place both hands on your belly if you prefer.

Slowly rub your belly with gentle pressure in small circles clockwise around your navel. Start from the right side of your stomach near your pelvis and move your hand upward until you reach your rib cage. Then move your hand straight across to the left side, down, and back to the right. Follow the pattern in ever-tightening concentric circles, always moving clockwise, until you reach your navel again. This will cover the entire area of your abdomen and stimulate all the organs and muscles underneath10

Repeat the circular motion for about 10 minutes. You can adjust the speed, the pressure, and the duration according to your preference and comfort level. You can press more deeply with your fingers in spots where you feel more tightness or tension. You can lighten your touch around sore areas or areas where you have scars or wounds. You can also pause and hold your hand on a specific spot for a few seconds to increase the effect. The key is to listen to your body and do what feels good for you.

Relax and breathe deeply. When you’re done with the massage, take a few moments to relax and enjoy the sensation. Breathe deeply and slowly, and feel the warmth and energy in your belly. You can also place both hands on your belly and gently rock your hips from side to side to release any tension. You can also stretch your arms and legs and roll your head from side to side to relax your whole body.

That’s it. You’ve just completed a simple and effective stomach massage for weight loss. How do you feel? Do you feel lighter, warmer, and more relaxed? Do you feel more energized and refreshed? Do you feel more connected and aware of your body?

If you do, congratulations. You’ve just done something amazing for yourself. You’ve just given yourself a natural and effortless way to lose weight and improve your health and well-being.

How Often Should You Do Stomach Massage for Weight Loss?

Stomach massage is a safe and natural way to lose weight, but it’s not a magic bullet. It’s not a substitute for a healthy diet and exercise. It’s a complement and a support for your weight loss journey. It’s a way to enhance and accelerate your results, not to replace them.

That being said, you can do stomach massage as often as you want, as long as you don’t have any medical conditions or contraindications that prevent you from doing so. Some of these include:

Pregnancy

Menstruation

Inflammation or infection of the abdomen

Hernia or abdominal surgery

Ulcers or gastritis

Kidney or gallbladder stones

Cancer or tumors

Heart disease or high blood pressure

If you have any of these conditions, or if you’re not sure if you can do stomach massage, please consult your doctor before trying it. Also, if you experience any pain, discomfort, or adverse reactions during or after the massage, please stop immediately and seek medical attention.

If you don’t have any of these conditions, and if you feel comfortable and enjoy doing stomach massage, you can do it as often as you like. Some people do it once a day, some do it twice a day, some do it once a week, some do it whenever they feel like it. There’s no right or wrong answer. It depends on your goals, your schedule, and your preferences.

However, as a general guideline, I recommend doing stomach massage at least three times a week, for about 10 minutes each time, to see and feel the benefits. You can do it more or less often, depending on your needs and desires. But don’t overdo it or underdo it. Find a balance that works for you and stick to it.

What Are the Benefits of Stomach Massage for Weight Loss?

Stomach massage is not only a great way to lose weight, but also a great way to improve your overall health and wellness. By doing stomach massage regularly, you can expect to:

Lose weight and burn fat. As we discussed earlier, stomach massage can help you break down fat stored in your body, boost your metabolism and burn more calories, and reduce your appetite and cravings. This can lead to a gradual and sustainable weight loss, especially when combined with a healthy diet and exercise. You can also reduce the appearance of cellulite and get a smoother and firmer skin

Improve your digestion and elimination. Stomach massage can help you relieve constipation, bloating, gas, and indigestion. It can also help you detoxify your body and prevent the accumulation of waste products and toxins that can cause weight gain and disease. You can also improve the absorption of nutrients and the function of your digestive organs, such as the liver, pancreas, and intestines

Reduce your stress and anxiety. Stomach massage can help you relax and calm your mind and body. It can also help you release emotional tension and

[cain-sawyer-son-of-the-saw]

I Lack Sleep, Here's Some OC Writing PART 1

Themes: Bubba Sawyer x Rosette (Cain's mother, my self-insert OC), Bubba and Rosette as parents, How Rosette met Bubba and fell in love, Cain and Anne-Marie Sawyer having adventures around the farm and involving other Sawyers

Tags/Warnings: S/O, male x female, fluff, 18+ (I'll separate the 18+ from the fluff), pregnancy, pregnancy kink, baby, babies, gore, cannibalism, stockholme syndrome, child, children, rough events (for example, abuse)

A BRIEF ABOUT MY OCs:

Rosette Sawyer, born Rosette Whitman in 1947, was born into a fairly rich, well-to-do family.

Having been kept fairly cooped up most of her life and being told what to do and what not to do in social situations by her parents really got on her nerves. She made it a point to make friends with people who were "weird" and "different" initially just to upset her family but soon realized that such people really made life more interesting.

Rosette would also frequently sneak out on road trips with her friends, against her parents' wishes. This is why she knows how to refill gas, replace oil and change a tire. Unfortunately, it is also why she knows how to wield seemingly everyday objects as weapons- she had to know how to defend herself if her friends ever temporarily had to leave her all alone.

Rosette was cursed by a Voodoo Priestess while on a trip with her friends to see an artifact museum located in New Orleans, Louisiana. For being in the wrong place at the wrong time, Rosette can now never bleed out and whatever is cut off will grow back. The only way to escape the curse is death- either by removal of or ceasing the functions of either the heart or the brain.

Rosette prefers to wear "country" themed outfits that show a lot of skin because it's often very hot down in the South. Quarter sleeves, rolled sleeves or no sleeves are for her and she does not mind showing her stomach either. She will wear pants but prefers shorts and skirts. Also, she is never without her cowgirl hat and boots.

Cain Sawyer, born some time in 1974, is the son and first born child of Rosette and Bubba Sawyer.

Cain is either very quiet or very verbal, depending on what view of him someone chooses to focus on.

Cain's mastery of the spoken English language is not very high-level. He has difficulty with matching words to the physical world around him, so if he does speak, the listener has to be very patient to hear him out correctly.

Cain much prefers to communicate via random, almost animalistic sounds and gestures, similarly to Bubba, because for the first few years of his life, Bubba had to spend the most time with him due to Drayton refusing to let Rosette officially join the family for so long.

Cain's best friend in my horror crossover AU (Texas Chainsaw x IT x Coraline) is Christopher Gray. Cain enjoys Chris' seemingly random, high-energy chaos and appreciates having someone around that can and will speak up for him.

Cain is very protective of his little sister, Anne-Marie Sawyer. He's a tall kid and he's not afraid to use that to his advantage to chase someone who has hurt her away.

Cain also loves to dress up just like his daddy but is afraid to let uncles Nubbins and Chop-Top catch him in drag so he usually waits for Anne to tell him she wants to play tea party and jumps at the chance.

Cain LOVES animals. Like, he doesn't even have the concept in his head that some of them can possibly kill him. He is a simple kid- he sees an animal, it is now his new best friend forever. Of course, this means Cain really loves chores around the farm that involve animals, too!

Cain is that kid who WOULD have been a mama's boy but since he didn't have a lot of time with his mama when he was small, he's 100% daddy's boy.

Cain's favorite comforts when he's small are climbing all over dad, grabbing handfuls of dad's hair and inhaling the smell and also sitting on his dad's shoulders. If he can't find his dad, he'll go find his mom and get her to hold him for a while. His comforts with his mom involve her either singing to him or reading him stories.

Cain is not a very good reader- he can probably only read basic baby board book words by himself- but he loves to look at picture books and have someone read them to him.

On weekends, Cain loves to get Uncle Chop-Top to turn on the radio or put on some records so they can jam out in the living room.

Cain's favorite pastime though is probably anything where he can use a hammer or a tenderizer. After an incident occurred where he learned he could throw a tenderizer hard enough to knock someone out in order to save himself and his dad from an attack, Bubba, Drayton, Nubbins and Chop-Top all realized he could be the next family butcher, just like his dad. So they started training him to use hammers/tenderizers fairly early on- Bubba and Nubbins would often try to show him better techniques and Drayton and Chop-Top would try to show him and teach him about different kinds of hammers and tenderizers and their "stats".

Cain also has knowledge of some things that most children should not. Namely: Firearms, arsony, larceny, defacement and a general understanding of terms and phrases that aren't meant for his age level. This is because Nubbins and Chop-Top make terrible babysitters and Christopher Gray, who looks 10 in human years but is actually 20 years old, has too much chaotic adult knowledge.

That said, Cain is generally well behaved and does what he's told but will fall to any one of those things if Chris eggs him on for any reason. In fact, Chris will HELP HIM light sticks of dynamite or paint the phrase "f*ck you" on the side of the barn in efforts to upset Drayton and mess up Pennywise.

Cain generally wears a semi-loose formal buttoned and collared work shirt, dark slacks, black boots and dark suspenders. He might occasionally add a tie to be like his dad.

Anne-Marie Sawyer, born in 1978, is the second child and first daughter of Rosette and Bubba Sawyer.

Anne's best friend is Christopher's twin sister, Jennifer Gray.

Rosette had recently been allowed to officially join the Sawyer household when Anne was born, so Anne never knew a day without her mom. She's 100% a mama's girl.

Anne-Marie is very much the "pampered princess" type. Lay one wrong finger on her and both her big brother and their dad will be on the scene in a heartbeat, weapons out.

Anne-Marie's style is also very "princess", as she loves to dress up a lot. Puffy sleeves and long, semi-decadent gowns, sometimes with glitter even and bows, are her favorite. If a princess dress isn't available, she's perfectly happy to settle for an old gingham gown as well. Anne will accept Mary Janes for footwear but largely prefers cowgirl boots, even with her princess dresses.

Anne loves to play "tea party" with her dolls and get dressed up and she's aware that Cain is into it too, so she will often talk him into playing with her- she will even help him get dressed up and do his makeup for him. She will also often get Bubba to join them and if he will let her, which he often does, she will do his makeup, too. In fact, Anne and Bubba will do each other's hair and makeup and if Cain wants, Bubba will fix him up, too.

Anne-Marie also loves to make things out of found objects. Especially bones. She will often sit down with Bubba or Nubbins and work on trinkets, carvings, jewelry, decor, you name it- out of bones and various body parts. Her favorite though is dolls and stuffed animals. Most of her dolls and stuffed animals were either made by her, Bubba or Nubbins or sometimes all together or in teams. Her favorite doll though was something she found already made by the side of the road- an old, discarded Raggedy Ann.

When Anne needs comfort from her parents, she's less a climber and more of a hugger. She loves to snuggle into her dad while he's holding her or into her mom's chest while being held. If parents aren't available, Cain will hold her and calm her down. Anne also likes to be sung or hummed to, which again, if parents aren't around to do it, Cain will try. She doesn't mind being read to either but really prefers stories a bit more when she's feeling better.

PART II COMING SOON

[ultracare-pro]

The Fascial Massage Gun Revolution: Transforming Pain Management and Body Recovery

Aches and pains are common. They can be caused by fatigue or physical activity, but they can also be a sign of something else. Body aches are usually mild pains or discomforts that can affect one or all of the body’s parts. These pains can be mild, severe, transient, or chronic. Localized body aches can have a more muscular sensation to them. Other times, you may feel generalized pain. There are numerous causes of body aches. A variety of minor to severe diseases, ailments, and situations can cause body aches.

One-sided bodily aches may be caused by the musculoskeletal system. If this is the case, stress, arthritis, minor injuries, and overuse ailments could be to blame. All-over aches, on the other hand, are more likely to indicate a serious condition.

Traditional remedies for pain management

Body pain is a common problem that can be caused by a variety of factors. While taking pain relievers may be a temporary solution for body discomfort, this solution has limitations, especially if you experience this pain on a regular basis. It is best to look into natural remedies to alleviate discomfort.

Soak in salt water

Salt water helps to relieve muscle pain and inflammation. Warm water is useful for relieving body discomfort caused by exercise or physical activity because it relaxes muscle tension.

Massage

Massage is unquestionably the most popular method of treating body aches and pains. Massage, when done correctly, promotes tissue relaxation, reduces stress, and may even help to reduce nerve compression, which relieves pain. Warm mustard oil massage is said to be particularly effective at relieving body discomfort due to the oil’s anti-inflammatory properties.

Warm compress

A hot compress can help to increase blood flow and reduce muscle stiffness. Although it is particularly effective for sore muscles, it should not be used if the pain was caused by an accident. Make sure the heating pad or towel is not too hot to avoid burning your skin.

Cold Treatment

An ice pack is the most effective treatment for pain and swelling caused by muscle sprains. It reduces bleeding and numbs the area.

Ginger

Ginger contains a lot of analgesic and anti-inflammatory chemicals. According to research, ginger may be just as effective as ibuprofen at relieving pain. When consumed with warm water, ginger tastes best.

ULTRAGUN – The fascial massage gun revolution

ULTRAGUN is a percussion therapy massage gun for deep pain relief.

Unique Body Sensing Technology – Activates upon touching the body surface to apply concentrated pressure deep into the muscle tissue.

Relieves knots & tension out of the muscles while improving blood flow.

The majority of people in today’s fast-paced society spend their time at work. A massager is the best option for refreshing their bodies and getting a good night’s sleep, and choosing the right massager is even more important.

On weekends, you may choose to relax your body with a massage or spa treatment. However, not everyone will be able to enjoy the same privilege on a consistent basis. You’ll need the help of a massage gun here.

A “ULTRAGUN” is a portable device that uses vibration therapy to simulate the “tapotement” technique, in which therapists move their hands quickly and rhythmically to stimulate nerve endings in the target area.

What is Percussion Therapy?

ULTRAGUN works on a percussive massage therapy treatment that applies pulses of concentrated pressure deep into the muscle tissue and works knots & tension out of the muscles while improving blood flow.

The Body Sensing Technology of ULTRAGUN makes the massage more precise and accurate for faster relief.

Benefits of ULTRAGUN

Improved blood circulation & zero fatigue

A massager increases blood flow and relieves fatigue. It increases blood flow throughout the body and relieves muscle pain. As a result, a body massager improves the way your body works. Your body can fight off any illness with proper blood flow. Increasing blood flow promotes the body’s internal oxygen circulation. It also promotes cardiovascular and muscular health.

Muscle relaxation

Massage machines relieve muscular tension, increasing mobility. They aid in the release of muscles that have been held in a particular posture for an extended period of time. As a result, a full-body massage promotes pain relief and muscular relaxation. A massager targets specific body parts and penetrates deeply into the muscles and tissues to provide immediate comfort.

Zero stress and anxiety

A massager can help to relieve stress and anxiety. The primary benefit of tools such as leg or foot massager machines is stress reduction. They can assist you in relaxing and providing your body with a general sense of stress reduction. As a result, you can concentrate on your overall well-being.

Pain relief

A body massager is the best option for pain relief. Tension and inflammation are two of the most common causes of bodily discomfort. As a result, regular at-home massages can help you keep your tissues and joints healthy for a long time. When you are in pain, your body tightens the muscles. You can alleviate the pain by using a massager.

Cutting-edge features of ULTRAGUN

Percussive Massage with Body Sensing Tech: ULTRAGUN works as a percussion massager that applies pulses of concentrated pressure deep into the muscle tissue and releases pain, muscle stiffness, and joint soreness. The Body Sensing Technology of ULTRAGUN has the ability to precision massage delivery for optimal results.

4 Massage Heads: ULTRAGUN consists of 4 easily detachable heads that make sure each pain point in the body is covered with the most appropriate contact. It has Tip Head for all body parts, Small Flat Head for joints, U-Head for vertebrae, and Ball Head for large muscles. Versatile heads of ULTRAGUN allow you to get customized treatment as per your comfort.

Cutting-edge Motor: ULTRAGUN is built with a formidable high-torque motor that delivers outstanding performance. It does not generate any noise during use and gives a maintenance-free performance.

Wireless & light Weight: Designed with intention, from conventional designs to a user-friendly approach; ULTRAGUN comes in wireless, portable, and a feather-light weight device. The compact & sleek design of ULTRAGUN gives it an edge over existing products in the market.

Rechargeable Battery: With long hours of battery life, ULTRAGUN is swift rechargeable and can be easily powered up via a USB port – allowing quick and simple access to the device’s charging so you can use it again soon.

How to use ULTRAGUN?

ULTRAGUN has scientifically calibrated & proven technology that targets every sore spot and gives instant relief. The gun is designed with 6 intensity levels, each tailored to your specific needs for the ultimate massage experience.

Choose the head according to the affected body part.

Turn ULTRAGUN on with a long press of the power button.

Point the head at the muscle and apply the pressure gradually.

In a nutshell

People are working harder than ever before, and their habits are changing at a rapid pace in today’s fast-paced world. Ignorance of a healthy lifestyle leads to muscle aches, fatigue, and wasting. As a result, Ultracare Pro has introduced several revolutionary pain-relieving solutions that are easily integrated into a person’s lifestyle and deliver results instantly. Their small size, smart design, and simple operation allow users to operate it quickly and easily.

[thatgoblin]

Chris Redfield and Leon Kennedy x Rookie Reader Headcannons

Leon

At first you were in awe of your lead. THE Leon S. Kennedy was showing you the ropes and helping train you for the job you'd dreamed of. Hero worship was common in this line of work, but you did your best to keep it to a minimum. You didn't want to embarrass yourself after all.

In place of that hero worship came this insatiable need to make Leon proud. Whether it was memorizing and nailing every written exam or physical test, you wanted to earn his praise.

You worked hard, harder than almost everyone it seemed. Leon never saw you slacking and saw how serious you were about the job. Protecting people was what you had always wanted to do with your life.

So when the grades came back that you weren't doing so hot, you were mortified. How could you let this happen? You didn't slack off, you studied everything you could get your hands on, hell you watched instructional videos on YouTube before bed! But you still weren't making a passing grade.

You thought you would be okay with the physical part, but no matter how hard you trained, no matter the extra hours you put in, you just couldn't seem to get what everyone else did. The moves were simple, why couldn't you just grasp them?

The only thing you thought you had going for you was the firing range, but even that was less than acceptable. Every time you tried to do something the pressure got to you and you messed up. You were so busy trying to make sure you didn't fail Leon that you were failing yourself.

It was when you were called into your commanding officer's office to speak about your grades that you were sure you were done. You were given two weeks that were used for break to study and practice and retest. But you'd already had nearly four months and the best you could do was subpar.

You were in your room, packing your bags because you knew you were going to be kicked out of the program when Leon showed up.

"Hey, Kid, you leaving for break?" He asked as he leaned against the door frame of your dorm.

"Uh. . . No," you said, hanging your head in shame. "I'm flunking out. Figured that it would just be easier to pack my bag now than wait later till I was officially asked to leave."

"What? How are you flunking?" Leon asked, straightening up. "I watch you every day and you're one of the hardest working cadets I've seen."

"Hard work doesn't mean much when you can't apply it correctly," you said. "I can't get the fighting technique right, the written exams are all a bust, and I can't even shoot a gun right. I don't deserve to be here."

"Have you asked for help or for someone to tutor you? That's what I'm here for, you know," he said, moving into the room to sit on the bed next to you.

You stared at the floor as you took a deep breath, feeling all the insecurities come rushing through to the surface.

