#tell me if i need to put a readmore it's almost 6 in the morning and i've lost all sense of perspective

[weepylucifer]

for @electricpentacle​: 36: “Don’t move, it’ll be okay.”

Spoilers for Picard finale, proceed with caution!!

Hugh strongly disliked regeneration.

He was thankfully past that phase where he had to plug himself into a charger at night. He slept in a bed, like a person, now, and only some of his implants got plugged into anything. Still, blacking out for hours on end, surrendering control of his body to a daily fit of unconsciousness, made him vaguely uncomfortable at the best of times. He much preferred being up and about. So when he woke up with no memory of having gotten horizontal and a sudden, searing, encompassing pain coursing through him as he attempted to move, his mind immediately jumped to the worst conclusion, every xB’s nightmare. Oh shit, they’re scrapping me for parts.

He had to get out of here, wherever here was. He was not restrained. Foolish of them, giving Hugh a chance to escape. He tried to sit up - again the pain - but he had to be more than the pain - it drove tears to his eyes, wrung an animal sound from his throat, somewhere between a cry and a whimper - no time for that now -

Suddenly there was a shape blocking out the light, a silhouette, someone... and hands, hands on Hugh, not hurting, not yet, but restraining, pressing him back down.

Hugh wasn’t a fighter, hated the concept, but... rats, the Romulans called them, him and all the xB. Cornered, a rat would fight. Even though it hurt like a thousand red-hot needles, he brought his arm up to shield himself against the intruder. None of his remaining implants were weaponized (which was a good thing, Hugh barely knew which end of a phaser to point where) but he could kick and scratch and bite and

“Please, calm yourself,” urged a vaguely familiar voice above him. “Please, you’re hurting yourself. Shh. Don’t move, it’ll be okay.”

“You’re going to take me apart!” How was any of this okay?

“Oh... no, my friend, I’d never. I pledged myself to your cause.”

The word friend broke through the daze, that and how sincerely shocked the voice sounded. Hugh blinked, breathed, attempted to assess. His artificial eye was swimmy, only slowly coming back online. He tried to squint the natural one and discern the shape above him. He knew that person.

Ah. A lithe frame, long strands of hair, high cheekbones, the tips of pointed ears, concerned eyes peering down at him from under elegantly slanted eyebrows. Attractive, Hugh’s mind supplied, a useless assessment. Mouthy Romulan.

“Elnor?”

Elnor gave him a shaky smile. “You’re finally awake.”

With his vision clearing as pain ebbed away, Hugh looked from Elnor to his surroundings. He was in his own bed, in his own room. Oh yes, he had a bedroom on a Borg cube now. Living space carved out on a Borg cube, where no organic living was supposed to happen, was by nature sparse, impersonal, and Hugh’s attempts to make the room his own in the past had yielded... mixed results. There was his desk and work station, where he performed impromptu maintenance on his implants, there were pictures on the walls of his friends, (the crew from his original cube, the very first xBs, Geordi at their latest meeting), there was the little rainbow flag that Geordi had gifted him for his last naming day. Little touches of color against the oppressive dark of the walls, but Hugh liked to think he’d managed to impress his personality on the formerly Collective-dominated space.

How had he gotten here? Had Elnor... brought him here? But how would Elnor know where he lived?

Hugh noticed that Elnor was squeezing his hand. Rather tightly, too. “Where... what happened?”

Elnor’s eyes turned wide and distant as he was reliving the memory. “You got stabbed. The Zhat Vash agent...”

“Yes, yes. After.” Hugh remembered being stabbed. Remembered Narissa slaughtering his people, innocents, only just on the cusp of finding back to themselves. All that potential, so many healed and vibrant lives in potentia, snuffed out and tossed away like so much garbage. This was how they perceived his people. This was how they’d always treat his people. How’s that for a lost cause?

“Seven of Nine, she put you in a... she called it an alcove,” Elnor said. “For a while you stood and healed, like the inactive drones we saw. It made me feel a bit uncomfortable. Then she had me take you here. It’s better. You are crying.”

“Seven is here?” Hugh raised a hand - it was weak, it was trembling, he’d lost a lot of blood, apparently he’d brushed up against death - and wiped his eyes. He wanted to get to the bottom of what had transpired here, learn why Seven was here, how many xB had survived, what he could do next, how he could help next - but he also wanted to cry. To mourn those he’d failed to protect in any substantial way. A good cry can work wonders - that was one of the pithy Geordi wisdoms he’d gotten over the years. But he also wanted to move on already, to get back to work.