"I didn't want to disappoint you," you said. "I mean, I wanted to do it all myself without help. I wanted to make you proud that you were my lead. If I was always asking for help, what good does that do? It shows that I can't do something on my own and need my hand held like some baby."

Leon sighed as he folded his hands together between his knees.

"I get it. I do. Wanting to make your leader proud and show how good you are, but we're a team here. No one is by themselves. You're only so good as your team is and if you're not doing well then that's a reflection on us," he said.

"Oh god, are you guys getting in trouble because of me?" You asked, looking at him horrified that you were possibly making things hard for your team.

"No, no, I mean. . . We're a team for a reason. You have to lean on us and trust us so when we need to, we can lean on you and trust you. If you need help studying or practicing outside of classes, I'll help you. That's why I'm here. It can be hard to ask for help in any situation cause it means you're admitting to a weakness, but that's okay. That's how we get stronger as individuals and as a team," Leon said.

You nod with a sigh. "I have two weeks to get better before I officially am asked to leave. I don't know if I can do it on my own," you said. "Can you help me?"

"Of course. I've got your back, Kid," Leon said, giving you a soft smile.

Chris

The B.S.A.A. was not for rookies, but they needed recruits so here you were. They provided training on weapons, protocol, how to work the gear, basically everything. Because they wanted everyone to be a well oiled machine out in the field, they made sure if you couldn't cut it that you didn't make it out of training. It was life and death and while they needed the hands, they weren't sending people out to die.

The trainers rotated to take classes of trainees. You were lucky enough to get the legendary Chris Redfield for your class leader. He would be teaching everything and making sure that everyone was ready. You had heard of him before, knowing that he was a weathered agent and could almost do anything was daunting.

Which was probably why you tried to avoid him at all costs in one on one situations. He wasn't mean or an ass, but he was intimidating. His stature and history were more than enough to show he knew exactly what he was talking about. You didn't want to feel stupid or embarrass yourself, so you kept him at a distance as you worked almost on your own.

Sure there were classes and work that you were trained in, but just the fear of being the weak link in front of others was hindering you. All of your tests and physical training was mediocre at best. Sure there were people that weren't going to cut it obviously, but you were much closer to their end of the spectrum than the other end that was running circles around you.

It wasn't that you couldn't do it. You could, but sometimes you froze up because your hands did something your mind didn't want to do or nerves made you stutter and stumble over your words. Everyone in the class at least had a background in the military or the police force or FBI or CIA or some other group that was similar to this.

You on the other hand did not. You came from a more technical background rather than a physical one. While you were miles ahead on the written tests, the physical ones were going to kill your career.

So when the notice went out that you were on the chopping block to be let go unless you could prove you were capable of being in the field, you weren't surprised.

Half of you wanted to keep trying, but the other half was telling you to pack up and go. You weren't unique or special, so why bother to continue to try?

It was when you were were working with one of the large guns by the shooting range, that Chris approached you. Before then, you two hadn't said a word to each other outside of the classes or even directly to each other.

So when his large frame took a seat across from you, folding his hands on the table after setting a file next to him, watching you with the gun, you weren't sure what to think.

"Hi," you said, freezing as you looked from the gun to him.

"Y/N, right?" He asked. You nodded as you set the pieces of gun on the table. "Why are you here?"

Oh Jesus, no. Why now? Why here?

"Uh," you said, blinking rapidly as your brain tried to come up with an answer. "Because I wanna help people."

"That's usually the answer I get," he said, sitting back to let his hands drop into his lap. "That or 'to kill bio weapons.' That's also a popular one."

"Yeah?" You said, unsure of what he was getting at.

"But I don't think it's why you're here," Chris said. "Because I think you don't know why you're here." Opening the file, you could see it was all information about you. Your background, schooling, family, credit score, even online usernames. They had everything. "When I was looking through the potential trainee's info, you struck me as odd. It's not exactly an every day thing that we get people who are more tech inclined rather than have a police or military background, but it happens. Usually they wash out though and end up in our research department."

"But I don't want to be in the research department," you said, frowning. Was he going to push you over to that section of the organization? You didn't want to be there though, otherwise you would have applied there.

"Every time I talk to someone and they have the chance to go to research after speaking to them about it, they take it," Chris said. "They figured out they can't cut doing the ground work so they move to a different field, but not you. I see you everyday in training, working your ass off to keep up with everyone and you almost make it. Not quite, but almost. Almost isn't going to cut it out on a mission."

"I know, I just. . . I'm working on it," you said, trying not to sound hateful or rude as your hands started to move on autopilot, putting your gun back together. "I'm really trying and I just can't get over this stupid hump that's holding me back."

"What's that? What's holding you back?" Chris asked.

"Me. I'm holding myself back," you said with a sigh. "I second guess everything because everyone around me has the experience that I don't, but I know I can do it. I just choke when it's time to act."

"I know you have some experience that they don't," Chris said. You nodded, understanding what he was talking about.

"I was a kid when it happened, I could barely call it working experience," you said, pushing the empty magazine into the gun.

"It was for Sherry Birkin," Chris said. "Raccoon City for a 9 year old isn't something to sniff at. From what the reports said, you were by yourself for three days before you made it out."

"Yeah," you said, nodding as you moved to the handgun next, disassembling it easily. "Hid in my apartment till I saw military trucks driving by then ran out."

"You lost your whole family to what we're training you to fight," Chris said, keeping his eyes on your hands as your fingers moved without faltering as you put the gun back together. "You were a kid when that happened. I say it still counts for experience that no one else really has. You know what you're doing with the infected and you know what it's like in the aftermath. We need people who know what it's like so that we can stop it from happening again."

"So what do you propose?" You asked, looking up as you finished putting the handgun back together. "After school training? Tutoring? Or do you want me to be counselor for survivors or shove me off to R and D?"

Chris chuckled as he closed the folder to look up at your face.

"I'm not gonna cut you," he said. "You know what you're doing and you're right. You're hang up is yourself. I'm gonna work with you to get over it. It's probably one the easiest things to work through really."

"You mean I can stay?" You asked, relaxing back into the chair, not even realizing you had grown so tense.

"Yeah. I just watched you take those weapons apart and put them back together in record time without even pausing," he said, pointing to the guns in front of you. "I want to work with you, Y/N. This isn't going to be an easy fight, but I really believe you have what it takes to be a good B.S.A.A. agent."

"Thank you, Sir," you said, smiling softly. "I appreciate that."

"You're welcome. We'll start some one on one combat training tomorrow before class. You're going to be working double what the others are, but it'll be for the best in the long run," he said.

"Whatever it takes, I'll do what I need to," you said.

"Glad to here it. Now, while we're here in the shooting range, let's test your aim."

[ughdontbeboring]

Unknown

August Walker x YN (PoC in mind, can be read by anyone tho)

warnings: mention of death, comatose state, angst, not sure what else to tag

I did not have a follow up in mind to Highway to Heaven but when @kebabgirl67 mentioned a follow up my mind started to run so I appreciate th encouragement! I hope you don’t mind that I tagged you and that you enjoy the follow up! you inspired it

Anything bold and italics or lyrics from a song.

Beep

Beep

Beep

Beep

August vision was black and his body stiffened from the sound, the soft beeping sounded louder then it was in the silent room. There was a soft hiss and pumping sound not far from him.

He opened his eyes and they searched the crisp white room, the large window off to the right allowing the raising sun in. He stretched his long heavy body. His eyes settling on his current position, he knows better then to fall asleep in this chair sitting up. He could already feel the tension in his neck. He rolled his neck and shoulders as he turned to his left.

He always had this moment when he woke up that that day was just a horrible nightmare but it wasn’t. It was far from a nightmare and the proof laid next to him in the hospital bed, in the multiple tubes connected to her motionless body.

His breath hitched. He would never get used to her laying there, being so motionless, lifeless. She was definitely still alive, the beeping machine giving away her steady heartbeat but there wasn’t no warmth to her face, no smile, no laughter. August hadn’t seen her beautiful eyes in what felt like forever.

August doesn’t think he’s even been breathing properly since he woke up in his own hospital bed a day after the accident, he hasn’t smiled and hardly gotten any sleep. The bull of a man was consumed with agony and furry when he woke up. Doctors and security unable to restrain him even in his weakened state. They finally got the man, halfway down the hallway to YN’s room when a doctor was able to slip a needle into August’s arm, injecting him with a sedative to sedate him. His hand shot out quickly to pull at the needle but it was too late within moments he felt the heaviness, his own body betraying him.

August hand gripped hers as his eyes danced over her frame, settling on her face. His lips teased a smirk at the thought she would be very pleased to know her braids had been maintained. After the first week August had taken to oiling her scalp and soon after found someone willing to braid it. When she woke up the last thing August wanted her to do was worry about anything.

The door to the private suite opens and in walked her nurses and specialists. If August remember correctly it included neurologists, respiratory physicians, intensive care specialists & rehabilitation medical specialists. The team gave August warm smiles.

Fuck.

How could August forget today was her review day. Maybe because they usually meet in a office. He sighed as he stood up, standing next to her, his hand coming softly down on top of her head. He dreaded these moments fearing the worst. The news has always been hopeful and August could only pray it would improve with today’s review.

“Mr. Walker” the head neurologist spoke, giving him a firm shake.

“Doctor”

“Mr. Walker we wanted to personally all be here to disgust and make sure you fully understand your options and the authority her family still holds”

August sharp deadly eyes caught his.

“Her family?” He scoffed. Her family were great people and they loved her fiercely like her love for them but August wouldn’t allow them to make any decisions, he didn’t care it was selfish. “My options are to leave her be and continue treatments”

“Mr. Walker-“

“Why are you talking to me about my options? And the authority her family has?” His eyes danced over the group, he didn’t want to ask but he knew he had to, “Has something changed?” He asked, a slight tremble in his deep voice unnoticeable to the group infront of him.

The tension that settled over the room sent August nerves on fire. None of the doctors meet his eyes. His body buzzed and his chest raised and fell rapidly. The longer they all stood there the less air there seemed to be in the spacious room.

One of the nurses that had been the most sincere in her care for YN stepped forward from the group, she was brave because August was sure him and everyone in this room knew he would be completely unpredictable if they said what he feared they would.

No I can’t lose her again.

“August, we strongly believe she won’t wake up” Her voice caught a little. She did care for the young woman the brooding mysterious man devoted his days and nights to. She knows she shouldn’t have but she did search her on IG, she found her page was public and filled with a life of young lively woman. Though the nurse did wonder why August never was in any of the photos, well not fully anyway, she never showed his face if he was in a photo. She did mention someone in some of her post or alluded to him. At first she guessed that it was because that’s what their generation did, a hand here, blocked face there to keep their relationship private but the more she seen and watched August she could tell though she didn’t know him personally he wasn’t the average man and that must have something to do with it.

The young nurse close to YN’s age seen a friend in YN, though the woman was in a coma, she could see a lot of shared interest from her IG page. She felt like it could be one of her friends here in such a horrible situation. She could see them being friends, being out in clubs, shopping together and girls night in. She seemed like the kind of woman people were naturally attracted to because of her authenticity to herself. So over time out of all her patients she took a special liking to the young woman. Her hope for her recovery increased by August’s devotion to her. She wanted to see the young woman awake and see a smile finally come to both their faces.

“It’s been 7 months and we haven’t seen any improvements, I’m so sorry Mr. Walker but it’s strongly advised to both you and her family to say your goodbyes”

August body was quick as lighting as he descended on the doctor. His large hands gripping the collar of his white medical coat and slightly lifting the man off the ground, he’s lucky it wasn’t his neck, August was moments from snapping it at the mear suggestion. Eight security men filled the room with tasers but the doctor lifted his hand to hault them.

“Don’t you dare-“

“Mr. Walker it’s been 8 months! And there has been no improvement!” One of the other specialists spoke loudly.

“People have stayed in comas for years and have woken up, I did my research. So-“

“Her mother asked, she doesn’t know how long she can watch her like this August” The young nurse said cutting off the doctor. “Their here to give you the courtesy of a head ups, there is a chance they will go with the decision of using Assisted Death with Dignity Act, there are ways to allow families to do it for patients in a comatose state that show no improvement”

He shoved the doctor back and pulled out his phone while turning towards her bed. He would kill anyone who laid a finger on her.

“Get out!!” His deep voice raged, the room emptied quickly as they scattered out like scared prey. The young nurse taking a last look at YN before slowly exiting.

August dialed the familiar number.

“Why?” He asked breathlessly.

“Shit. August I wanted to tell you myself, in person, we’ll be there-“

“Why!” He asked again his voice raising.

“August, I know she wouldn’t have wanted this. Life going on around her while she laying there, possibly hearing it and not being able to react and enjoy it. We don’t know anything! All the times her heart spikes could be nightmares. What kind of life it that? You know she would want you to be happy and move on with your life”

“She is my life”

“I know August, she’s mine too. She’s been my life since I found out I was pregnant all those years ago and she’s been my life ever since along with her younger siblings” she sighed and oddly enough he could tell it was a sad sigh and not a frustrated one.

“Ya know she showed me what unconditional love was August, and I have a feeling she also showed you”

August tired to hold back the sob fighting to break free from his throat. He hasn’t talked to anyone about this. Whenever anyone tried he shut it down but now talking with the one person who loves her as much as August and long before he came into her life, loved her when she fell off her bike, loved her on the nights she was sick as a child. Loved her when she was being a brat, something August was more then happy to take over. He found himself starting to crack. How could her mother even consider this?

“August, she’s had a beautiful life and you know what’s one of the best example of that?” She asked in the most soft and sincere way only a true loving mother could.

“What?” He asked in a trembling voice, everything about this shaking him to his core. He never had a relationship with his mother not a healthy or loving one at least. He always admired their relationship, she always tired to be as motherly as August would allow her, as the mother of his fiancé. It wasn’t much but she tried. August just knew he couldn’t fully allow people to get close, letting YN in his life was already the biggest risk he’s ever taking and look where it got him, got them all.

“She has so many people who if they could would trade places with her in a instant” she said and paused for a moment before she chuckled to her self “I mean hell, me and you would probably fight over who got to do it”

August let the broken chuckle slip from his lips as a rouge tear fell. She was right. YN had a large family and loving friends, the amount of flowers, cards and visitors she got weekly showed that. Many of those people would trade places with her. Her love and impact on the people around her was that strong.

“Now I don’t know about you August but I think leaving that kind of impact on the world is a beautiful thing, most likely the most beautiful”

He shook his head agreeing as if she could see him. She didn’t need him to talk, she just need him to listen to what she believed he deserved to hear.

“August, y’all love for each other I’ve never seen anything like it. Just the thought of you lit her face of with a happiness only you could give her”

Of course the only person in this world who could break him down in this moment was the woman who gave birth to the first and only person to ever get fully into his system, claw her way into his heart. His chest shook with a laugh at the ironny.

“I’m so sorry August, but as her mother I have to do what she would have wanted even if it will destroy my family and slowly kill me”

He already made up his mind long ago if he had to face this day.

“I’m sorry too”

…

August stared at her laying there. Wetness from unshed tears rimming his eyes, refusing to fall. He looked at the clock, he had an hour left.

“You sure about this August?” The young nurse asked. He knew nothing could change his mind and he was happy she was hear to help.

“Yes”

She shook her head in understanding. Her family would be devastated and they may never forgive August Walker but he was a man madly in love and that made people do crazy things.

She watched August lift the young woman’s thinning frame up easily into his arms, she unplugged the correct plugs.

It was now or never

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

Tell me I'm the fool

Tell me you've been tortured, tell me you've been beaten

What I've done to you

Even if it doesn't matter

Doesn't matter what's true

August chest tighten when he felt the limp body in his arms tense and a coughing fit start. His eyes wild as he looked down, taking in her face twisted with discomfort. Her hands grabbed onto him as she coughed uncontrollably.

“My God” The nurse said taking in the sight before her. “Put her back on the bed! We need to check her vitals!”

August pushed the gurney they were going to use to transport her body downstairs to the medical van to the side. The van was fully equipped to transfer her comatose state body to an undisclosed location. Where August could continue to provide the best care for her and where unfortunately she was out of her family’s hand. August couldn’t allow them to make that decision and if that had meant keeping her away from them then he would be the villain the underground world knew him as and do that.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her as her chest shook while she clenched at his shirt. He moved around the room by memory as he waited for the moment her eyes would open. He didn’t want to let her go so he sat on the hospital bed with her still in his arms.

He couldn’t even process his emotions. Just this morning it was confidently said she would never wake up, and then her mother making the choice to end her suffering and now here she laid curled up and holding on to him for dear life as she tried to fight through the coughing fit.

The nurse started hooking her up to different machines.

“YN it’s gonna be difficult to talk, so give me a second to hook you up and I’ll get you some water and something to soothe your throat” she nodded her head as her coughing slowed and her eyes stayed squeezed shut as she nuzzled into August’s chest. The nurse noticed and dimmed the lights as she walked to get water. It only took her a moment to return and when she did her team of medical personnel followed.

“Mr. Walker please put her down so we can properly assets her” The doctor closest to them spoke as the nurse handed August the cup of water, he ignored him as he slowly moved the cup to her lips and held it there. She took a small sip and sighed at the feeling. Her beautiful eyes slowly open and stared at him. August thought his heart would burst from the feeling of relief that consumed him. He couldn’t breathe.

“No-“

“Mr. Walker please”

“It’s ok” she took a small breaths trying to get the words out slowly, her throat was killing her, “I don’t *cough* want you to get in trouble”

Her soft voice like music to his ears. A siren, he would surly follow it to his death without thought.

His eyes took her in, she felt like he was staring into her soul and it was starting to make her squirm, it was all too much. Her eyes raking over his handsome face that stared down at her, his tears falling freely. The question crossed his mind and left his mouth before he could stop it, it’s not the first thing he was wanted to say to her.

“Why would I be in trouble Angel?”

Her eyebrows borrowed at the endearing name.

“Don’t you work here?”

Tell me that I’m unknown to you

No. Please no.

The room was deadly silent as everyone watched the interaction between the two lovers.

“No my love, I don’t” The happiness he felt slowly slipping away as fast as it came. August tried to form words but he was slowly braking.

“Then who are you?”

I’ve hurt my own damn feelings, definitely shed a tear over this. I hope you guys enjoyed it please , comment like , re-blog all that good stuff!!

Also a lot of hugs and kisses to everyone who has lightog and commented so far it means the world to me that the stuff in my little brain is getting some love! ❤️😘

there will also be a 3rd and final part!!

[forestwater87]

Chapter 15: Grand Gesture

Summary: GRAND GESTURE: He or she must be willing to put it all on the line now or risk losing the one thing they need to become whole-hearted. It’s life or death now.

CW: Smut in the last third of the chapter. Questionable quality.

Summer 2017

“Fuck!” Gwen felt her center of gravity shift as she leaned forward, overbalancing on the rickety chair she’d been using to reach the ceiling. It tipped perilously on two legs, then lost the fight with physics and sent her sprawling with a crash that shook the dozens of tiny papers taped around the room. She hit the ground with her hip and the side of her face, one of them making a disturbing crunch sound and both shooting bright white pain down her entire right side. “Shit!”

She was halfway to her feet, wondering if the crossed-eyes dizzy feeling was from lack of sleep, hitting her head, or marker fumes, when fingers closed around her upper arm and she was hauled upright. “Gwen! Goodness, are you okay?” David let go of her, his gaze roving around the room as he took a step back. “What happened in here?”

She looked around, taking a deep breath and noticing for the first time in hours the thick perfume of tacky glue and paint, as though David walking in had turned her senses back on. It was done, mostly. Well, no — it’d never really be done, but it was enough to prove her point.

She hoped.

While she was panicking, David had wandered over to the center of the room, ducking to avoid a string of origami animals dangling from the ceiling. “Is this for camp?”

“Yes — I mean, no, it’s from camp, and maybe we can reuse some of it but no, it’s . . . not really . . .” She’d planned this, during her mad crafting frenzy: how David would come home, wonder what she was doing, and she’d carefully tour him through everything — or maybe she’d let him get on with his morning routine while she added a few more things, made it just a bit closer to perfect.

But his presence had pulled her to a halt. She’d been like a shark all night, afraid to stop moving or she’d die, but now that he was here she felt drained, the giddy, terrified adrenaline that’d been keeping her going evaporating in an instant.

Though hey. At least she had a good reason to be tired, for once.

He frowned at her discarded supplies strewn carelessly around the room. “Are these from Art Camp?”

The question jolted her into action, and she stumbled forward jerkily, like the Tin Man without oil. “Yeah, but I already took it out of my paycheck, it’s fine. I’ll go shopping tomorrow for new stuff.” She wanted him to hear what she really meant, what she was trying to put together through exhausted babbling: that this was important, that it was worth sacrificing sleep and money for, that she loved him and she respected him and she wanted him to know that.

Finally, finally, he turned his attention to the walls. “Gwen, what is all this?”

“It’s you,” she blurted out, then winced and rested her forehead in her palm. “No, that’s not — it’s — some of the stuff you’ve taught me, look . . .” She took his hand, her nerves trembling at the brush of his fingers against her own, and pulled him toward the doorway. She’d made a messy semicircle around the room, right to left like a supermarket. Dropping his hand, she took a step back, steepling her fingers like she was praying and pressing them to her lips with another steadying breath.

She had one chance.

“Okay,” she began. “So . . .”

---

Gwen looked like she was on the verge of falling over, listing dangerously to the side as she led him across the room. There were feathers in her hair, and scraps of paper; she was speckled with color, marker and paint and even a smear of glitter glue on the tip of her nose, the pads of her fingers nearly black with a rainbow of ink that stained his hand as she held it. It was obvious she hadn’t slept, even more obvious that she desperately needed to.

But her eyes were bright even if the circles under them were dark, and she thrummed with an energy and animation David hadn’t seen all summer.

And he couldn’t bring himself to interrupt her, not when it finally felt like she’d returned to him.

“— song you taught me last year,” she said, and he felt a flash of guilt that he hadn’t been listening. She tapped the paper she’d stuck to the wall, the lyrics of his Camp Campbell song scrawled across it in uneven lines. “All the camp activities, remember? At least the most important ones.”

(It was really just the ones that fit best into the rhyme scheme, but he didn’t correct her as she moved on to a second piece of paper.)

“This is a list of all the facts about nature I’ve learned since I started here,” she continued, gesturing. This one was crammed so tightly with writing that he could barely read it, bullet points snaking in all directions and increasingly smaller handwriting as it moved down the page, until finally Gwen had started attaching sticky notes to the wall below and around the list. “I had to keep going back and adding things as I thought of them. I know I’m forgetting something, but I can’t —” She gestured around her head in a classic “scatterbrained” motion, chuckling weakly. “I’m kind of all over the place right now.”

Next: a bullseye, a pencil stuck point-first into the wall. “I couldn’t really shoot an arrow,” Gwen explained, “but remember that summer you taught me archery? I’m still pretty good at it — we went to a shooting range for Claire’s birthday last year and I was the only one who hit the target every time.”

Next: a messy drawing of a forest, a little stick figure kneeling next to a moss-covered rock. “That one time we got lost in the woods trying to find a good place for bug-catching, you got us out because you knew how to find north. You’d be pretty great in a zombie apocalypse.”

Next: a sheet of black construction paper poked through with holes, hastily taped to the back window so light from the lamp outside shone through in little pinpricks. He leaned closer and realized that they were in the rough shape of the constellations visible above Lake Lilac. “I didn't know much about stars and shit outside of, like, horoscope stuff — I mean, in the city you can’t even see them — but you always pointed out which constellations and planets were out during the summer and now I know them all too.”

And on, and on. Scale models of the crafts and activities they’d done at Camp Campbell, nature facts, and on one wall she’d tacked up a typewritten letter to the Director of Admissions at Queen’s University Belfast. Skimming it quickly, it looked to David like an application.

“I was trying to get into their Environmental Science program. I wrote about Sleepy Peak Peak and Lake Lilac,” she admitted, looking almost embarrassed. “I got in. And I mean, they’re not the best program out there, but they’re still in the top 300 worldwide so that’s pretty cool, I guess —”

“Belfast?” He leaned in closer, confirming that he’d read correctly. “Isn’t that in England?”

“Yeah.” She looked impressed, and he suppressed a weary smirk; yes, he did know a bit about the world outside of Camp Campbell. But she surprised him by adding, “I had to look that up, actually.” She shrugged. “Guess I should’ve just asked you, huh?

“Anyway, that was a couple years ago. I didn’t go, obviously,” she added, responding to his unspoken question. “International travel’s a bitch. I needed a scholarship, and my grades weren’t good enough. I think I only got in at all because of my letter.” She gestured at it, not quite meeting his eyes. “Which I never thanked you for. Or most of the stuff I’ve learned from you. I’ve been . . . kinda taking all that for granted. So, uh . . . thanks, David.”

He wanted to tell her she was welcome, that she didn’t need to thank him at all. That sharing these things with her had been the highlight of his life since they’d met, even if it hadn’t seemed like she cared about any of it. But there was a lump quivering dangerously in his throat and he didn’t trust himself to speak, so he just nodded.

After a second she cleared her throat awkwardly and led him over to a row of stick figures hanging from the ceiling. “Some of these are from Yoga Camp,” she said, pointing at a few of the ones contorted into uncomfortable shapes, “but also all that other stuff you do. Like smile exercises —” and yes, one of the stick figures had a big pink smiley face, “— and breathing techniques and stuff. I use those sometimes when I’m having a panic attack. They really help, even if smile exercises still make me feel like a dumbass most of the time.”

The decorations started to get more abstract as they made their way around the room, simple crafts and trivia giving way to colorful scribbles and symbols, representing things he’d said to her about her relationship with her parents, her love life. “You have really good advice, you know that? You could be the next Dear Abby or something, seriously. I think that’s still running.”

(It was; he read it every morning with his pre-breakfast tea.)

“These get worse, sorry . . . I was getting tired.” Gwen jerked her chin up at a wobbly butterfly — or was it a bird? — dangling over their heads. “I use your advice about hummingbird-ing all the time. With writing, mostly, but sometimes at work or something, too.”

He gently reached up and touched the bird’s feet, watching it spin in a lazy circle. Technically the idea had been his mother’s, a way to avoid burnout by flitting from one project to another and adding just a little bit to each, instead of devoting all energy and resources to one thing and slogging through until it was done. The whole idea was part of his ethos of being a counselor — wasn’t Camp Campbell a place to get a little taste of everything, after all? He remembered explaining it to Gwen during her first week at camp, just over five years ago.

He wouldn’t have ever imagined that she’d actually remembered.

He didn’t think she remembered any of this.

But the evidence was all around him — on the walls, hanging from the ceiling, dozens of examples, mementos of the tiny moments that meant everything to him. Immortalized, remembered, in increasingly sloppy handwriting and doodles.

In the corner was a bright red card that looked familiar. David moved over to it and laughed in recognition: it was one he’d sent her after her first or second summer at Camp Campbell, when he’d seen on Facebook that she was looking for work. He tugged it off the wall, careful not to damage the cheap cardstock, and smiled down at the deer wearing a plaid hunting cap, which he’d made out of tissue paper and markers (he’d gotten much better since then, thanks to a few years of Decoupage Camps).

‘Good luck on your job HUNT! I know you’ll slay the interview!’

“I’ve kept that for years to show my friends,” Gwen said, making him jump; he hadn’t realized she’d come up behind him, but she was close enough to nearly rest her head against his. “I felt like it really captured the kind of guy you were.”

Her breath prickled the side of his neck, and he distracted himself by opening the card — ‘oh deer, is this joke going on too long? I feel like it’s overkill!’ — noticing how worn the crease was, like she’d opened and closed it hundreds of times. “Does it?”

He felt her shake her head without having to face her, stray wisps of hair that’d escaped her ponytail tickling his cheek. “Not even close.”

Unable to resist, he looked back at her over his shoulder, and she took his arm, turning him around the rest of the way. He thought she was going to kiss him — she was close enough that he could see a smeary glue thumbprint on her cheek and what looked like half a smiley-face sticker in her hair — but she just took the card from him, setting it carefully on the couch before taking hold of both his hands. Her expression was grave, shining faint with hope, and between the craft debris and her naked earnestness, she looked incredibly young and vulnerable.

“There’s more,” she said, gesturing with her chin toward the far wall, “and I’ll let — I want you to look at it, but . . . I just had to tell you, I’ve been taking you for granted and it’s not right. I’ve been pretending I still think of you as this —” Pulling one of her hands away, she picked up the card again, her fingers shaking so the deer’s toothpick antlers clacked together, “— sweet, silly, kinda childish David, who belongs with someone sweet, and silly, and kinda childish. And I tried to be that and . . . I mean I sucked at it,” she said, breaking off with a weak laugh, dropping her eyes to their joined hands. “And it . . . kind of broke me. But I didn’t even think to ask if that was what you wanted, because I thought I knew what you needed, and that was — so, really fucked.” She looked back up at him, her eyes dancing with purple fire, her grip on his hand tightening. “And I — I don’t, you know so much that I don’t — I could fill the entire cabin with stuff I’ve learned from you, this doesn’t even scratch the surface.”

She paused, like she was waiting for him to interject, but David felt like he’d been turned to stone, paralyzed and unblinking while his brain whirled.

“But none of it matters if it doesn’t show . . . if you don’t know —” Her voice cracked, and she dropped his other hand, pressing a fist to her mouth. “— h-how amazing you are, how much you matter to this camp and to me and . . . and I didn’t know people could actually be happy 'til I met you. I mean, I guess I knew technically, but not that it was a real thing people actually were. But you figured it out. You’ve known what you wanted since you were a kid and then you got it and I’ve never done anything without second-guessing myself a million times but you just did it, and it meant making so many decisions about your life that could’ve turned out wrong but they didn’t because they were the right ones for you. And you knew it. You always have.” She swiped at her eyes with the heels of her hands, crying in earnest now. “You’re a marvel, David. I should’ve said that every fucking day. And I know it’s probably too little, too late, but I’m sorry. For not telling you and — and for everything.

“And I . . .” She swallowed hard, taking a few heaving breaths before continuing, and he knew she was trying to hold onto her composure even as tears poured down her cheeks, “I don’t know what you wanna do. With — with us, I mean. But you’re right, I haven’t been a good girlfriend to you, and if you don’t want to . . . if you want me to leave right now or after the summer ends or if you just wanna be friends or whatever , that’s fine. A-and — if you do . . . y’know . . .” Her face crumpled, her shoulders curling in on themselves. “I love you so much,” she managed, her words harder to make out through damp, hiccuping breaths. “Whatever — whatever you want — I — I — I trust you.”

Understanding pierced his chest, a small pinhole that allowed light to pour, warm and white, into his heart.

“I trust you.”

David hadn’t realized how desperately he’d needed to hear those words until that moment.

He stepped forward, plucking the card from her hand and tossing it onto the floor (he could make her another one, dozens if she wanted, hundreds) and tilting her chin up so he could kiss her. Her cheeks were wet under his palms, her mouth salty and acidic with the taste of not-quite-morning breath, and each brush of his lips against hers was broken by her pulling back to drag in a sobbing gasp, her mouth moving clumsily like she was as close to fainting from exhaustion and emotion as she looked.

It was, without question, the best kiss of his life.

He broke away to press his forehead against hers, sliding his hands from her face to cup the back of her neck and closing his eyes. “I love you too, Gwen,” he murmured, his heart fluttering at the giddily-incredulous, teary laugh she gave in response. “And I think you need to go to bed.”

She leaned back, and the bleary confusion on her face was so precious he rose up on his toes to press a soft kiss to her forehead. “Huh? But what about . . .”

“I’ve got some stuff to think about,” he said, then gestured at the crafts she hadn’t shown him yet, “and look at. And after that . . . we should talk. But it won’t be a very good talk if you fall asleep,” he added with a laugh as her eyes drifted closed.

She opened them halfway, just enough to glare at him, but the effect would’ve been more intimidating if she hadn’t been swaying slightly. “’m fine.” The adrenaline that’d been keeping her going was clearly wearing off fast, and David was a little worried she wouldn’t make it to bed, that he’d just find her unconscious on the floor of the hallway. “You didn’t sleep either,” she accused, pointing at him with a finger stained silvery with graphite.

Goodness, he loved her so much he couldn’t stand it. “I had a nap.” Not a long one, but he was used to not sleeping much. “Get some rest. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“It’s already the morning,” she complained, but like a sleepy robot she turned and shuffled back toward the front of the cabin. “I’m gonna brush my teeth and shower and stuff. So I look less like a sludge goblin.”

“You do that, Gwen.” He waited until the bathroom door had clicked shut before turning back to the mess she’d made of their living room. It was almost hard to tell the difference between what was art and what was trash left over, there was so much of both; it looked like an explosion had hit a crafts store.

Gwen wasn’t someone who put a lot of effort into things she didn’t care about. It was one of the most frustrating things about having her as a coworker, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t love how unabashedly honest she was, how he could read her feelings just by looking at her work.

There was the soft sound of tape unsticking and one of the decorations sagged, a corner curling away from the wall and drooping down. He pushed it carefully back into place and fumbled for his phone, setting it to camera mode.

This was worth remembering.

---

Gwen was positive she’d never be able to fall asleep; how could she, when things were still so up in the air? But she wasn’t twenty anymore, and after the exhaustion and emotional turmoil of the last few hours — days, weeks; hell, if she was being honest it’d been years since she’d truly felt well-rested — and despite the anxiety buzzing inside her skull she was out in moments.

Soft fingers in her hair drew her back to earth, and when she opened her eyes David came into focus, crouching next to her bed so they were at eye level. He smiled as she blinked at him, warmth and sunshine he probably didn’t even know he was emitting. “Goooood morning, Gwen!” he chirped, his voice way too loud for how close they were, and she winced. “Sorry,” he added, his voice dropping to a murmur. “Habit.”

“It’s fine,” she said, because she’d missed his morning bellow so much more than she could ever miss having non-punctured eardrums. She sat up, clumsily swiping at her face to double-check for drool or errant eye gunk. “Morning.”

“How are you feeling?” He hopped onto the bed, making her and everything else on the mattress bounce. He was being so . . . normal, like all the drama last night had been a dream.

Fuck it. They had some hard, painful conversations coming; she could enjoy a little bit of normalcy while her brain booted back up. “Good,” she replied, yawning. “I mean, tired, but I’m always tired so —” Her blood chilled, and suddenly she was wide awake.

There went normal. All because she had to remind him of what an unloveable disaster she was.

But when she looked back up he didn’t seem annoyed. He leaned against the wall, stretching his legs out so they dangled off the edge of the bed. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.” She scoffed before she could stop herself, and his gaze flicked up to hers, taking her breath away. (God, how she’d functioned for almost four years without feeling more than a flicker of attraction to this man was unfathomable.) “Really. I want to know what’s going on with you.” His hand landed on her knee, light as a bird but blazingly warm even through her blankets. “All I want is for you to let me in.”

A swell of emotion swept up from somewhere in her chest, causing her eyes to prick with tears for the thousandth time. She looked away and sniffed as discreetly as possible — which wasn’t very, she assumed, since he immediately reached over and handed her a tissue from the pack he kept stashed in his pockets. “I mean, if you want me to complain, I can do that,” she muttered, tamping down another flow of tears through willpower. “I can complain about fucking anything.”

David’s laugh made her turn back toward him, because it didn’t have a trace of sadness or pity or anything she’d expected. It was so purely, entirely delighted , more than even he could fake, and he was looking at her like she’d said something surprising and wonderful.

“You really like it,” she blurted out, unable to hide the awe in her voice. “That I’m like this. Whiny and —” she waved vaguely “— bitchy, and whatever.”

“I don’t.” He shook his head and her stomach plummeted. But as she took a breath to respond he shifted closer, gently cupping the back of her neck so he could tap his forehead against hers. “I love it, Gwen. I love everything about you.”

A laugh burbled out of her before she could stop it, and she pulled away to hide her face. “Oh my god. You bastard. You’re so cheesy.”

His fingers closed around her wrists, tugging her palms away from her face. “I love you,” he said, kissing the skin she’d covered with her hands — the tip of her nose, each cheek, her top and bottom lip, her eyebrows.

“I love you, too.” She could already tell that if he was going to keep saying that to her she’d spontaneously combust, because this was all too cute and romantic and lovely and she still didn’t fully understand how this was happening, why he didn’t hate her.

But she’d promised she wouldn’t question his decision, whatever it was. She owed him that much.

His smile faded slightly, a faint line appearing between his eyebrows. “What’re you thinking?”

“Nothing,” she lied automatically, and when that only made him sigh she added, “I said I was going to trust you,” hating the note of defensiveness in her voice, because of the two of them she didn’t have much grounds for righteous indignation.

“Then trust me with how you feel.” It should’ve sounded too much like a cliche, something she’d tease him for, but he was right and they both knew it.

She’d put him through hell by not telling him the truth, and they both knew that, too.

Gwen closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and forcing herself to relax. Things were — they seemed okay, didn’t they? Almost normal, but better, because all her ugliness was out there for him to see and he knew about it and he didn’t seem to mind. And wasn’t that something she’d never thought she’d ever actually find? “I don’t get it,” she admitted, her voice sounding small and stupid. “I keep feeling like . . . like I tricked you somehow. Like I didn’t explain well enough why you shouldn’t want me, because if you really got it you wouldn’t be here. Not because I think you’re stupid,” she added quickly, desperately, “because I don’t, really! But — but even smart people can be . . . I don’t know, manipulated?”

The confusion in her voice made her pause, sit back. Manipulated? That couldn’t be right, could it? She wasn’t trying to manipulate anyone, and she was pretty sure you couldn’t manipulate someone by accident.

Or maybe you could; she hadn’t always paid a ton of attention to her psych classes in college.

“I’m sorry,” she managed after a few deeply uncomfortable moments of silence. “I’m trying, I promise, but I understand if . . . you know. Whatever.” (She still hated saying it, especially now that it seemed like it might not happen. Breaking up with David was hard enough without having to say it.)

He put his arm around her shoulders, tugging her into his side and kissing her temple. “Thank you for telling me, Gwen.”