“How long was I out? What else was going on?”

Elnor cocked his head. The movement caused a strand of his hair to shift from its queue. So long, Hugh’s mind supplied. Nice to put my hands in there, potentially. He dismissed it. Individuality meant untidy thinking, sometimes. Thoughts drifted, got hung up on matters that were irrelevant.

“A lot,” Elnor was saying. “I think Soji almost destroyed the world, but then she reconsidered. The cube is stranded now. Picard was dead, but he’s now recovering. There are no more Zhat Vash here. I’m sorry, I don’t know how many xBs are still alive, but they’re attempting to fix everything here. The Synths over at the settlement have started talking to the Federation...”

“Hold on a moment.” Hugh raised a hand and waved it weakly. “Synths? Dr. Asha almost destroyed the world? They stranded the Artifact? Picard was dead? How did I miss all this?”

Elnor was still holding his other hand. Now he gave it a few pats, seemingly absentminded, not even noticing he was doing it. “You had to heal for a while. Seven says it was to be expected, since you’ve not been Borg for so long. But now you’re awake.” Elnor let out a long, shaky exhale. His shoulders slumped. Whatever had gone on lately, it was evident that Elnor had been through a lot. “Now you’re awake.”

“Hey now,” Hugh murmured, squeezing Elnor’s hand back briefly. The guy liked physical contact, right? Hugh seemed to remember this. He sat up a little - it was already much easier now - and reached out for a one-armed hug.

Elnor reciprocated with enthusiasm, throwing both arms around Hugh and holding on for dear life. It was a tight squeeze, and another burst of pain echoed through Hugh’s body, but it passed, and he appreciated all the rest of it. Elnor was a warm weight pressed against him, solid, grounding, comforting, and he even allowed Hugh to rest his head on his shoulder for a moment. This was a good hug.

Would be nice... him and me like this, Hugh thought. Would be nice to see if he kisses as good as he hugs. Need only move a slight bit... Again, there was very little telling where that had come from. Hugh shook his head and broke away from the immediate contact. Elnor’s arms slipped off him, resting to both sides of him on the bed, still close, still warm, still bracing.

“We should get going on,” Hugh said. “I should talk to Seven, find out what exactly I missed.”

Elnor nodded. “She stayed on the station. I can take you there. The Synths let us come and go as we please now.”

Synths, huh. Hugh flicked his eyes shut for a moment. He had opposed the Synth ban when it had happened, out of principle, even as the phrase Soong-type android was still, even all these years after Lore, liable to give him a tension headache.

“But I feel discomfort,” Elnor continued. Ah, something something absolute candour.

Hugh tried to shift away from him. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Not with you,” Elnor clarified. “But today... these previous days have been... so much. And I felt wonder, and joy, and fear, and grief, and I thought you were dead, and we all almost died, and Picard actually died, although he’s doing much better already. And it’s a long walk from here to the station and I’m not sure you can do it yet. And I’d like to... sit, here, if that’s okay. We can still go later, right?”

Hugh raised an eyebrow. “You’d like to... just sit here?”

Elnor nodded. “Please. I like to see... I pledged myself to you, and it’s good to see you alive. I like to look... at you.” This truth came haltingly, with Elnor’s eyes downcast in what seemed like sudden shyness.

Hm, Hugh thought, filing that observation away for later. “Not much to look at here, but sure. We can take a moment.”

Somehow, their hands had enjoined again.

[lightanddarklove]

Connverse Week Day 2: Singing

Singing while Sloshed

Rated: Teen  | Tw: Drinking/ Drunkenness

Connie Maheswaran/Steven Universe | Connie Maheswaran & Steven Universe Read on Archive of Our Own | Day 1 prompt |  Day 3 Prompt | Day 4 prompt  | Day 5 prompt |  Day 6 Prompt | Day 7 prompt | My Writing Masterpost

This is obscenely long for what was supposed to be a drabble so I'm just going to link @susoftjockau, they’re incredibly wholesome and cute.