“You’re not mad?”

She felt him shake his head as she rested hers on his shoulder, scooting down to make up for their (lack of) height difference. “I wasn’t really mad when I came back this morning,” he said, “even before I saw everything you’d made. I had some time to cool down, and I . . . started thinking, I guess.”

Gwen wanted to look up at him, but she wanted to soak in his warmth more so she nuzzled into the curve of his neck, inhaling the smells of floral detergent and piney-woodsy cologne left over from the day before. “About what?” she asked, like there could possibly be more than one answer. Like maybe he’d been pondering the sociopolitics of Malaysia or something.

He let out a little huff of laughter, and she knew without looking that he’d glanced up at the ceiling in a slow blink (that he insisted was less rude than rolling his eyes outright, even though it was just as obvious). “You. Everything that’s happened this summer — and before it.” His shoulder shifted slightly under her cheek, a shrug aborted halfway through so she’d be comfortable. “Things started making more sense after everything we talked about tonight. Like the day we . . . well, when you told me about that gentleman you . . . almost took home.”

“He wasn’t a gentleman, he was a douchebag,” she interrupted, immediately feeling like an asshole. But David chuckled and squeezed her closer, like he enjoyed her company even when she was being annoying (which he did; somehow he actually did) and she let herself relax against his side, believe that maybe things were going to be okay after all.

“I’ve thought about the stuff you said a lot since that day. Mostly the parts that made me feel the worst.”

She flinched. “I’m so sorry —” she began, but he cut her off with a kiss to her forehead.

“I have trouble with . . . rejection,” he continued, sounding embarrassed. Like that minor character flaw even came close to the millions of ways she was fucked up. “I — I guess you could call it ���abandonment issues’? But at first, and for a while, all I could hear were the ways you didn’t . . . seem to want me around anymore.”

“But I did —”

“I know.” Another soft kiss, and she wasn’t sure if it was to reassure her or himself. “I know that now. And I think, knowing that . . . it made what you said sound different.

“You were drunk — I know, you downplayed it, and it wouldn’t have excused . . . but your judgment was still impaired. And you didn’t kiss him. Thinking back, it didn’t even sound like you really wanted to. Did you?” She shook her head, not willing to look up at him because no matter how gently he tried to frame this she still felt like it was her fault. “And I just couldn’t stop thinking, how if this had happened a few years ago you would’ve told that story so much differently. If we were still just friends, maybe. You would’ve stormed into the cabin raging about how some jerk had ‘put his mitts all over you’ —”

Gwen couldn’t help it; she burst out laughing, pushing away from him and resting her head in her hands. “That can’t be how you think I talk!”

“It was an edited version,” he admitted, flushing. His smile was wide enough to illuminate the room, catching and refracting the dreary dawn light. “Please come back?”

She snuggled into his outstretched arms, her heart panging at the plaintive note in his voice. She wrapped herself around him, legs entangled with his and arms squeezing his waist; she’d missed him just as much. “Your impression of me is really bad,” she said with an uncontrollable giggle that made her feel like she was fourteen.

“I’ll work on it.” For a moment he just held her, soaking in the relief of being together and being okay. (At least, that's what she was doing.) “Why did it bother you so much?” he asked after a minute or so. “It doesn’t . . . well, it just doesn’t sound like you did anything wrong.”

“I guess — yeah, maybe not, technically anyway. But you’d just visited and saw how terrible my life is, and I was having an even harder time being a less-shitty version of myself . . .” He made a soft noise, almost pained, and pulled her closer. “So when this asshole showed up and was, like, exactly the type of guy I usually go for, it felt like . . . I don’t know. Like the universe was telling me we didn’t belong together. That sounds stupid. Never mind.” She pressed her face against his chest with an embarrassed groan. “Pretend I said something that doesn’t make me sound like I write horoscopes for a living.”

“I like horoscopes!” he replied, because of course he did. After a moment he added, “Thank you for telling me. It . . . helps confirm some things I was thinking earlier, when I left. Because what you said, and what you’ve been saying for a long time . . . I’ve been hearing it the way that’d hurt me the most, but I think you meant it to make me hate you.” He paused for a second, then added, “Do you think I’m right?”

Gwen shrugged, feeling more than a little like one of his campers receiving an aggressively pacifist talking-to. “Yeah. I don’t . . . like myself all that much.”

“I’ve noticed.” And David pressed another kiss to the top of her head, like he was rewarding her for being honest. Or like he just couldn’t help himself. “You haven’t treated me very well lately, Gwen. And I was — am very unhappy about that. But I don’t think it holds a candle to how you treat yourself.”

She wriggled away enough to sit up and look at him, frowning. “So you’re, what? Willing to come back to a shitty relationship because you feel sorrier for me than for you?” she demanded, even though it would’ve been smarter to just not say anything and enjoy his pity while she still had it.

But again, she said she’d be honest. And the true Gwen was kind of a bitch.

His smile turned sad, and he carefully tucked a flyaway hair behind her ear. “See, that’s what I mean. You never give yourself the benefit of the doubt.” When she frowned, not understanding, he took her hand and began playing with it, wiggling her fingers and twining them with his. “I understand better, now. How you’re feeling and what you’re thinking. And I’m not going to let you treat me like I’m a kid, or — or stupid, or whatever. I know you don’t really think that,” he added as she opened her mouth to argue. “There’s a whole cabin’s worth of proof in the living room that you don’t really think that. That’s why I wanna try again. Miscommunications, misunderstandings . . . those are fixable. And now that I know what’s been going through your head, I don’t think you’ve done anything I can’t forgive.”

Her eyes filled with tears — again, and she was going to die of dehydration if she didn’t get ahold of herself — but this time she couldn’t resent them too much, not when it felt like she was brimming over with hope that was eager to burst free. “What’re you saying, David?”

He shifted back, turning so he was sitting cross-legged facing her, and took both her hands in his. “I keep . . . trying to find a way to say it,” he admitted, looking down at their twined fingers and flushing pink, “because ‘do you want to be my girlfriend again?’ is maybe too middle-school, but ‘dating’ sounds too casual, and —”

Gwen pulled out of his grasp and closed the distance between them, straddling his lap and taking his chin in one hand. His face lifted toward her before his eyes did, darting from her chest to over her shoulder before finally meeting her gaze. She wound her free arm around his shoulders, sliding her fingers into the short, soft hair at the nape of his neck. With the hand cupping his jaw she gently swiped her thumb across his lower lip, slightly chapped but still warm and softer than it looked, each breath skating across her skin feather-light and making her skin prickle. “Yeah,” she said, closing her eyes and pressing her forehead to his, holding back a laugh — or maybe a sob, she wasn’t quite sure; the emotions roiling inside her were too much to separate between happy and sad. “Whatever you’re asking, yes, I want it.”

She felt his smile spread under her thumb before he brushed her hand away, tilting his head so he could kiss her. “Good,” he murmured with a breathless chuckle, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer. “I mean, I was pretty sure you’d say that, but still — that’s a relief.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You idiot.” Her blood turned to ice, and she pulled away from him, stricken. For fuck’s sake, couldn’t she be anything but herself for five minutes? “I didn’t mean — !”

David smiled, far more fondly than she deserved. “I know, Gwen.”

Groaning, she buried her face in his shoulder. “I’m trying, really I am.”

“Don’t.” He put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her back until she was upright, looking down at him again. “Please don’t try so hard to be what you think I want. Just be you.”

“Right.” She forced her shoulders to relax, tilting her head back and rolling her neck until it cracked. “I’m . . . gonna have a hard time with that. ‘Just me’ is kind of the worst.”

“I know you think that,” he said, pressing his half-open mouth to the hollow of her collarbone and making her shiver. “And I’ll keep reminding you until you don’t think it anymore.”

She managed a weak chuckle, leaning into his lips as he moved up her neck. “Good luck with that.”

His answering laugh rolled over her skin, warm and teasing. “Haven’t you heard, Gwen? I like projects.”

Jesus. Grabbing a fistful of his hair, she tugged him upright, taking a moment to appreciate his gasp that wasn’t just surprise. “I love you,” she said, loosening her grip and kissing his forehead, petting away the furrows her fingers left in his fluffy red hair.

His expression softened. “I love —” he began, and Gwen tightened her hold on his hair and pulled back, just so she could watch his eyes flutter shut and his breath catch, “— y-you too.”

Dragging her palm down the side of his neck, she settled her thumb on his throat, feeling his pulse flutter rapidly, and bent to kiss him again. She hadn’t necessarily meant to turn it into anything, just wanted to feel his lips against hers, but her fingers tightened involuntarily in his hair and he moaned, and it was a lit match dropped down her throat to a stomach full of gasoline, a whoosh of heat blazing to life in the pit of her belly. “David,” she breathed, not so much because she had anything to say but because she needed to say it, to roll the sound of his name around in her mouth, let it melt like chocolate on her tongue and infuse her whole body with sweetness.

“Gwen,” he said, and she thought he was doing the same thing, saying her name just because he could, but then his hands were on her shoulders and he was pushing her away, gentle but firm. “Gwen, wait, we should — talk about this —”

“Oh, shit, yeah. Okay. Sorry.” She sat back, her face warming. But as she settled her weight more firmly in his lap he jolted; and if she’d thought she was embarrassed it was nothing to the way his already-flushed cheeks flamed pink, spreading in blotches up to his hairline and the tips of his ears, down to disappear underneath his bandana. He stammered out an apology, avoiding her eyes even as his cock twitched, like bashfulness could disguise how hard he was against her. She quickly rose back up — the last thing she wanted was to make him feel ashamed, or pressured; everything between them was as tremulous and new as the first time — but realized almost instantly when David squeaked that this just shoved her chest in his face.

She hovered there for an awkward second, the two of them staring at each other in mortified horror. Then his whole expression wavered, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth before quickly flattening into a thin line, and the break in his composure took hers out too. She snorted, and they both burst out laughing. “I’ll just sit over here,” she said through giggles, rolling off his lap and settling on the other side of the bed with her feet curled under her so they were no longer touching. He made a small sad sound like a squeeze toy deflating, and Gwen rolled her eyes and stretched out one leg until her foot brushed his knee. “Here, hold my foot if you’re that lonely. It’s practically holding hands.”

His eyes widened, hands closing around her ankle and setting it on his thigh with something like reverence. “Thank you,” he murmured, gently tracing the outline of her foot with his fingertips. “That was very sweet, you know.”

God, she was blushing, wasn’t she? She had to be. “Yeah,” she agreed, trying to ignore the ticklish feeling as he kept playing with her foot like it was a toy doll. “Felt weird, too. I kinda wanted to insult you or something, just to balance it out.”

He smiled, wiggling her big toe like he was playing that little piggies game she used to do with her nieces when they were babies. “That’s my Gwen.” And he sounded pleased, almost proud, like she’d done something wonderful.

But that was David; even though sometimes he was completely oblivious, sometimes he noticed and appreciated the tiniest, most inconsequential things. That’s my David, she thought, her heart swelling like it was going to burst. “You wanted to talk about something?” she reminded him, waggling her toes to get his attention.

“Oh! Right.” He gently took her foot and set it on the bed next to him, grabbing a pillow and hugging it to his chest. “Sorry, I was getting distracted, and that was the whole point of you moving over there.” (He said it with a pout, like she’d gone to Spain instead of just out of arms’ reach.)

“I thought the whole point of me moving over here was so you could cool down, tiger,” she teased. But when he didn’t respond except to flush darker, his gaze firmly on a fraying edge of the pillowcase in his arms, something weird and hilarious clicked in her head. “Oh my god, are you into feet?”

“No!” He lifted his head to give her a tragically betrayed expression. “Not a weird amount!”

She grinned, poking his thigh with her outstretched foot. “What’s a weird amount?” she asked.

He shrugged, not quite able to maintain the kicked-puppy look when a smile kept trying to break through. “I don’t know. Watching people in heels step on fruit. I don’t like that sort of thing, I’ll have you know,” he added defensively, and for a second Gwen was sure he’d stick his tongue out at her.

“Sure, but you’re into them enough to know those videos exist.”

“I think I’d like to go back to you being nice to me,” he muttered, and she felt a stab of panic before he gently patted her ankle and met her gaze with a slight smile. Like he knew what she was thinking.

So she shoved past her nervousness and said, “But I thought you wanted me to be myself. And as myself, I can’t believe you never told me you were a foot guy!”

“I’m a you guy. And . . . you know. All of you. You’re perfect.”

“Yeah, but the feet are a thing, huh? At least a little bit.” When he didn’t answer she laughed, shaking her head. “So do you, like, want a footjob or something?”

“I really don’t.”

“How have we been dating this long and I didn’t know about this? What other freaky sex things are you hiding?”

“Nothing!” he said, hugging the pillow tighter. After a moment he looked away and added, “I didn’t want you to think I was weird.”

“David.” She leaned forward, waiting for him to look at her and see in her expression just how ridiculous that was. “You can’t get weirder than I am. You know that.” When the color in his face receded just a little bit, and his eyes flicked back toward her hopefully, she sighed and attempted to dredge up one of the strangest kinks in her vast library. “I’d totally fuck Drogon.”

He frowned thoughtfully. “From Game of Thrones? So would I- Iiiiiii mean, s-so would most people.”

“No, not Khal Drogo, Drogon. The dragon. Not like a humanized version, either — just full lizard.”

“Oh.” He smiled a little, almost a smirk, and Gwen felt distinctly, lovingly judged. “That does make me feel better. Thank you.”

“No problem. And tomorrow I’m gonna go into town and get a pedicure, just for you.” She wiggled her toes at him, grinning. “I’m thinking something slutty, like hot pink.”

“Gwen!” He shoved her foot away, laughing. “I was trying to have a serious conversation before you started talking about — about slutty toes and dragons!”

She cracked up too, falling over onto her side and nearly toppling off the bed. “Slutty toes,” she repeated breathlessly, and it took a few minutes to recover; every time they tried to make eye contact they burst out laughing again.

“Okay, okay.” Gwen finally sat back up, trying in vain to smooth her hair out of its mass of tangled bedhead. “I’m sorry, you were trying to say something serious. What’s up?”

“Right.” He took a deep breath, fingers knotting in her blankets until his knuckles were white. “It’s just . . . it was starting to seem like we were going to — um, you know. Be intimate.”

She resisted the urge to tease him for his word choice. “I was open to it, yeah.”

“M-me too! That’s why . . . well. Okay.” He took a deep breath, dragging his hands down his face, and Gwen noticed for the first time how tired he looked.

“Hey, we don’t have to do anything,” she said, shifting closer so she could put her hand on his shoulder. “You know that, right?”

He nodded, patting her hand before brushing it away so she didn’t feel rejected, and once again she felt a rush of love so intense it almost brought tears to her eyes. He could be so simply, effortlessly kind, without even thinking about it. “I do. At least, I think I do. I- I mean, I know I do, but it’s hard to . . .” He waved his hand around his head like his thoughts were scattering birds.

“The night before we . . . well. Ended things.” He flinched at his own words, and she felt the same pain flicker over the surface of her heart.

It’s okay, she reminded herself, wishing she could sweep him up in her arms and block out all the bad memories she’d put there. It still hurts, but we’re going to be okay.

Like he’d been thinking the same thing, David stretched out his hand to find hers, squeezing her fingers. “I said I didn’t want to,” he continued in a rush, “you know. Be together like that. And you . . . seemed to get mad — at me. And then the next day you broke up with me.” He squeezed his eyes shut, taking a shuddering breath that had tears behind it, and she tightened her grip on his hand. “It’s okay,” he said, opening his eyes and giving her a slightly-watery smile. “I’m okay. But I just need to know . . .”

“God, no,” she jumped in, taking up the thread of his question as it trailed off into nothingness. “David, no, it had nothing to do with — I freaked out, but I was already — I mean, I was gonna fall apart over anything, it didn’t have to be that. You didn’t do anything wrong, I promise.” She couldn’t stand it anymore, so she pulled his hand to her lips, kissing his knuckles because she wanted to respect his need for space but she had to touch him or she was going to die.

He swallowed, watching their joined hands for a moment before looking away. “You — that really hurt me, Gwen. I just needed to tell you that.”

All the anger he’d thrown at her in the past several hours, all the pain and frustration, and it was those small, matter-of-fact words that slashed her heart in two. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

She hated apologizing — it always felt weak, or dangerous, or something. Like it was an opening for someone to hate her even more, like she was handing them a weapon to hold over her head for the rest of her life. (It was why she hated receiving them, too; she could be spiteful and vindictive as anyone, but it was uncomfortable watching someone flay themselves in front of her.)

But with David . . . it didn’t feel like she was giving him leverage when she told him she was sorry. She wasn’t scared he’d hold onto it and throw it back in her face someday. She wasn’t resentful of him, and she wasn’t worried about how he’d react.

She wasn’t anything but truly, genuinely sorry.

And he didn’t brush it aside, act like she had no reason to apologize the way she’d half-expected. Either she hadn’t been giving him enough credit, or he’d grown up while she wasn’t paying attention. Maybe a little of both. But whatever the cause, he just stroked her cheek with the backs of his knuckles and nodded, a ghost of his smile returning for a second. “It’s okay,” he said, looking at her like she was — god, like he loved her. “Hearing it helps.”

She wasn’t sure if he needed more than that, but she wasn’t going to let a single doubt linger in his mind. “Seriously, David, you can — I won’t ever be mad at you for saying no, ever. For any reason, or no reason or . . . whatever. It’s okay. It’ll always be okay.”

“I — um, I had a reason.” He spoke fast, his eyes wide like he’d surprised himself. Still, he pressed his lips together into a flat line and met her gaze, clearly nervous but just as clearly not intending to end the conversation until they’d said everything they needed to. He was so brave. “I should’ve mentioned it at the time, but I guess I was scared.”

Gwen snorted, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, I can relate to that.”

He rewarded her with a small, soft smile before continuing, “The thing is, everything had just been so gosh-darned strange between us, and it felt like you were avoiding me all the time — except when we were together like that.” He scratched the back of his neck, looking embarrassed. “It sounds silly, but I couldn’t help but worry that maybe that was . . . all you were interested in me for.”

Her stomach sank. “And then when you said no, and I freaked . . .”

David nodded, his throat moving as he swallowed again. “Yeah,” he murmured, looking away. “It — it sure felt like you only wanted me for that one thing, all of a sudden, and when you couldn’t get it . . .”

“I dumped you,” she finished, covering her mouth in horror. “Oh, David.”  

“I was a little nervous to tell you to stop.” He pulled his hands from hers so he could fidget, twisting his long fingers together. “Earlier — just now. A minute ago. So we could talk. I — I know it wasn’t fair, but I couldn’t stop thinking you might get mad at me again.”