Edit: I may have gotten a few things wrong because I posted at 3 am, & this is an unbeta’d work. Also, being that I am not affiliated with the SJ AU, I don’t know if Fiona’s personality at all fits within its standard. If there’s another cheerleader character that her actions would make more sense for, I can totally change it. Its Connverse focused after all.

The first song Steven's riffing on is "It's Only Love" (though you may know it as Michelle) by The Beatles. The second song is "Love Like You," Steven Universe's extended credits theme.

I am continuing this for thursday’s prompt, together, as I orginally wanted them to have a conversation in the morning but at 3 am I had to call this done. I wrote over 4k words in one day that I was off from work and I can’t be doing that again, or staying up later, haha.

Lastly, the idea that Steven only likes sweet alcoholic bevs is hardwired into me, as someone who hates beer and wine, I think he wouldn't like them either. I mean he doesn't like energy drinks for stars sake (he makes a face when drinking one in Kevin Party), what about beer would be appealing when he can have wine coolers and ciders?

Anyway, feedback makes me smile, even if you tell me about typos or that I could be doing something better. Please let me know of I neglected any tags I should mention. Thanks for reading!

Edit 2: Tumblr mobile ate this post so when I got back home and tried to fix i the format didn’t have my readmore, so if you reblog it won’t be as much of a wall of text anymore. Sorry!

A night at a party for College-age Steven and Connie results in one too strong drink, a clumsy walk home, and embracing each other through the tears. Hurt-Comfort in the Soft Jock AU. Established relationship, but no significant physical intimacy. Rated T for drinking and one use of mild language. Some depression talk and self esteem issues too. Teen.

Steven had been sitting at a table, enjoying the music and sipping a soda in a red plastic cup until all that was left was ice. He was waiting for Connie to finish her conversation with Natalie across the room. He bobbed his head lightly to the music playing from the speaker by the doorway. He was smiling at Connie until Fiona came to sit down in front of him. He sat up a bit straighter and looked at her.

“Hey Fiona,” he said.

“You sticking around, Universe? Or you itching to get out of here,” asked Fiona.

“I wouldn’t say I’m itching to get out of here,” he replied. “But Connie and I were looking to leave soon.”

“Do you want another drink before you go?”

“Well, I did already have 2 wine coolers earlier, so I think I’m done for the night.”

“Really,” she asked. “I mean, how long ago was that? Like 10?”

“10:30,” he replied. “But I have to get home soon, anyway.”

“That was almost 2 hours ago.” She said. “You can have another drink. I’ll be right back, wait here. You like soda and orange flavor, right?” She began to stand and he tried to wave her back.

“Don’t trouble yourself for me, Fiona.”

“If you like soda and fruit juices, you’ll like it. You can barely taste the alcohol, the way I make it. Don’t go anywhere, I’ll make one for each of us.”

“Well, ok.”

She disappeared into the kitchen, just past the speakers. He tapped his foot and glanced back to Connie, who had leaned into Natalie as their conversation continued. Natalie had on a wry expression as she finished telling Connie something, and Connie threw her head back and laughed. It was nice to see Connie be more comfortable with herself after a few years in college. To see her laughing at a party and not have himself be the cause of it was a good feeling. Steven can’t help but feel his chest swell with pride. He smiled at her but didn’t try to get her attention yet.

With a clink, a glass was set down in front of him, Fiona sliding in from his peripherals. The drink didn’t look bubbly, a brown-orange tone with a few ice cubes and a lemon wedge hung over its rim. The glass looked like a juice glass, not designed to hold over 10 ounces, and it wasn’t full, so he assumed it was about a 6 to 8 oz drink. Fiona had her glass in her hand as she sat next to Steven with smirk.

“Ready to try something new, Steven?” Fiona asked. “Take a sip without the lemon first, then squirt it if you want it more sour.” She raised her glass, waiting to have him give her a cheers with his.

He lifted the drink and clinked hers, quietly saying “Cheers,” before bringing it to his lips. Sweet and sour was the first flavor he noted, and then mostly orange, with some cola blending in and a minor alcoholic tang. He was pretty sure the base of the liquor was tequila, but there were other flavors he couldn’t identify, since he was pretty new to trying drinks. He nodded and smiled after the first sip. “It’s good.”

“You like?” Fiona replied, voice coy.

“Yeah,” he said, and with two gulps his drink was almost gone. She snorted, seeing how quick he had downed the cocktail. He gasped quietly, the burn in his throat stronger than the flavors had made it out to be.

“Careful there, Universe, or you’ll be on the floor,” Fiona remarked. “You aren’t a lightweight, are you?”

“Its fine,” he replied, downing the last sip. His eyes drifted back to Connie who was quickly approaching from across the room, brows knitted in concern, and Natalie behind her. He moved to stand from the stool and stumbled slightly, not expecting to be feeling the alcohol so quickly. Connie moved her arms to steady him.

“You ok?” she asked, eyeing him over. Steven gave a dopey smile and leaned on her slightly.

“Heeeeeyyyy Connieeee,” his voice turning sultry and mellow. His lowered pitch sent a chill up her spine, but she pushed the feeling that thrilled her down and rounded on Fiona, glaring.

“What did you give him?” Connie barked.

“It looked like a Long Island Iced Tea,” Natalie said from behind Connie.

“I call it…” Fiona replied, pausing for effect and waving her half-finished drink in one hand, “a Strong Island Iced Tea. It’s got more tequila and sours than the standard.”

“A Long Island Iced Tea,” Connie half-shouted, exasperated. “Are you kidding me, Fiona? That has 5 kinds of alcohol in it!”

“Whoa,” Steven remarked quietly but with his lowered tone it made Connie feel warm in the pit of her stomach. “I didn’t know that. You’re so smart, Connie.” Her cheeks burned with blush as he said it with such adoration.

“He’s hammered,” Natalie crooned, half-way hiding a chuckle, before straightening up and gesturing her hand out. “Gimmie his keys. He shouldn’t be driving anywhere tonight.”

“I’m not hammered, jus’ a lil’ tipsy.” He slurred. He swayed slightly as Connie fished through his Jacket pocket. “Gimme an hour and I’ll be fiinnneee.”

“Definitely not,” she replied firmly, but not harshly. She handed Natalie Steven’s car keys. “You can stay with me tonight, ok? Sleepover?” He gasped with excitement.

“Sleepover!” he warbled hazily. “With Connie. You’re so sweet.” Her face felt hotter, as she gripped his hand in hers.

“Thanks for this, Fiona,” Connie said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “See you later.” Fiona grinned and waved.

“Don’t dare take advantage of him,” Natalie called, starting to walk back toward the party-goers. “I’ll find out. And make sure he hydrates.” She took out her phone and sent a group text to Steven and Connie, I have your keys, come get them after you’ve slept it off.

“I got this,” Connie replied, exasperation clear in her tone. She looked back in his face at his reddening eyes and put on a plating smile, trying to speak more kindly. “Let’s go get some rest, ok? You look tired.”

“You’re the best, Connie.” He said, glowing with inebriation. She began to lead him out when he started to serenade her, causing her mild blush to spread to her ears, face beet red. The tune was recognizable, a reworked Beatles cover.

“Connie, my sweet

You have made my heart feel joy complete

My Connie.”

“He doesn’t normally do this in front of others,” she called, voice slightly shaken with embarrassment to the partygoers as she led him through the entryway. “Please ignore us and have a good night.” They passed through the main doorway of the off campus housing as he continued his song.

“Connie, my sweet

Sont les mots qui vont tres bien ensemble

Tres bien ensemble”

His French pronunciation was faltering. She knew he was at an intermediate Italian level. But in trying to speak French, it sounded like he had tried Duolingo for an hour and was making a fool of himself pretending he had been doing it his whole life. He pitched forward again and she had to nearly dive to keep him upright. She hoisted as much of his broad shoulders and chest over her smaller frame without attempting to carry him outright as he sang sweetly in her ear, legs stumbling behind her.

“I love you, I love you, I love you

That's all I want to say

Until I find a way

I will say the only words I know that you'll understand”

She lead him on sidewalks, trying to take the most direct route to her dorm and avoiding uneven surfaces as best she could. Her blush had died down, mainly because other people weren’t watching them. The way his warm frame leaned against her dragging the thrilling feeling out of her again, making her heart pound firmly against her ribs. Still, she tried to keep focus and lead them out of the chill night air as quick as she could.

“Sont les mots qui vont tres bien ensemble

Tres bien ensemble

I need to, I need to, I need to

I need to make you see

Oh, what you mean to me

Until I do, I'm hoping you will know what I mean

I love you”

“You’re so sappy,” Connie replied, voice quiet. “I know that you would do his sober, but I just wish this kind of thing was just for the two of us, you know?”