“I wasn’t mad,” she replied, her hands shaking with how badly she wanted to hug him. (And god, what a change from their normal paradigm, that she was the one who had to hold herself back from a hug.) “I mean, I was, but never at you. I was mad at me, for screwing things up. I — you’re right, I was avoiding you, or avoiding talking to you, I guess. Because I didn’t know how to talk to you, how to act so you wouldn’t find out that I’m . . .” Her throat closed, thick and gummy with tears, and she took a deep breath and swallowed them back. “Rotten,” she finished, which was a stupid, melodramatic word but it felt right; it described the way she still felt despite everything, squishy and overripe and putrid. “It was getting harder to hide, once we were together all the time. And when we were fucking —” She couldn’t tiptoe around the words like David, not when she could just say it and watch him flush red. Even her rotted heart skipped a beat whenever he smiled. “It felt like I didn’t have to try so hard. I couldn’t be amazing, but I could make you feel amazing. And if I could do that . . .” She sniffed, looking away and wiping her face clean. “I thought I was letting you know how much you mean to me,” she admitted, the realization coming right on the heels of the words. “I mean, obviously I wasn’t — add that to the list of things I suck at — but when you didn’t want to have sex, it . . . I took it really hard.”

Her face was turned away, so his hand on her shoulder made her jump. “It felt like I was rejecting the only thing you had to offer,” he guessed, his voice soft and sad but no longer on the verge of tears. “Gwen . . .”

“It’s fine,” she said, shaking her head like she could rattle her self-pity out of her head. “That was just me being stupid, I know that. More importantly — seriously.” She looked back at him, at his beautiful open face, at the way he was watching her like she could possibly have something to say that mattered. “It’s never been about sex with you, David,” she said. Felt the encroaching tears yet again and decided to ignore them. If they came, they came; they weren’t going to stop her, because it was the most essential thing in the world that he knew, that he believed her. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, the sex is really good —” He chuckled, blushing exactly the way she’d hoped he would, and it gave her a little glowing spark of strength, “— but it doesn’t even come close to being what I love most about you. None of that stuff —” She gestured toward her bedroom door, and the mess of crafts cluttering their common room. “— comes close. It’s — everything, a billion other things I don’t know how to explain or describe or show you but I love you, so much, more than I’ve ever loved anyone and it scares me, and — I’m rambling. Sorry.” She shrank back, feeling like an idiot again. “I just wanted you to know that. It . . . we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, ever, and I’ll never be mad at you, or disappointed, or anything like that.”

“Thank you, Gwen.” He was quiet for a minute, and she felt the tension ratcheting up in her shoulders with each long, spiraling second. Part of her wanted to snap at him to just say something, finish the damn thought before he gave her a heart attack, but that was her anxiety and regret talking, and she never wanted to take her own issues out on him ever again.

(She probably would, considering what a mess she was. But she sure as hell wasn’t going to do it on purpose.)

“You’re right, though.” David’s voice was a surprise, as was the soft laugh accompanying his words. He was sitting with his head tilted back against the wall, looking up at the ceiling like he could see through it to the fading stars and brightening sky. His gaze dropped to meet hers, and he immediately looked down and away, biting his lip to try and hide a smile. “We are pretty darn great together.”

A massive weight dropped from Gwen’s chest, rolling away like a stone. “Yeah,” she agreed. Then, to test the waters: “I taught you well.”

It worked; he turned back toward her, his shyness replaced with half-serious indignation. “I like to think some of it was natural talent!”

“Ehh,” she teased, holding her hand out flat and seesawing it back and forth in a “so-so” motion. “Pretty sure enthusiasm was doing most of the heavy lifting in the beginning there.”

He crossed his arms over his chest with a disbelieving scoff. “Well, I never!”

She pressed her lips together to keep from giggling. What a dork. “Y’know, I should say we were insanely good. But I dunno, for all I know you’ve totally lost it.” Shaking her head mournfully, she quickly glanced over to make sure he wasn’t actually offended.

His mouth dropped open, his eyes growing wide before narrowing. “I haven’t lost anything!” he snapped, and — oh, the playful irritation in his voice made her stomach twist. Not in the awful sick way she’d been tied up in knots earlier, but with a flush of heat that took her breath away.

Managing a smirk, she laid back on her elbows, a warm glow of satisfaction blooming in her chest as his gaze dropped to her stomach, to the narrow strip of skin where her camisole had ridden up. She waited until he dragged his eyes back up to her, dark and intense like the ocean in a storm, then grinned at him.

“Wanna bet?”

His face lit up — or, not quite. Because his smile was bright and warm as sunshine, but underneath the tenderness was a sharp competitive edge that he almost never turned on her. It was almost intimidating, but the shiver it sent down her spine had nothing to do with fear. “Always,” he replied.

Before she could respond he’d pushed himself to his knees and grabbed her just above her calves; a quick tug forward and Gwen was pulled flat on her back, dragged down the bed until her body was sprawled out beneath him. He let go of her, bracing his hands on either side of her head and bending down to capture her mouth in a kiss.

She curled one hand around the back of his neck and pulled him closer, bending her knees so he was caged between her legs and arching her back to bring as much of her skin against his as possible. He was warm, almost uncomfortably so — her furnace, her own personal sun, and she wanted nothing more than to melt into him. When he abandoned her mouth in favor of trailing long, suckling kisses down her neck she pressed her lips together, biting hard on the inside of her cheek to keep from making a sound.

“You could’ve —” A gasp, too sudden for her to swallow it back, and she felt David’s satisfied smirk against the base of her throat as he bit down again. “— given me a concussion, you asshole.”

He hummed in assent, his lips skating up to her ear and his tongue lapping at the sensitive spot just behind it. “I know,” he said mildly, “but I didn’t.”

He gently took her earlobe between his teeth, and she couldn’t help the strangled noise that was somewhere between a moan and a sigh. Grabbing his hair again, she dragged his mouth back for another kiss, enjoying the shudder that rolled down his spine and made him tremble everywhere his body was touching hers. For a few dizzying minutes she held him there, barely allowing either of them to draw breath. His mouth was blood-hot, warmer than even her fevered skin, and she didn’t know exactly where she wanted it because she wanted it everywhere — against hers, his tongue lapping at the roof of her mouth and making her shiver; around one of her nipples, his teeth catching on the pebbled skin; sucking bruises into her inner thighs, closing around her clit, dipping inside her cunt, her asshole, along the sensitive strip of skin between the two. She wanted him to kiss her places that weren’t even close to erotic but she knew would burst into flame if he so much as brushed his lips over them: the bone jutting out from her ankle, the ticklish spot inside her elbow, wherever the fuck he wanted to press the gorgeous wet heat of his mouth she wanted to let him, because from the very first kiss he’d been good, better than he’d had any right to be but time and experience had worked their magic and now his mouth could ruin her; without even trying he could reduce her to twitching, shuddering goo.

“Take this off,” she gasped, not sure if she meant her clothes or his because she was wriggling out from under him and trying to remove both at the same time, her fingers clumsy and shaking with how badly she needed to touch him without any fabric in the way. She struggled to her knees, practically yanking her camisole off and throwing it across the room before hooking her fingers in his belt loops and dragging him close enough for her to undo the buckle. “Come on —”

“So I won?” He laughed breathlessly, untucking his shirt and pulling it over his head in one fluid motion, smugness making him unfairly graceful like he was trying to show off.

“Sure, whatever,” she muttered, because who cared about some bet when he was kneeling half-naked in front of her? They’d had silly, jokey sex but that was not this, not when he was so beautiful she was having trouble looking directly at him, hair mussed and lips damp and swollen and pink blooming in blotches under the light constellations of freckles across his skin. He looked debauched, flushed and obscene even with half his clothes still on, and there wasn’t room in her brain for humor when all she could feel was clawing shaking need. She dropped onto all fours, leaning down to trace the hard outline of his cock with her tongue, and even through his shorts he was burning warm. He sucked in a sharp breath, his pulse spiking under her mouth, and Gwen couldn’t resist closing her lips around the shape of his erection, breathing in the salty-ammonia smell of precome and feeling her mouth water. “David,” she began, but there was no end to that sentence so she lifted her head slightly, bit the delicate ridge of his hipbone where it peeked out from the waist of his shorts, caught him as his hips stuttered forward. She kept him steady, one hand splayed across his lower back, as she rose to her knees without lifting her mouth from his skin: over the barely-there softness of his stomach (no werewolf six-pack here, despite his lean strength), tongue swirling among the faint red hair below his belly button, following the curve of his ribs, just barely brushing one nipple — he made a small, strung-out noise in the back of his throat, almost despairing as she moved on up to his neck — until she found his lips again, dragging him into a bruising, breathless kiss.

When she pulled away David’s smile was gone, drawn out of his mouth and leaving him panting. “Okay,” he murmured, soft and almost reverent, but before she could figure out what specifically was okay he hauled her forward like she weighed nothing, capturing her lips for a second before trailing down her throat, pausing at a sensitive place above her pulse point and biting down hard, sucking the skin between his teeth.

Pain bloomed under his mouth, rippling out into shockwaves of cold-hot pleasure, and when he bit her again she couldn’t hold back a moan. “You’re gonna — leave a mark,” she gasped, gently shoving his head away and running her fingers over the damp skin. It was already tender, and judging by David’s expression, contrite and amused and darkly heated, it was going to be a hell of a hickey. “I can’t hide this!”

“I’m sorry!” he tried, but it wasn’t close to convincing when he couldn’t hide his grin. His eyes drifted down to the mark again and he licked his lips, expression growing dazed for a moment before he snapped back up to look at her face. “I can make you a bandana, if you want. Just until it fades.”

“Fucker.” Gwen laughed, not so much because it was funny but because it was him, and she loved him more than she could possibly stand. Tired of the overheated, confining clothes she was still wearing, she shimmied out of them, tossing her pajama shorts and half-soaked underwear without bothering to see where they landed. “Come here,” she said, pressing her legs together and shivering at the wet slide of her inner thighs and labia, a thousand nerve endings sparking to glistening life. “You can make it up to me.”

She swore she could almost see his mouth water, his gaze dropping between her legs as he took a deep breath and swallowed hard. “Yes, ma’am,” he said — and they’d never tried that before, but judging by the way his cock twitched and his eyes jumped sheepishly to hers, it was something he’d thought about a lot. Filing the information away for later, she held out her hand and pulled him closer when he took it, resting her forehead against his. It took just the slightest shift in the angle of her head to kiss him again so she did it without thinking, her hand sliding between their bodies to curl loosely around the outline of his erection.

He gasped shakily against her mouth, his hands fluttering up and down her waist like he couldn’t decide where to touch her. One of them dropped to her ass, a light, almost hesitant touch, and she rewarded it with a soft groan; he made a weak noise in the back of his throat and pulled her closer, kneading her ass before slipping lower, between her legs. The heel of his hand brushed teasingly against her clit as he pressed two fingers into her, and she mimicked his pace, gliding her palm down the length of his clothed cock and relishing the way his fingers twitched against her inner walls.

He fingered her like that, slow and steady, for — she didn’t know how long. Lost track of the strokes that sent warmly buzzing tendrils up her spine, lost count of the breaths gasped raggedly between their lips, of the kisses that melted into one another until she wasn’t entirely sure where she was, she was hyper aware of the heartbeat pounding in her clit and every too-gentle drag of his hand but numb to literally everything else that wasn’t right here, wasn’t David —

“Fuck,” she breathed, pressing her forehead against his shoulder with a shuddering sigh. She turned her head and lapped at his throat, sucking his skin into her mouth and biting down hard enough to make his fingers jolt inside her, pressing against her g-spot for one delicious moment. “God, I -- please, David, just make me come, please --”

Another shiver, another twitch of his fingers that took her breath away. “Okay,” he said, his voice strangled and hoarse. He pulled out of her and sat back on his heels. “Lay down, all right?”

Yes, yes, whatever he was thinking was 100% all right with her. She almost kneed him as she scrambled into position, but her embarrassed giggle evaporated as he lowered himself onto his elbows, scooching her up the bed like she weighed nothing and settling between her legs. Alarm cut through her arousal, her mind immediately trying to calculate the last time she’d showered, let alone shaved --

His eyes flicked up to hers, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I know,” he replied before she’d even opened her mouth. “I promise, I really want to.”

Oh, god. She covered her face to muffle a squeak, flopping onto her back and looking up at the ceiling. “I’m that predictable, huh?”

David hummed thoughtfully, the sound vibrating up the inside of her thigh. “Only with some things. Other times you surprise me quite a bit.”

“Yeah?” He kissed the top of her mound, his tongue dipping into the V formed by her lips and just brushing her clit — a teasing touch, his mouth moving away even as she lifted her hips instinctively. “I’m surprising?”

“You are,” he said, the camp-counselor cheer in his voice making what he was doing feel even more obscene. He traced the line of her cunt with his mouth before gently fingering her open. “The first time you did this, for example. That surprised me quite a bit!”

“This?” She knew exactly what he meant — her stomach still dipped and swooped at the memory of kneeling on the floor of his shower, the heady rush of confidence and vulnerability she’d felt looking up at him with his cock at her lips — but she tilted her head back with a sigh and breathed, “Pretty sure I’ve never eaten you out before. Not that I wouldn’t be into that, just saying.”

He gasped and spluttered, pulling back to wipe his mouth and staring at her with wide, shocked eyes, then coughed, tapping his chest with his other hand. “Excuse —?!”

When he lowered his head to cough again and take an unsteady breath, Gwen sat up on her elbows, not sure if she should be amused, worried, or mortified. “Oh my god, please tell me you did not just choke on cunt juice!”

David gave her a disgusted look, shaking his head and clearing his throat. “There had to be another way to word that,” he said, as primly as he could while still struggling to catch his breath. “But — um, you didn’t…w-was a joke, or…?”

“I meant it,” she admitted, “but I get it if you don’t want to, don’t feel pressured either way —”

“No — I want to.” He looked startled by his own words, and immediately dropped his gaze, smoothing his palms down her thighs like he could disguise how his fingers trembled. “Sometime. If — if you do.”

Gwen let the awkward silence linger for another moment, not quite sure how to move forward. “Good. That’s…something to put on the to-do list.”

“Y-yes. Okay.” He did meet her eyes then, brightening. “See, you did it again!”

She frowned. “Did what?”

“Surprised me.” He leaned over her body to tug her into a slow, sweet kiss. When she pulled back to breathe he cupped the back of her neck, holding her close and brushing his nose against hers. “You’re an adventure every day, Gwen,” he murmured.

“Yeah, I’m a real goddamn roller coaster,” she grumbled, shifting her hips upward in a blind search for his touch. “And I’d appreciate it if you’d fucking ride me already.”

David laughed softly against her mouth before turning his attention to her jaw, throat, collarbone — a damp, shivery brush of his tongue against her skin moving down her body. “Well goodness, Gwen, now I’m confused.” She both hated and loved the smug, teasing tone he got whenever her composure cracked. “I could make love to you,” he continued, nipping the skin just below her bellybutton and making her jump, “but I thought you wanted me to do this first.”

He closed his lips around her clit and sucked gently, catching her with an arm behind her back as she arched toward the maddening wet heat of his mouth. Lowering her hips back to the bed with infuriating tenderness, he paused, resting his cheek on her inner thigh and looking up the length of her body. When she met his eyes he smiled, pausing to press a chaste kiss to her leg before returning her gaze.

“What do you want, Gwen?” And he asked it untauntingly. Seriously. Like he wanted nothing more than for her to tell him what to do, and like he’d do it without question.

His sincerity was going to be the death of her, she decided with a groan, burying her hands in her hair and shielding her face from his view with her arms. “Fuck. I don’t know. Everything.”

When it came to David, she always wanted everything.

“That’s a real swell coincidence, then!” He traced the seam where her hip and leg met, then dipped down, dragging his fingertips through the wetness smearing her thighs before swiping them up to circle her clitoris. “Because ‘everything’ is exactly what I’d like to give you.”

She barely had time to absorb the statement before his mouth was on her again, sliding the hood back with his lips before swirling his tongue beneath it and around the exposed clit. It was almost too much, too sensitive, bordering on painful and if he stopped she might actually die; she knotted her fingers in the flimsy sheets to keep from pushing his face harder against her, vaguely aware that she was mumbling nonsensical pleas, an incoherent litany of “oh god yes please fuck don’t stop” —

He didn’t. Without lifting his mouth he braced one hand under her knee and pushed it toward her chest, bending her leg and using two fingers of his other hand to enter her. It took him a second but when he found her g-spot he pressed up hard, stroking with the same rapid pace of his flicking tongue. It was more pressure than she was used to, strangely achy but pleasurably so, and it was impossible not to writhe under his touch as the need to come coiled tighter, dragged her higher, kept her suspended on the brink for a frustrating, dizzying, electrifying moment that stretched like a rubber band…

Then it snapped — a dam breaking, a wave cresting and finally letting gravity take over — and she curled forward with a sob of relief, pleasure rippling through her limbs and turning her bones to liquid, trembling through the aftershocks.

The shift from overwhelmingly perfect to just plain overwhelming was a split second. “Nngh, stop, stop —” She pawed weakly at his head, just barely smacking the edge of his fringe with her fingertips, but he lifted his mouth from her with a look of concern. “You’re fine,” she added quickly, struggling to catch her breath and shivering from the buzz of overstimulation, “s’just too much.”

David nodded, relieved, and sat back, wiping his face with the back of his arm. “Wow,” he murmured, eyes wide and awed. “Wowzers. Gwen, have you ever done that before?”

She sat up, frowning. “Come like a train? Like every time we — whoa.”

The sheets between her legs were wet. Not damp, wet like she’d spilled a glass of water (and cooling rapidly, she realized with a grimace, shifting to avoid the blotchy patch). Presumably the same wetness dripping down David’s chin.

“Oh my god.” She groaned, hiding her face in her hands like if she couldn’t see it, it would disappear. Or feel it slicking her inner thighs. “And uh, not really,” she finally muttered, a belated answer to his question. “Once or twice, but you’ve really gotta work over the g-spot to make it happ --” She glanced up just in time to catch his expression, a flash of recognition mixed with pleased sheepishness. “Which you were.” David quickly looked away, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth and flushing pink. “On purpose?”

“I -- I’d read about it, that’s all!” he said, meeting her gaze defensively. “I knew it was, well . . . a thing. That some wom- people can do. And I was -- I’ve seen -- I was curious!” Gwen tried to stifle a laugh and failed, turning it into a choking snort, and he blushed even darker. “I know I should’ve just asked, but I couldn’t figure out how to say . . .”

She waited for him to finish the sentence, but when it became clear he had no intention of doing so, she injected as much demented cheer into her voice as possible and chirped, “‘Golly gee, Gwen, could I try making you squirt sometime?’”

Her imitation of his voice was passable -- she’d spent enough years making fun of him to get good at it -- and though he turned his head away she was positive he rolled his eyes at her. “I don’t know if that counts as bad language or not.”

“Oh no. It’d be so shocking if I said one of the no-no words.”

He chuckled, trying and failing to disguise it as a sigh, and climbed out of bed, tugging the rest of his clothes off. (As he picked up his shirt and wiped his face clean, Gwen quickly bent forward and sniffed the damp spot on the mattress. A little like saline, mostly like nothing. Good to know.)

“So how often do you trawl the internet for sex tips?” she asked, grinning. “Or -- god, tell me you’re not checking out books from the library.”

“Of course not!” He looked horrified at the thought. “And . . . sometimes. More often, after we started dating. I . . .” He paused, looking like he was reconsidering the rest of that sentence, and joined her on the bed to lean back against the headboard. “The time you visited, when I -- used my mouth on you for the first time.” (And what was it about his delicate tiptoeing that made it sound so much more filthy than if he’d said it outright?) “I thought -- or, well, I hoped . . . anyway, I did a little reading. Online, obviously. Just in case.”

So that was how he’d been so goddamn good right off the fucking bat. Always prepared, her boy scout. “Well, I appreciate it,” she said, and sat up, throwing one leg over his lap and draping her arms around his shoulders. “Can I please fuck you now, Mr. Greenwood?”

He sucked in an unsteady breath, his cock twitching up against her; the tip of his head slipped between her outer folds, making them both gasp. “C-condom,” he breathed, his voice raspy and uneven, and she scrambled off his lap before she could give in to the voice in the back of her head insisting they didn’t need to stop and get anything, he was right there , if she’d angled her hips right he could’ve been inside her already --

Her fingers were shaking as she retrieved the foil packet and brought it over, letting him take it with relief. (There was no way she wouldn’t have ripped it, with the way her whole body was trembling like the room had dropped ten degrees.) She watched him roll the latex down his cock, unable to tear her eyes away from how beautifully flushed it was, precome beading at the tip and slicking the inside of the condom.

God, she needed him inside her. Immediately.

David caught her with a breathless laugh as she vaulted back up onto the bed, curling his fingers around her hips and holding her steady. “Careful,” he murmured, and she rolled her eyes, fumbling blindly between her legs to line him up. “Have I- hhha --” He cut off, squeezing his eyes shut with a sigh as the head of his cock pressed into her, “t- told you how beautiful you are?”

Gwen frowned. It was kind of hard to focus on the question when her body was fluttering and pulsing as it adjusted to the welcome intrusion. “A lot?” she guessed, sinking down the last few inches too fast and bottoming out with an electric shock of pain and pleasure. “Fuck.”

“No. Not like that.” He slid one arm between their bodies, parting her folds to see the way she stretched around him. “I -- think you’re so pretty,” he managed, gently tracing her inner labia with his fingertips. “I like your colors. And how we -- um, contrast.”

No one had ever told her that her cunt was pretty before. It was just the kind of stupid, romantic thing David would do. And he was right; his cock looked so pale against her, where she faded from shocking pink into a dark purplish-brown that lightened as it blended into her normal skin tone. There was something about it that reminded her of a sunset -- which was just the kind of stupid, romantic thing David made her think.

“You’re an idiot,” she said, pressing her forehead against his and raising up a few inches, “and I love you so much.”

“I — love you too.” Suddenly he froze, his eyes widening and his grip tightening around her waist, keeping her from moving.

“David? Everything okay?” God, he wasn’t having some kind of terrible flashback, was he? Maybe they shouldn’t be doing this.

His eyes flicked up to hers, and a wide, sunny smile spread across his face like spilled honey. “This is just like the first time.”

It took her a moment to understand what he was talking about, but then it hit her: this was like the night they’d first had sex, from the position to the location to the dizzying, giddy strangeness of it.

God, he was perfect.

“Sort of.” She pressed a hard, quick kiss to his lips before grabbing a fistful of his hair and tugging his head to the side so she could reach his neck; he whimpered and twitched twice, each pulse against her inner walls taking her breath away. “Except I know you way better now.” She punctuated the statement by licking a wide stripe up the side of his throat, then sucked a mark right beside his Adam’s apple, where it’d be safely hidden by his bandana. “All your weak points.”

“I—” He swallowed, tilting his head obediently as she trailed a line of open-mouthed kisses up to his ear, “d-don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She just hummed; that wasn’t worth dignifying with a real response, and the vibrations against his damp skin made him shiver. Instead she toyed with him: tracing the shell of his ear with her tongue, nipping at his earlobe with just a hint of teeth, exploring the delicate area around his ear and neck she knew so well, had staked her claim to a hundred times before.

David’s breathing quickened, roughened, and she had to tighten her grip on his hair to keep him from squirming. Her hips weren’t moving but his were, minute jolts she was positive he couldn’t control. “Gwen,” he gasped, “please, I -- hhit's too much, I can’t --”

“Could you come like this?” she asked, fighting to keep her own voice level. She could feel his pulse pounding in his cock and in his throat, under her lips; her clit throbbed in response, a metronome perfectly attuned to him. “Without me even moving? Or just . . .” She squeezed her internal muscles, clenching around him in a quick staccato pattern, and lapped her tongue against his neck in time.

“Nnno. Or -- yes?” His fingers tightened around her hips, a helpless spasm. “I don’t know. It’d . . . be torture.”

His voice was so low, wrecked, and Gwen’s stomach went into a dizzying, delicious free-fall. “Good,” she said before she could stop herself, think it through and reject it as sounding weird and freaky. David successfully pulled back from her, his eyes wide and blown out with arousal, and he looked so beautiful she couldn’t stop herself from blurting out, “I want to torture you sometime. Nothing you’re not okay with -- and not now, but . . .”

“Yes,” he breathed, and the word was barely out of his mouth before his hand curled around the back of her neck and he was dragging her mouth to his, a kiss made of teeth and desperation with words gasped out against her lips: “yes, god, whatever you want Gwen please I love you --” His other hand slid to cup the curve of her thigh, urge her up onto her knees so he could fuck her properly, pull her back down to set a rhythm that bordered on frantic.

She couldn’t help but laugh, even as she braced her palms against the headboard for better leverage to ride him faster, harder. “Told you,” she teased, biting his lower lip hard enough to drag a breathy whine from him. “Weak.”

That made him moan, drawn-out and broken, and he slipped one hand between their bodies; curling it into a loose fist, he splayed his index and middle fingers just enough for her clit to glide between them, adding an extra jolt of friction every time she moved her hips. Gwen gasped, clutching at his back with one hand as her second orgasm coiled tighter at the base of her spine.

She bit his shoulder because she could, because she had to, because he’d like it and because it was that or scream loud enough to wake the entire camp. “Fuck, god, David --”

He shuddered and buried his face in her hair, his breath hot with a stream of pleasured mumbles beginning and ending in her name --

Gwen didn’t know which of them came first. It didn’t matter, really, because they dragged each other over the edge. His cock was almost painfully hard, unyielding as iron as her muscles tightened and fluttered around it, and the sudden snap upward of his hips as he came nearly knocked her breathless.

She was going to be sore tomorrow. Or . . . later today. She turned her head and mouthed at David’s neck, relishing the sweet-salt taste of his sweat, and let him hold her up as they caught their breath.

“I love you too,” she whispered belatedly. David huffed a weak laugh into her hair, stroking her back with a touch that was light and ticklish. “But we’re sleeping in your room tonight. I don’t wanna deal with the wet spot.”

Yeah, she was going to be sore, and exhausted, and facing a hell of a cleanup both in her bedroom and outside of it.

David groaned and gently pushed her upright, sliding out from under her and taking her hand, like she was a camper who needed to be ushered back to bed. “Phone,” she bleated, weakly reaching for it as they walked past, and he paused to pick it up for her, and in that second she loved him even more, more than she’d ever thought possible.

Worth it.

[nissakii]

How to find Motivation in Sports Anime

The human body is a very complex structure, every organ in your body, every ligament and every nerve works to keep us healthy. And like a machine that needs to be oiled and tended to have it last for a long while, our bodies need nutrition in many ways to live a healthy and fulfilling life.

Today, we are going to talk about exercise and how we can gather the motivation to get up and work on our physical health from nothing other than sports anime.

You heard me right!

While watching anime is ironically an activity you will most likely perform while sitting or laying down, let us look together why physical activity is important, how that relates to anime and what to do after striking the match of motivation!

We hear it from everyone around us, especially people who are active themselves and even doctors.

Exercise is good for you! It’s good for your body and mind!

But why is that so?

Well firstly, like the example with the machine suggests, our body responds extremely well to exercise if it is done correctly. In this instance it is always better to start slow and look at what is best for yourself which might differ considering your age, gender or other attributes.

Rigorous and controlled movement of your body makes you sweat, which might be unpleasant at the beginning if you don’t like much exercise, but we can’t really see what’s happening on the inside. As you move more and more, your blood circulates a lot quicker through your body to deploy oxygen into your organs. If you're actually interested in an anime more on that note, here's the link to Makii's Hataraku Saibou post!

With your oxygen levels raised, you’re straying further from the possibilities of heart diseases and even heart attacks. It also helps to lower your blood sugar and insulin levels which is very beneficial for prevention of diabetes or for people who used to smoke, as it prevents withdrawal symptoms more efficiently.

It’s not just the physical aspects of your body that are being mended, but exercise is also an extremely good measure to enhance your mood and mental health. Not to say that sports will solve all of your problems in an instant, but look at it this way; while exercising your body releases chemicals such as dopamine and endorphins in your brain that not only elevate your mood but are also essential for your general well-being. You even exterminate substances that make you feel worse, which is why oten after a workout you tend to feel exhausted but a good kind of exhausted.

Another great factor to include is sleep schedule!

Often enough we are torn between wake and sleep, as we can’t really get our mind to shut off after a long day. After some tough exercise your body will automatically deplete its own energy resources, as it's naturally easier to fall asleep when you’re tired. The longer you have built up your routine of including exercise in your life, the better your sleep schedule will adjust!

If actual units of exercise aren't your style, don't worry! There's a variety of things you can try, even stretching can help a lot in regulating your physical health and is a great way to wind down as you focus on each of your muscles.

Now after all of these facts about exercise which will probably sound a bit dull, how do we incorporate anime into this?

Do you know that feeling when you watch a new anime and you just want to dive into that world to see it for yourself?

Anime often incorporates a great deal of hype element, keeping us on our toes while watching so we stick with the extremes that are being displayed no matter the genre.

It’s the same with sports anime, right?

Just as much as the shounen protagonist in a fantasy world wants to defeat the villain and save humankind, the drive behind that one athlete to defeat everyone and win his favorite tournament is just as strong! In this case, we can even relate more to the anime character in a sports anime as his world is definitely closer to our real world as well.

Especially since we’re often shown the narrative of the underdog who fights tooth and nail to become the strongest, we can look at ourselves and think “If they can do it, I can too!”.

Of course the reason for the underdog becoming so strong is the intense workload they put on themselves to see quick and amazing results.

Another great thing sports bring are the teams.

In anime those teams can become more than just friends but more than a family, and to see so many different people work together is also a huge motivator.

Our brain immediately sees what can happen after a portion of hard work and that is precisely why we are suddenly so motivated after watching an episode of our current favorite sports anime. We envision ourselves what it could be like to be part of a team, dream or goal that we would do anything for.

Constant challenges and emotional outburst are not only part of the show that is animation, but also exist in real life! People dedicate everything they have into their sport just as much as an anime character might! Or they won't! Sometimes it's all just for the sheer fun of it all, and if the stiff rulings of a team feel more confining to you, be sure that there's those happy go lucky teams everywhere in real-life as well as in anime!

The sheer rivalry between characters that have only their sport in mind is immensely empowering, and therefore a good reason to start your own journey into a new sport whichever kind you might prefer.

Now if you can’t or don’t want to grab onto your next volley- or baseball or catch the next bus to your track field or gym, there’s other ways to blend a bit of healthy exercise into your life!

Hobby teams of most sports are able to be found almost everywhere, but if you have a busy schedule and simply joining a club is too much right now, try to trick yourself into sneaking some exercise into your daily life! You might for example take the stairs instead of taking the elevator all the time, or try to do short span runs or even jumps while doing some other activity! How about leaving essential stuff like food or your water bottle scattered around your place so you'll be forced to walk around to get it?

Try to see it as your personal ‘I have to become the best hero/player/fighter montage’ if the exercises seem dull! Imagine how some of your favorite heroes in anime have done the same so far!

An easy way to motivate yourself is to get friends and family involved! I myself have a hard time getting myself to exercise regularly on my own, but as soon as another person steps in the obligation kicks in and so could your motivation!

Another way that’s a bit less social but just as effective could be to exercise while watching a show you would watch anyway. Or rewatch something old you’ve had in your mind anyways, you could even try an audio book or something else in the background to get you through your reps!

And one more thing to conclude: it is never too late.

Don’t let yourself be discouraged by people telling you that you can’t do something. Whatever the reason might be, anyone can do anything if they just set their mind to it properly and stick to their goal with discipline.

I’m the last person who would call herself the epitome of discipline, quite the contrary, but there have been people in my life who have always taught me not to give up and stay positive, so I shall give you the same wisdom!

Now let’s go out there and take matters into our own hands! Until the next teatime!

This tea is so good! Wanna share?

-Nissa

[thesouthernpansy]

your hand, my hand (to hold it)

artemy burakh/daniil dankovsky

2,556 words

(here on ao3)

Dankovsky stands at the top of the staircase in his shirtsleeves. He's changed, again, from the last time you saw him, his eyes darker and his jaw weaker, but he takes your hands in his cool, gloved palms and tuts in that same distant, put-upon way he has.

“When was the last time you cleaned your fingernails?”

Even in pitch darkness, with your eyes closed, you could find your way back to him by his scolding.

“I think I have a few crumbs under there, I was saving them for later.”

Dankovsky tsks, not without humor. “I expect you'll try to convince me it's economical. Are you hungry? I have some bread and—well, I've been told it's trout, but who can tell these days. Some kind of smoked fish. It's yours if you'll wash up. Quid pro quo.”

Are you hungry? You wonder at his formality; you've been hungry for days.

His back is to you while he digs through his doctor's bag, the blades of his shoulders, the knife of his spine. Your fingers itch with the urge to touch, to run the pad of your thumb against his angles like it could draw blood.

“The townspeople are finally rubbing off on you, huh?”

Distracted thought creases a line between Dankovsky's brows. “Ah, the local bartering custom. You'll have to more fully explain the precise mechanics of the process to me at some point.”

It's heartening and unexpected progress, from him, the admission—the interest—though you refrain from saying as much.

True to his word, he sets out a generous heel of bread and paper-wrapped package bleeding fish-smelling oil. Leans his hip against the edge of the desk, crossing his arms across his narrow chest. The fine visible bones of his wrist, the pale exposed forearm, you could close your whole fist around them with space to spare.

“Where did all this come from, anyway? The Kains?”

Dankovsky stills, a sudden subtle tenseness, his gloves drawn tight across the knuckles.

“The doctor's fund,” he says shortly.

“Ah.” Guilt seeps through to tangle with the warmer sensation rising in your chest.

Dankovsky gestures dismissively, turning away. “Don't give me that martyred expression. You come to the hospital or you don't, all that's important is that progress is being made on the vaccine.”

“The panacea,” you correct him.

“Suum cuique. Do we have a deal or don't we?”

“The healer's hands are always bloodiest,” you say, half teasing.

Dankovsky satisfies it with a long-suffering sigh. “Don't you mean muddiest? By the looks of it you've been up to your elbows looking for your steppe herbs all morning.”

Always your herbs, an arrogant dismissal as if he doesn't by now have ample first-hand experience with the effectiveness of your painkillers, at least. It frustrates him doubly, you've gathered in time, that you insist on wasting your time with flowers rather than focus on the infinitely more practical and productive collection of infected human samples that Dankovsky continues to find himself unanimously denied.

Silence settles between you with gauzy tangibility, like the pest-thick air of the infected Bridge Square, grey-green and swimming-still.

An idea comes to you. Against the growing distance you lift your grime-streaked hands, palms open, up.

“With this I give you company. The road you walk is dangerous, but you don't walk it alone. I go with you, my help and my guidance.”

“Your guidance,” says Dankovsky, mostly to himself.

“What do you give me, oynon?”

Movement at the corner of his mouth. “Food. I had thought I made that clear.”

“A thing can be more than it is, more than an object to take up space in your hand. To give and take is to connect, a feeling or intention, or...” you falter, trying to remember. “Warmth. Kindness.”

Dankovsky bites out a laugh at that, harsh and short. “Kindness? In this town?”

“Comfort,” you persist. “Joy.”

“Nothing anyone has given me in this town has brought me joy.” He stops to look at you, then, though, to truly look. “I ought to give you rest, if I thought that you would take it.”

“You'd have to have it, first, to give it away.” Both of you well aware that this is the closest to rest you're likely to get today, and even that more than either of you can really afford.

Dankovsky turns towards the window, his jawline a taut cord of tension. His profile backlit with sickly light, casting him angular, severe, the unexpected stranger in the near-dark of Rubin's rooms. Near the hollow of his throat, the shadow of dark unshaven stubble, like a bruise.

“For all that it matters. What's the actual purpose of this asinine exercise?”

“I told you—” You reach out; his hair curls damply by his ear, the pulse quickening beneath your fingertips. “It's about connection.”

Prickling, “Warmth, yes, I remember. Here—”

He takes your wrist. Then, from the little shaving kit on the windowsill, a thin wedge of soap, soft from use. Presses it into your hand.

“Take...care.”

You have held human hearts in your hands, before—hot, and with the echo of beating still in them. Maybe this is nothing like that, but it echoes all the same.

“Thank you, oynon.”

“You're welcome...emshen.” At your smirk, “What? Didn't I pronounce it correctly?”

You shake your head, laughter on your tongue. “It's the vowels. They're tricky, if you didn't grow up with the language.”

“Don't you patronize me.” He swats you away and goes, muttering the word under his breath, to collect a washbasin and pitcher from beneath the bed. They're a matched set, not poor quality but plainly in disrepair, the enamel pattern chipped and cloudy. Dankovsky sloshes the basin half-full, notices your watching.

“Concerns, Burakh?”

“No, it looks clean.”

“Of course it's clean. I saw to its collection personally. Eva has been surprisingly diligent about boiling all the water she can gets her hands on, as well, for whatever good it does.”

“Cholera dies in boiled water,” you say absently. For a brief, suspended moment in Dankovsky's place you see the frightened woman in the Flank, her flat terrified eyes, her trembling fists.

Dankovsky frowns in dim recognition. “Someone else told me that recently. I can't recall who it was.”

“Maybe it was a dream.” Quick, careful efficiency as you strip away enough of your soiled smock to bare your arms.

“I have been having the strangest dreams,” he admits, voice soft. “Ever since I arrived here. I dream about walking, mostly, out across the steppe. I'm up to my knees in water and trying to reach something on the very edge of the horizon, or perhaps it's the horizon itself? And the sky is always red, dark red like blood, and I can feel in my bones that something is missing, as though the moon might not be there if I could think to look for it.”

Frown deepening, he shakes his head as if to clear the image. “In any case, perhaps it was a dream, then. I've been experiencing a great deal of déjàvu lately.”

The basin water murkies like a pre-storm dawn, greying lather sloughed away with the days' mud and blood and sweat. Like peeling back dead skin to see something fresh and pink underneath, new nerve endings, raw and receptive. It feels wrong, somehow. Dark water, clean hands.

“How do you imagine the Town will think of you when this is all over, after you're gone?”

“I don't,” says Dankovsky, clipped. “There are far more consequential matters that call for my attention. Who has time to worry about the opinions of small minds, with so much to do?”

Sanctimonious bastard.

“I do.” Gripping the edges of the washbasin like you could snap it in two, satisfying in the imagined sound of shattering, Dankovsky's startled expression, a rush of movement across the Stillwater's floorboards.