“I want you, I want you, I want you

I think you know by now

I'll get to you somehow

Until I do, I'm telling you so you'll understand”

She leaned against him as she held his hand outside of her dorm, fumbling with her keys as she kept her left hand gripped tight to his right.

“Connie, my sweet

Sont les mots qui vont tres bien ensemble

Tres bien ensemble

And I will say the only words I know that you'll understand

My Connie.”

He faltered a bit as they came through the doorway, smacking his left arm just above his wrist as she lead him upstairs to her room. Connie winced at the sound. She was grateful her roommate Carly was out of town for the evening. She still probably will hear about it, the rumor mill ran strong on this campus, but at least Connie was spared from more embarrassment this evening.

“You done now?” she asked. She sat him down on the bed and dug through her closet for his spare pair of sweatpants she kept there.

“Uh-huh,” Steven replied, voice thick and alluring. “Thanks for takin’ me back, Strawberry, I know you always lookin’ out for me. I’m lucky I have someone like you. Love you.”

She shivered at the praise, avoiding his eyes as she set the pants down on a clean patch of floor.

“You need to drink some water and take some aspirin before bed.” Connie ordered. “Stay put, I’m going to get both of those things.” She pulled her own pajamas from the corner of the bed and closed the bathroom door behind her. She grabbed the aspirin bottle from the cabinet and set it on the counter. Glancing back to ensure that the door was fully closed, she peeled her outfit off quickly and tugged her PJs on. Grabbing her hairbrush and two pills from the bottle of medicine, she backed outside. Steven still sat on the bed, swaying lazily.

“Hiiii Connnniiieeee.” His voice had drawn back up to its usual tenor as he greeted him. She smiled.

“Hi Steven, stay here for a minute, ok?” She replied. “I’m going to the kitchen, and I want you to wait because I don’t want to risk you falling on the stairs.” She placed the brush on the pants she had set out and kept the pills clutched to her palm by her ring and pinky finger.

“Yooooouuuu got it!” He gave a thumbs up.

She darted out of the room after he confirmed he would stay, and hurried down the stairs. She pulled 2 water bottles from the fridge, both eco-friendly bottles that she and Steven had shared before. After grabbing clean reusable straws from the drying rack to put in the bottles, she marched back upstairs. She left her door open and found Steven had taken his shoes and jacket off in the time she was gone. He laid on his stomach, feet crossed and head propped up on his arms across her bed diagonally.

“You’re cute in your PJs, Connie.” He caught her off guard with that compliment. But she crossed the room anyway and sat next to his head. Despite how lucid he sounded, it was best he got some water in him before going to sleep.

“Thanks, but can you sit up for me? I have some medicine I need to give you and then I’ll brush your hair.”

“Yay! Sleepover activities!” He propped himself up onto his elbows and stuck his tongue out, leaning his head back for the aspirins. She was glad he trusted her this much, but it was a bit worrying that he was so lax. She hoped he would always keep himself safe as he dropped the two pills into his open mouth and pressed the straw of the bottle to his tongue. He leaned on one hand as he took the bottle from her in the other, sipping the water through the straw. If he was always this trusting while drunk, someone could take advantage of him, and that thought scared her. She wanted to think about anything else, so she gently took his curls in her hand and gave them a gentle stroke. A chill went along his back and shoulders and he made a little excited noise.

“I want to brush your hair,” she offered. “Can I take your hair tie out?”

“Mmm-hmm,” his response came around the straw. With a gentle tug the hair tie was out and his curls came loose, framing his maturing face. She stood, watching him as she moved toward the brush on the floor. He finished his sip and let out a contented sigh. “I hope I haven’ been too much trouble, Berry.”

“What?” she asked as she got the brush and came back to sit next to him.

“I’m all loopy, an’ you’ve been takin’ care of me.” His response was quiet but mostly coherent.

“I know you would do the same for me, drunk, sick or whatever, Biscuit,” she replied. “I’m not upset that you need help. It’s ok to ask. Now I’m gonna ask that you sit in front of me so I can brush your hair.”

“Kaaay.” He called, setting the water down on her end table. She gasped as he suddenly rolled off the bed and landed on his left forearm and knees, not reacting quite fast enough to catch himself with his hands. It was still impressive he hadn’t fallen onto his face.