“Well, it's different for you, obviously. Being a local.”

You step away, scrubbing wet hands across your face. “I'm glad at least someone thinks that of me.”

Anger ebbs away in the ensuing silence. Then, the staccato click of Dankovsky's polished shoes accompanied by the faint sough of cloth. A towel, threadbare and yellowed, held like a surrender. You acquiesce, and Dankovsky pointedly avoids your gaze as he dries your hands with studious care.

“If you're...unsatisfied, here, you could always come to the Capital with me, when I return. Thanatica, or whatever's left of it, could benefit from your...unique perspective.”

His right hand in your left, points of articulation lined up—palm, wrist, knuckle, rib—and a warm thrum under your skin, heady and thick, like twyre bloom.

“That's a generous offer, oynon. You're right, though, I am a local. My place is here.”

“Yes,” he says. “well. I won't try to change your mind, if you're—”

“You could stay.”

Sudden, startled offense and dazed uncomprehending, Dankovsky's expression caught halfway between a sneer and something terrified. Defensive, cornered.

“I—here? No, what would I even—? No, no, I can't.”

“If you say so. I'll probably try to change your mind. Not right now. Later, when it matters.”

Dankovsky's eyes are sharp when they meet yours, lit with keen, unmasked curiosity. The full weight of his attention pierces like a pin punched through a beetle's jeweled carapace for display. A bright spot of pain in your chest, velvet at your back.

“You won't,” he says, weight in his words so you could almost see them falling out, bitten clean.

Fondness blooms in you at the thawing unease with which he holds himself, like a man who has forgotten how to be warm coming in from the cold. Reticent in a reluctant, guarded way you recognize, of all people, from Murky.

“I'll try anyway.”

A thin, unsteady laugh, reedy and nasal, and thenhe softens, all at once, deflating slightly, like a weight borne across his shoulders has been lifted free from him.

“Just so. Dum spiro, spero.”

“I don't know what that means.”

“I think you know,” he says carefully, “enough.”

Clearly, like a memory in your mind's eyes you see yourself kissing him, again and again, harsh and then tender, then tenderer still—the copper of blood on your teeth, the hazy, cooling steppe at dusk, the terrible sweet fever smell you know so well—a rush, like wind, like falling from a height, and here, constant, the place where the parallel nets of your lives snag and tangle.

Which is to say: what follows flows with the ease of the inevitable.

Dankovsky looks up, you look down.

The two of you meet in the middle.

The kiss starts slow, chaste and unsure and so nice; a pleased, helpless little sound escapes from you before you can think to stop it, and you feel Dankovsky's lips part slightly to form some wry response. You take it as an invitation, licking into the heat of his mouth, fingers threaded in the short hair at the nape of his neck. He shudders against you and moans, hitched breath and a deep, dreamy sigh that resonates like struck steel, pools low in your gut, molten and dark. Grasping, his hands find your waist, slide upwards to reel you close and keep you there.

Against your palm, the rabbit-pace of his pulse. Yours, sheltered against it. Dankovsky kisses you in the dim, stale Stillwater, and you think, the left and right hand. You think, yes.

Understanding: you are separate things like two hairs on a bull's back are separate, his heartbeat ending where yours begins without distinction. In the shared breaths caught between you, it's easy to believe that you could choose this—one vast, drumming heartbeat, one fast, endless line, strung through you soft and whole, tying indelibly together what you've feared would be inevitably torn apart. That after loss, losing, knowing what might still be lost, you could carve a harbor in the quiet and keep it shielded because you wanted it enough.

Behind you, the clock chimes the new hour. The adrenaline pumping in your blood start to sour.

“Fuck,” says Dankovsky, teeth scraping your lip.

You swallow thickly. “Is it two already?”

“Three, I think.” Focused on a point past your shoulder, his hands still under your shirt and his eyes already terribly far away.

“Shudkher.”

“You have somewhere else need to be.”

“I—yes.”

He nods, stepping away. His warmth goes with him. Clearing his throat, righting his clothes, you watch his expression shutter closed and feel like a limb that has been too long in a cast, pallid and shriveled and weak. Regret twists its clammy thorns around your heart, but there's nothing you can apologize for, nothing that it would fix.

“I'm sorry,” you say anyway.

Dankovsky shakes his head. “What for? Unless you're responsible for this whole wretched plague I can't accept that from you. And if you are responsible I wouldn't accept it it anyway, my reaction would be the furthest thing from forgiveness. Besides, it isn't as though I don't have work of my own to do.”

He recovers your discarded smock from the floor, gives it a vigorous shake. You take it from him, and he promptly busies himself elsewhere while you redress, the conspicuous return to silence aching in your joints like the promise of rain.

Dankovsky breaks it first. “Here, can you carry this?”

A hastily-wrapped parcel of waxed canvas, secured with a pair of safety pins that recently-acquired instinct hones in on immediately—that girl by the Trammel had been looking for pins, and she'd had a fingernail coin she was willing to trade—so that full focus returns with the thing in your hands and a stiff, dour set to Dankovsky's shoulders, the pull of his mouth. Unreachable, resigned.

“What is it?”

“My side of our bargain.” Hesitant, almost amused. “You didn't think I'd try to rescind our deal just because you can't stay for tea. Tell me you'll remember to eat it before it spoils.”

“I'll do my best.” Shifting aside bundles of twyre to tuck the food into your bag, as if you won't be tearing it open again as soon as you're outside.

“See that you do. I...be careful out there, Burakh.”

“You too, oynon.”

A fluid moment, blood pulled through the chambers of a heart, singing and open like the bare vein of Mother Boddho at the base of a tree. Pregnant with the promise of movement, the exposed unspoken, a restlessness that settles, itching, into the red of your marrow.

You wonder if Dankovsky would let you kiss him goodbye.

“Did you need something else, or are you just going to stand there hulking behind me while I work?”

The skin of tension splits, relief trickling out in a thin line.

“I'm going, I'm going, no need to force me out.”

“As if I could.” The formality of irritation over unmistakable affection.

You reach out and take his hand. Dankovsky watches warily, frowning as you peel back the edge of the clean black glove, but makes no move to stop you. The bare cradle of his palm still smells faintly of leather when you curve towards it, pressing your lips against the skin.

Dankovsky's eyes don't leave you even after you release him, fingers curling closed.

“Warmth,” he says softly, “yes, I see.”

[valdemart]

A New Experiment (NSFW ValdemarxReader)

I made a nasty Valdemar fic because I’m 🎵Human Garbage🎵

It’s Valdemar so warnings for medical kink, mentions of gore (I don’t think its that intense), dead bodies, some swearing, and everything else that goes with everybody’s favorite Quaestor.

((I know hysterical paroxysm probably wasn’t actually a treatment or whatever, and time line wise it doesn’t really fit, but for the sake of this story I do not give a fuck. Do I want to romance the horrible demon doctor? Yes? Am I foolish enough to think it’s possible? Absolutely not. This is as good as it gets, fuckos, not being murdered maybe.))

To make it an entire year as a student doctor under Doctor Valdemar was previously unheard of. If the student didn’t vanish mysteriously never to be heard from again, they fled to another country and refused to talk about it. You, however, had done it and it hadn’t even been hard. As head doctor of the palace, Valdemar had no time for anything not related to science. All you had to do was focus on work while you were working and do everything they said immediately and correctly.

You had even managed to get a few compliments from them. They were not the type to hand out praise, but you had gotten ‘adequate work’ several times and even one ‘well done’.

There were a few ‘eccentricities’ to deal with, but what genius wasn’t a little bizarre? Another year or so working under them and no doubt you’d leave to become a brilliant surgeon.

After an entire year of hard work and dedication, you wouldn’t have thought that you’d undo it all with one little mistake, but isn’t that always how it happened?

The city morgue had apparently gotten a new delivery man; specifically, a tall, brown eyed delivery man with a roguishly handsome smile. You hadn’t had a lot of time for dating while attending medical school and, well, you were only human. You had to flirt with him a little bit. Despite him hauling around unclaimed corpses, he was in the mood to flirt a little too. Doctor Valdemar was engrossed in a project so you made small talk with the man while you counted the bodies and signed his delivery ledger. He told an unfunny joke and you giggled. It was harmless and didn’t interrupt your work at all. As soon as he left, you were back to work, categorizing the corpses based on possible causes of death to be examined further.

But, later, white cleaning various beakers and test tubes, your mind began to wander. You couldn’t help the big, stupid grin plastered to your face as you thought of the delivery man. He’d be by next week and maybe by then you would have the nerve to ask him to dinner. Or maybe he would ask you, wouldn’t that be something.

Valdemar called your name loudly and impatiently and you jumped. Had they said your name already without you hearing it? They did not like having to repeat themselves. In jumping, you had managed to knock two test tubes off the table. They broke with two quiet ‘tinks’ against the floor. You stared at them wide eyed for a moment before looking up. Doctor Valdemar was less than a foot away from you and frowning.

Shit…

You hadn’t ever broken anything before. The last person to break something had been an assistant and Doctor Valdemar had stepped on their hand while they were picking up the shards, driving the glass into their skin. That had made you conscientious about maintaining a firm grip on everything in the dungeon.

After a horrible, silent moment of staring, Valdemar smiled.

“Distracted today, are we? It wouldn’t have anything to do with that handsome man that was here earlier, would it?”

They weren’t yelling, but they often didn’t so there was no telling how mad Valdemar was right now.

“I’m so sorry, Doctor Valdemar. I’ll clean it up and get right back to work.”

“Leave it for now.”

This kind of thing didn’t happen to you. You were a professional, dammit. You had never gotten in trouble before and now Valdemar was going to make you eat those broken test tubes.

Valdemar turned to the only two other staff currently on and waved their hand at them.

“Leave us.”

They exchanged glances with one another and then shot you two helpless, sympathetic looks before climbing the stairs to the palace.

“Come join me at my desk for a moment, wont you?”

Your feet felt like lead as you dragged yourself to the desk in the middle of the dungeon. Valdemar sat down, but you waited for them to nod at you before you dared to take a seat. There was another endless moment of silence as they watched you over their steepled fingers.

“Was I right? We’re you thinking of that delivery boy?”

“Yes, Doctor.”

Of all the stupid things to get in trouble for.

“Seems even the good little humans lose their heads in the spring.”

This would be funny if it wasn’t so terrifying.

“Mating season and all.”

Maybe you’ll be the first student to be forgiven?

“When was the last time you had sex?”

Valdemar didn’t waste time mincing words. A forthright question like this was embarrassing but not uncommon.

“Oh, um, two years ago I believe, Doctor.”

“Hmm, I see. Do you masturbate often?”

Despite your fear, you couldn’t help your blush at that question.

“Um, not very, I don’t think, Doctor.”

“Quantify it.”

“Um, once or twice a month.”

“I see.”

This next span of silence really does go on forever. It’s almost as though Valdemar has no intention of speaking. Their unblinking gaze is too much to bear and you speak first.

“I’m so sorry, Doctor. I promise, it won’t happen again.”

“How?”

“P-Pardon?”

“How are you going to keep it from happening again?”

Well, you hadn’t expected that question. Usually, when you apologized to someone, they just accepted that you would do better.

“I, um, I’ll just-“

Valdemar stared at you while you stuttered, their passive face making it very clear that they could wait all day for an answer.

“I don’t want to disappoint you, Doctor. I’ll do better. I won’t get distracted anymore.”

“And how can you guarantee that? The human drive to mate is so primal. It’s so deeply embedded in your brain that it will almost certainly always win over logic. I don’t blame you for what you are, but I don’t trust you to be able to resolve it on your own. After all, you aren’t even a doctor yet, are you?”

Well, at least they weren’t angry. You weren’t sure what they had planned, but it wouldn’t be like that time they broke another assistant’s arm for preparing the wrong slice of a cadaver’s brain.

“I’ll do whatever you think I need to do, Doctor.”

They rose suddenly and silently, making you flinch slightly.

“I’m glad to hear you say that. It’s refreshing for someone to take responsibility instead of blubbering excuses. Although, I would expect nothing less from you.”

You watched Valdemar walk over to one of the metal exam tables and reach underneath to pull out the gynecological stirrups. A feeling of dread washed over you, but all you could think was how well you had oiled the stirrups, as they no longer squeaked when they were moved.

“It will be a simple treatment. Not invasive at all and so little blood,” Valdemar explained, steepling their fingers together again. “Now, please undress from the waist down and lie on the table.”

You didn’t move. You couldn’t. What the hell was Valdemar planning on doing to you? Cut you? Sew you up? Because you were distracted one time?! No! Please no! This couldn’t be happening! Not this!

“D-Doctor Valdemar, please, whatever you’re planning… I’m sorry! I’ll work twice as long just-“

You could try to run, but how far would you get? Valdemar was almost supernaturally graceful and quick and if they caught you, there would be Hell to pay.

Valdemar frowned but didn’t otherwise move. They were studying your face as though they were trying to read your thoughts and figure out why you weren’t obeying them.

“Are you afraid I’m going to mutilate your genitals? Really, now. Horny is one problem I can fix, but I can’t help you if you’ve gone stupid as well. If I carve you up, I lose my only capable assistant for days while you recover.”

Valdemar sounded annoyed, but there was the slightest bit of amusement in their tone. And while you desperately did not want to stall further and really anger them, the fear of the unknown medical procedure planned for you kept you frozen in place.

“Please tell me what you’re going to do.”

Your plea was raspy as you fought and failed to hold back tears, but to your great relief, Valdemar didn’t seem any more annoyed with your sniveling. It was the same impassive face they wore when a patient pleaded to save a limb from amputation. Just a minor irritation.

“Hysterical paroxysm.”

“What?!”

Then, to your great perplexity, Valdemar grinned. Not the sharped tooth grin that accompanied the arrive of more corpses for autopsy but a closed lipped grin like…they were trying to comfort you? What was happening?

“Hysteria. A most amusing theory, but further proof that the human mind is incapable of truly grasping medical science. However, in this case? This might be the cure we need. Now then,” Valdemar said, patting the exam table. “Up you go.”

What choice did you have? You could run. If that didn’t change Valdemar’s mind about cutting you up then you’d still lose your residency. You’d never be a doctor then.

And…

This was quite possibly the nicest Valdemar had ever been to anyone. They were the smartest and most capable doctor you knew. You had been chasing their approval since day one and never once had you seen them attempt any sort of bedside manner before. But now they were endeavoring it specifically for you. Squaring your trembling shoulders the best you could, you reached up and under your coat and pulled your pants and panties down with one smooth tug. You shivered as the cool air of the dungeon hit your legs and Valdemar merely watched patiently as you worked off your shoes and folded your pants.

“There’s a good girl,” Valdemar cooed as you laid down on the table. The praise had to have been meant to mock you, but as they almost gently assisted you with putting your legs in the stirrups, you weren’t sure of anything anymore. Valdemar had cracked ribs and dislocated ankles while strapping patients into restraints before. Was this really happening?

Valdemar opened a few buttons on the bottom of your lab coat and flipped each side outward, exposing you completely. The doctor never was one to waste time with a privacy blanket.

“No wonder I’m having problems with you,” they said as they ghosted a single digit down your slit, making you shiver. “Your little cunt is so engorged that there’s no blood left for your brain.”

They spoke with an almost bored air of professionalism, like they were examining a mole and not about to finger fuck you to orgasm. As horribly embarrassed as you were, prone in front of your boss like this, you risked a quick glace downwards. You only saw the crisp white dressing wrapped around the doctor’s head as they gave you a thorough visual examination, staring intently at your vulva as they softly spread and stretched you lips.  You bit back a whine. How were you supposed to work for them after this? You’d never be able to look them in the eye again.

“Now then,” the doctor said, standing to their full height. “Let’s commence treatment.”

Two long, hard fingers that felt more like a medical instrument than a part of someone’s hand entered you swiftly. The cold rubber of the glove made you gasp and your nipples hardened under you clothing.

Valdemar didn’t move like you had expected them to and instead called your name. Reluctantly and with a great deal of mortification, you met their gaze while you were being penetrated. They stared at you, unblinking, their razor blade smile finally back on their face.

“Do feel free to make noise. It will help me speed the treatment along.”

Your head fell back as they began, their cool fingers almost scrapping at your walls as their thumb made a perfunctory back and forth motion against your clitoris. It was as sterile and unerotic as something like this was possibly capable of being. But, somehow, it was doing the trick. You could feel yourself heating up against the cool air. Despite your humiliation, your boss was actually going to make you cum.

Despite? Or because of?

Valdemar was deathly silent now and, even with your eyes being snapped shut, you could feel their gaze on your face with needle like focus. Their movements didn’t change in the slightest, almost like they were using a machine.

And yet…

You were beginning to squirm and twitch under their ministrations. You balled your fists against the cold metal of the exam table and let the first of several heady moans escape you lips. You were really going to cum on your weird boss’s fingers on a table you were going to have to see every day you worked.

That thought was your undoing.

As you bit back a squeal and your back arched off the table, Valdemar continued moving their fingers until your contractions stopped and you tried to pull away from them. Then their touch was gone completely. You allowed yourself a moment to catch your breath. Despite the horribly bizarre nature of it all, it had been a good orgasm. However, the light, warm feeling fled you faster than it usually did. Most likely it was from the stirrups and exam table and lack of a soft, warm bed or the loving caress of a partner. Your high extinguished, you wanted nothing more than to get dressed, but you didn’t have the doctor’s permission. You propped yourself up enough to see Valdemar, who was now standing a few feet to your right next to a torch. Holding their fingers up to the light, they were scissoring their two fingers back and forth, studying your cervical mucus as it stretched. A hot wave of embarrassment sent you back down.

“D-Doctor? May I get dressed now?”

You looked when they didn’t answer right away and you watched with shame as they scraped your discharge off their fingers and into a vial.

“Yes. The treatment is over now.”

Your legs cramped slightly as you removed them and stood up and your toes tingled as blood finally reached them again. That discomfort was nothing compared to the aching empty that had suddenly taken over your chest. No, you hadn’t exactly had a long-term partner before and your lovers were few and far between since most people didn’t understand the long hours of a medical student, but you hadn’t been into casual encounters either. There had been cuddling and pillow talk with them and now, as you pulled your pants up in silence, you felt ashamed and used. Obviously, Valdemar wasn’t interested in romantic entanglements, that much you’d bet any amount of money on, but had this just been some weird power trip? Or an experiment? You were grateful it hadn’t involved the removal of any of your organs like most of the doctor’s experiments, but it did nothing to stop the sob that rose in your throat.

You froze. There was no way Valdemar hadn’t heard you. They had been incredibly accommodating with you this entire time, but no doubt your crying would anger them finally. Your luck had to run out eventually. You didn’t look up as they moved towards you, their heels clicking on the stone floor.

“I’m sorr-“

Your apology was cute off when their hand grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at them. Their grip wasn’t painful, but the indifference in their eyes as they studied your face knocked the wind out of you like a fist.

“I’m so sorr-“

“Oxytocin.”

“What?”

“Oxytocin. Dreadful little chemical. But it’s always so fascinating how humans are such slaves to their hormones. In the end, what are humans but machines powered by chemicals and electrical currents?”

You shivered at their voice. That odd, detached way they spoke about humans as though they themselves were not one was also so unsettling, even if you were usually able to ignore it.

What happened next, however, was the weirdest thing to happen in all your time working under the doctor. Stiffly, and with no affection, Valdemar leaned forward and pressed their lips to your forehead. They did not pucker and they made no effort to actually kiss you, but their thin, cool lips against you was probably the closest they had ever gotten to it. It was the equivalent of pressing a lizard’s face against you for a few seconds, but it stopped your tears immediately.

“That will be sufficient comfort for you, I hope?”

“Yes, Doctor,” you replied, your voice soft with incredulousness. There was no way that had actually happened. All of this was some incredibly messed up dream. Clearly, you had been working too hard and were stressed.

“Good. Now, take your lunch hour and collect yourself. Be back here on time and set up the diaphanization chemicals. Don’t make me wait.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

Unsure of how to carry yourself, you half bowed, half curtsied before turning to ascend the stairs. Hopefully an hour would be enough time to process the last ten or so minutes. It probably wouldn’t be, but at least you were being given any time at all.

Before your foot had even hit the first step, you felt those long, thin fingers wrap tightly around your hips. You froze and your breath hitched in your throat.

“One last thing before you go,” Valdemar said softly, their breath tickling your ear as they spoke. “Do be sure to let me know if you start feeling distracted again. I need to take care of my favorite subject.”

[idiot-detectives]

I’m very late on my personal deadline for this but here’s my present for @mugiwarasinger ! I was your secret santa, I hope I got a good mix of everything you enjoy! (I hope I also posted this correctly, I’ve never posted a fic on Tumblr before haha)

 @dcmksecretsanta Title: Cuffed Synopsis: KID had expected to be caught once day - just not like this. When an old foe shows up he find himself having to protect both himself and his unexpected second party from disaster.

A bright white suit jumped across the gap between buildings, his white cape flashing in the moonlight from the full moon. KID landed on the building, rolling hard. He hissed in pain as he stood up, rubbing his elbow. He cursed his luck, of all nights for his glider to get stuck closed. He was lucky he didn’t jump before deploying it, he had just oiled it too!

“Wait!!”

 KID looked back, seeing a police officer leap over the building as well. His brown coat was torn from the chase, his face scuffed as well. He recognized it as the officer assigned to crowd control for his heist today, his name was Takagi if KID recalled right. He had been chasing him for what felt like hours now, the thief was beginning to grow annoyed. 

“Dang.” KID muttered, Impressed with the officer, “He’s good.”

Takagi soon fell over wheezing, his hands placed on his knees. A concerned expression fell onto KID’s face, was he okay?

“Um… Are you good?” KID asked.

“Just… Fine!” Takagi wheezed, holding up a hand, “I’ll… get you! I swear!”

“Right… You have fun with that.” KID muttered, turning his back on the officer.

 He pulled open the door to the roof, luckily someone left it unlocked, rushing down the stairs. He soon heard footsteps following quickly behind him.

“He recovered fast…” KID muttered, checking a nearby door.

The door clicked open, but KID wasn’t fast enough.

“Kaitou KID, You’re under arrest- Woah!” Takagi tripped down the stairs, crashing headfirst into the thief. 

He felt something cold wrap around his wrist as he hit the ground. KID groaned, sitting up on the cold concrete floor. The room was dark, there weren’t even any lights from what little he could see. He lifted a hand up to his forehead to soothe his aching head, but ended up in confusion as his wrist ended heavier than he last felt it. 

“Oof!” Takagi groaned as sat up, KID felt his arm get pulled as he did so. 

KID swallowed as he lifted his arm, only to find the officer yelp in surprise as he was pulled down. A silver cuff sat on his sleeve, he followed the chain to see the other somehow managed to attach itself to the officer’s own wrist. KID sighed, this was just what he needed.

“K-Kaitou KID, I have you under arrest… You’ll be coming with-” Takagi continued with his speech as KID stood up, pulling the officer with him. 

“Sorry, I’ve got places to be-” KID mumbled, reaching into his pocket, “Ah-le?”

His fingers hit a hole at the bottom of the secret pocket, his lockpicks were gone. He patted down his other pockets, feeling no trace of the coveted lockpicks. He cursed audibly, just what exactly was he supposed to do now?

A door slamming from the bottom of the building didn’t help his anxiety either.

 “What… are you doing?” Takagi asked, curious.

 “Sorry, but that’s confidential.” KID teased with a smirk, “I’d love to tell you but I’m afraid it just isn’t in your best interests.”

 “.... Excuse me?”

“Like I said, I’ll be seeing you.” KID reached over to the front pocket of the officer’s suit jacket, startling him as the thief reached in.

 No luck finding a key, KID was quickly pushed off of Takagi as he got his bearings.

 “D-Don’t do that!” The officer stammered, “Just what were you hoping to find??”

 “Honestly, A key or something. You do have a key to get yourself out, right?”

 “Of course I do! It’s right-” Takagi pat his pocket, his face grew cold and he froze. 

“... Let me guess…” KID sighed, “It’s missing, right?”

Takagi made a few flustered noises as he searched his remaining pockets. He nodded sheepishly, much to KID’s annoyance. 

“Looks like we’re stuck together then, I’m afraid. Unless you have some sort of wire on you, Then that would be-”

KID froze. 

Footsteps started coming up the stairs, heavy at the bottom but as they reached the floor the two were on grew lighter. KID couldn’t be sure of how many there exactly were,  he pulled Takagi further into the shadows, hiding behind a pillar. 

“Hey-!”

 KID shushed the officer, “Be quiet.”

“Just what’s-”

KID put a gloved hand over Takagi’s mouth, nervously peering around the edge of the pillar. The door opened and two men stepped in, followed by one very familiar face. 

“Snake…” KID growled.

“Find him. He’s here somewhere.” Snake ordered the two men beside him. 

They nodded, both clicked on the flashlights they carried. KID pulled his head back as the light flashed over it, barely missing him. 

“Damn it… Why are they here?”

He felt a hand slapping against his own, he looked down at Takagi who was desperately attempting to pry KID’s hand from his mouth. He quickly removed it as Takagi quietly gasped for breath. The two remained silent as one of the men slowly approached their hiding spot, their breath staggered with nerves. The man approached closer and closer, KID’s heart beat in his ears. He needed to do something fast unless-!

“Sir!” Another man ran through the door, pushing it open. 

Snake turned round, aiming his gun towards the man. 

“You’d better have a good reason for this…” He growled.

The man whispered something quietly, causing Snake to curse loudly. 

“Seal the entrances! He’s getting away!” 

The men cleared the room, and as soon as they had left KID pulled Takagi out and into the stairwell. 

“Wait, Wait Wai-!” Takagi shouted, flailing as he fell into the white-garbed thief. 

“Who’s there?!” Someone shouted from above them.

“Ngh! Down, Now!” KID commanded, and continued to pull Takagi down the stairwell.

“Who are these people?!” Takagi asked as the two rushed downstairs.

“People who don’t really like me.” KID simply explained, running into the next floor down.

 He slammed open the stairwell, revealing what looked to be an abandoned office block.

 “I think that’s an understatement, What’s going on?” Takagi wheezed.

“They want to kill me, That’s what’s going on.” KID muttered, scanning the room, “Hey, Help me with this.” He pointed to a cubicle wall that looked like it was nearly about to fall apart from the bottom.

 “Huh?”

“We’re going to block the door. It’ll buy us some time to get these cuffs off and figure out a way out.” 

“R-Right.”

The two pushed the wall over with relative ease, Turns out Takagi was stronger than he appeared. With some effort, the door to the floor was securely blocked, however it wouldn’t be long before Snake found some way through it or around it. Not to mention, as far as they knew, the two were now trapped inside.

“... Now what?” Takagi whispered, looking around the dark room.

 “We set up a trick. I am a magician after all. We’ll create a miracle to get us out of here.” KID smirked.

 Takagi nodded slowly, his eyes glancing down at the floor. 

“Er, Why exactly do they want to kill you? I think I deserve at least that much if I’m going to die next to you.”

KID laughed quietly.

 “That’s the question, isn’t it? They’re also after what I’m looking for, and I’ve gotten in their way I suppose is the easy answer.” 

“Easy answer?”

KID pulled up a fallen piece of concrete, cursing quietly. “I’m not going to give you all my secrets, Keiji-san.”

“I suppose not…” Takagi glanced at the ceiling, the moonlight from the windows helped slightly in figuring out the room. 

“Now tell me, You’re rather brave for a police officer. Why’d you chase me so far? Seems like a lot of effort.” KID asked. 

“... I wanted to impress a girl.” Takagi sheepishly admitted.

 KID snorted through his nose.

 “What?! You don’t do stupid stuff to impress the people you love??” 

“Oh no, I understand more than you know. That’s why I can’t die here, and that goes for you too.” KID turned to face Takagi, “Now, Seen anything that can be used to pick a lock?”

“Unfortunately no. This place is completely abandoned…”

“TOICHI!” Snake’s voice echoed past the door, “We know you’re IN THERE!”

KID’s face dropped, a hint of fear visible in his one visible eye. 

“Your name is Toichi?” Takagi inquired.

“No. But they don’t know that.” KID muttered solemnly, “Let’s hurry, We’re almost done here.” 

“I-I see…”An uncomfortable silence hung between them as KID fiddled with something hidden behind a wall.“

I’m not telling you my real name.” KID stated.

“I wasn’t asking…”

“You wanted to though.”

“I-” Takagi frowned, “Okay, I’m curious, yes. But so is the rest of the world… You’d better be careful.” 

“I don’t need you telling me that, Keiji-san. I’m perfectly aware of that-” A loud crash cut KID off, the sound of a gunshot set both on edge. 

“Great, They’re here…” Takagi cursed, glancing at the cuff, “No more time to be picky, we HAVE to get this off now!”

“I know, I know!” The two jumped behind cover as a bullet flew past them. 

“Damn, Just a little longer…!” KID muttered, glancing around the corner. 

He recoiled as his monocle was shot off his face, a small scratch left on the side of his cheek.

 “KID!” Takagi hissed as the thief recoiled back.

 “I’m fine, That.. was too close...” The thief gasped.

 Takagi tried to get a closer look at the wound, but KID pulled his hat down further over his eyes. He could see a trickle of blood, but at least it didn’t seem like a life threatening amount.

 “... I have an idea, Keiji-san, But you’ll need to trust me.” KID muttered. 

“Huh?”

“Just follow my lead, okay? I’ll get you out safely - for the one who’s waiting for you.”Takagi frowned at KID, who smiled back with a smirk. 

“You have a girl you need to impress, do you not?” 

The officer flushed red, KID’s smirk turned into a grin at seeing Takagi in this state. 

“Fine, Let’s do this then…” He whispered over another gunshot. 

“On my mark.” KID muttered, picking up his fallen monocle.

 He looked dismayed as the glass was shattered completely, he placed the frame on his face anyways once he gave it a quick wipe with his glove. Takagi nodded in response, his eyes glancing down at the cuff between the two. 

“Toichi! You’re just making this harder on all of us! Get out! Now!” Snake called from somewhere in the office.

 KID gestured to move forward, slowly crouching down and moving. Takagi had no choice but to follow. 

“There!” A voice shouted, the sounds of gunfire caused the two to start running. 

“What the he-?!” One of the men fell behind them, landing on the ground hard.

 KID snickered, pulling the thin thread in his hand tighter. Another man fell somewhere else in the office, cursing loudly. The one behind the two began to slowly be pulled away by his ankles by an invisible force. KID choked out a laugh as the two ran towards the stairway. Takagi was impressed, He didn’t quite understand what he was supposed to have been doing but the fact that KID thought of this idea that quickly impressed the officer. 

A gunshot drew their attention from behind them, and KID’s wrist suddenly felt free. Takagi stumbled forward, the lack of force pulling him threw him off. The two ran through the stairwell door and down the stairs. Takagi had to stop before they reached the roof, his lungs burned and his feet felt like they were on fire. 

“What are you doing?” KID asked. 

“We gotta do something about those downstairs, They’ll just get away if we-”KID shushed him, holding three fingers up.

 “Three… Two…” A devilish smile curled onto KID’s lips, “One.”

Suddenly, police sirens began to echo around the entire building, someone began shouting from outside. The sound of scrabbling feet and gunshots echoed from the top floors down the stairs.

“What?? When did you-??” “I never called anyone. There’s no chance we’d be able to catch them in an ambush like this, It’s better to live to fight another day. Although, If you act now we might be able to get his accomplices.” KID smirked, “I doubt they’re getting out of those threads anytime soon.”

 Takagi stared at KID, astonished. “Just… who are you?”

KID tilted his hat down below his eyes. “Just a simple magician, That’s all. You’d better get calling, Keiji-san.”

 “You’re not going to tell me how you got these noises, are you?”

“Nope.” KID stuck his tongue out, “Oh, and Sorry, Looks like you aren’t impressing that girl anytime soon.”

“You’re not leaving me here, are you?!” Takagi gasped.

 “My partner should have the real police here soon as well, Two calls should have them coming twice as fast right?” “That’s not… how it works…”

KID pressed the button on his glider, hoping that it finally wanted to work with him for once. The glider popped open with a groan, Takagi really hoped that the glider was safe enough for him to use. 

“Well then, May we meet again.” KID nodded. 

“So you really are just leaving me here, huh?” 

Police sirens began to grow audible in the distance, KID gestured in their general direction. 

“You’ll be fine. They’re almost here. Make sure those guys get locked up for me, okay? I’d really appreciate it if I didn’t have as many people trying to kill me out there.” He turned to face the edge of the building, “It’s getting really annoying, you know?”

KID jumped off the building with a running start, Takagi simply sighed. Once again, he found himself cleaning up after the messes other people make. Somehow, he didn’t feel as bad this time.

[flourchildwrites]

Hello! Hope you're ok! I wanted to ask, excuses if I'm bothering you, if we will have kerosene 2 this year or should we wait 'til next one 🤭.

😅  This has been in my inbox forever, anon.  I wish I could have gotten to it sooner.  It was not my intention to ignore you.  I really appreciate nice asks, and I felt terrible that I wasn't able to give you an answer when you sent this.  I am never bothered by asks like these, anon or otherwise.

I have every intention of working on the second chapter of Kerosene and getting it posted.  In fact, I was making excellent progress with it until mid-November of 2020.  And then... I got pregnant.  🥰  And a short time later I developed severe morning sickness (which was more like constant, unrelenting nausea)...  🤢

If I hadn’t been in the middle of moderating @fmasecretsanta2020, I probably would have announced a hiatus, but I really wanted to see that commitment through.  Likewise, I didn't want to announce my pregnancy during my first trimester.  (I’ve always been shy about sharing IRL stuff on tumblr.)  Even though I know I’ve still got a long way to go to get to 40 weeks (anything can happen), I’m happy to say I’ve made it to my second trimester, and the morning sickness is beginning to let up.

In the meantime, I do have a sneak peek of chapter 2 of Kerosene:

The hallway is blessedly empty, and Ray grasps his chance to dart toward the staircase that will take him to his room in the basement.  He almost makes it before the rough sound of a young man clearing his throat cut through the muffled sounds of Gilda clearing the table.

“Retreating so soon,” Norman’s cold voice croons.  “If I remember correctly, you have dish duty with Gilda for the next month.  You aren’t skipping out on the first night of our new schedule, are you?”

Damn, he forgot about the dishes.  Still, Ray schools his expression, obliging his mouth to twist into a smirk and his back to slump forward.  The young man’s clenching hands find refuge in his pockets, and he turns to face Norman whose expression is light, except for the intense focus in his eyes that is all silver and cold.

Ray scoffs in defiance as he starts back toward the kitchen.  “That was clever of you, killing two birds with one stone.  You covered your tracks and punished me for forcing you to stray from your plan.  Don’t worry.  You can thank me later when you come to your senses.”

They’re close now, standing almost shoulder-to-shoulder on either side of the hallway.  It’s close enough for Ray to watch as his words do their worst.  If sharp looks could cut, Ray knows he’d already be in pieces on the floor.

“I don’t have to do anything,” Norman whispers with a menacing tone.  “I just have to be patient.  Do you really think you won’t hurt Emma when she realizes that you don’t really love her in that way?  She is quick and intuitive.  She’ll see your indifference for what it is, and then I will have every reason to make that rule with the full support of the household. So, I guess I should be thanking you, Ray.”

Norman has a point, but Ray won’t be rattled. He allows his gaze to remain lazy and unclenches his hands within his pockets.  Norman is, after all, a rook of a person.  He’d shrewd, to be certain, but he moves in straight lines, with near tunnel vision on the goal in sight.  Ray, on the other hand, considers himself the black knight, a bit unpredictable at first glance and more than willing to play the villain for a good cause.

“But what if you’re wrong?” Ray asks, calm and collected.  “What if I was only ever waiting for you to step aside?  We both have history with Emma, give or take some silly cup phone craft that, let’s be honest, she can’t even remember.  I’m almost as smart as you, more athletic than you and reckless just like Emma.  When you think about it, we’ve got a lot in common, and I’m not emotionally constipated.”

For a split-second, Norman can’t hide his reaction.  His thin face pales, and his baby-blue eyes flash brighter with malice.  Ray won’t pretend it doesn’t feel good to know he’s struck a nerve, even if it’s mostly bullshit.  Though Norman is emotionally constipated.  Every good lie needs a kernel of truth.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, but I would.  Unless you have a sudden urge to confess to Emma.  Then, I might be feeling magnanimous enough to step aside, but that would be too easy, wouldn’t it Norman?”

The last time Ray and Norman had this kind of passionate disagreement, Ray found his fist buried in Norman’s shirt, quietly throttling him in their Grace Field dormitory.  Somehow, Ray managed to snatch the superior bargaining position from Norman that night, and this time won’t be any different.

Norman’s cold stare pins Ray to the spot.  His lips curl into sneer, blood boiling beneath pale skin.  And yet, there is no violence in the hallway, just harsh words and cockiness countered by fury.  It’s Ray’s move.

“It’s settled then,” Norman declares.  His voice tremors in the slightest.  “I’ll give you the space you want to mess this all up, and I’ll be there for Emma when you break her heart-“

“You’ll be there for her as a lover?”

“No, like a brother,” he spats.  “Like the family I am to both of you.”

“If you say so, boss.”

Ray starts to move past Norman toward the kitchen, but he feels his companion's shoulder bump against his as they pass in the hallway.  The shoulder check isn’t forceful, but the friction between them is palpable.  And Ray knows there is no accident; it’s intentional.  Neither Ray nor Norman are children anymore.  Norman is the head of household, and Ray, though somewhat reclusive, is a senior member.  Physical fights are not couth.

Words, however, are fair game.  They can cut deep if a person knows how to use them.  Ray’s rusty perhaps, whiling away his days between oil changes and brake pad replacements in a noisy garage, but he knows an opportunity when he sees it.

“Sweet dreams,” he quips, knowing Norman will have anything but.

And yet, as Ray enters the kitchen to start washing the dishes alongside Gilda, he can’t help but feel he’s got his work cut out for him.