“Steven-“Connie scolded.

“Huh?” he sat up and scooted his back up against her knees.

“Don’t be so careless,” she replied. “You scared me. And drink your water, please.”

“I can do that,” he said. He leaned over to grab the bottle and then rested his head touching her knees. She flipped his hair up onto her thighs, accessing the ends and began brushing. He hummed contentedly. “You’re great, Connie. I’m glad that this all didn’ go badly.” Her brows furrowed with concern as she worked through his tangles. “Was scared, ya know? If you weren’ keeping me calm, I might’ve been the angry drunk type, an’ made a mess of things.”

“I-“ Connie felt her hands shake slightly as she tried to muster a response. “That could happen to anybody, you shouldn’t worry too much…”

“Buh my powers, if ‘m not careful, I could hurt somebody, then I’d get expelled, or arrested, fer sure.” She gripped the brush tightly and accidentally pulled back on a knot. He hissed quietly through his teeth and she dropped the brush. His shoulders trembled slightly and she heard a sniff. She dropped down onto her knees, hugging him from behind.

“No Steven,” she replied, her voice thick with emotion. “I know you wouldn’t intentionally hurt anyone.” He sniffed again, putting his water down and scrubbed at his face.

“Turns out… I’m actually a sad drunk,” he joked, and turned to face her. Her eyes were shining with unshed tears and he gasped. “Oh nooooo… now I’ve made you sad. I’m sorry. ‘m so sorry. So so sorry.” He turned around fully, kneeling and held her tight to his chest. Fat tears dripped down his cheeks. She clutched to his shirt, resting her head on his shoulder and let her own tears fall.

“You don’t- you shouldn’t feel like it’s- it isn’t your fault,” she stuttered.

“I made you cr-cry,” He bawled. “I’m always hurting people, even wh-when I don’t meeean to.” She took a steadying breath, trying to defuse his turbulent emotions.

“You’re allowed to forgive yourself, Steven,” she replied, looking up. Her eyes still shone with wetness, staring into his face as he looked away.

“I- I- embar- rrassed you, I made you cryyyy, and- nd I burdened you with my prob-blems,” he hiccupped. “I shouldn’ be here- I need to-“He moved to stand but Connie held tight.

“No.” she ordered. “You should stay. You’re upset and you’re allowed to be. You can talk to me about anything. Please don’t go. I’ll worry if you leave.”

“B-B-but…”

“Please,” she repeated.

That was convincing enough. He wilted into her touch, resting his head on her shoulder. Any sign of resistance melted away into fatigue. A few trace sobs shook his frame before they quieted. She kept one hand on his shoulder and grabbed Steven’s water with the other. She pulled away long enough to press the drink into his hands. He nodded, sitting down fully and drinking quietly. She sat in front of him and ran one hand through his hair, and gave him gentle strokes on his upper arm with her opposite arm.

“You look like you’re stewing.” She remarked gently. “Having a few drinks doesn’t make you a bad person. Asking for help doesn’t either. I’ll gladly have a few embarrassing stories about me if it means you get to go home safe tomorrow. Letting you leave by yourself and get hurt would have been far worse than anything else that could have gone wrong. You deserve to be safe, ok?” He nodded meekly, finishing the drink with a loud slurp. “You aren’t asking too much to be here. You don’t deserve to feel like a burden, and no one I know would ever say that about you.” He quietly leaned forward, dropping the empty bottle to the space between his thighs and went to press his forehead to hers. She obliged him.

“Thank you,” he half-whispered.

“Now, are you steady enough to stand, or will you need help getting changed?” she leaned over to where the sweatpants she had put out for him earlier sat and pulled herself close to him after grabbing them. He opened his palms to her and let her place them in his hands.

“I think I got it.” His face was tinged with blush at the suggestion. He pressed his right palm to the floor, moving to stand. She pulled herself to her feet first and offered him a hand up. He threw his pants over his shoulder and took his hand. She smiled gently at him. He fondly returned the gesture, steadily making his way to the bathroom door.

“Oh wait, I just want to grab something out of there,” she called, hurriedly stepping in front of him. She snatched the aspirin off the counter and put it away, grabbing makeup wipes and a compact mirror from her medicine cabinet. She stepped out, gesturing behind her. “It’s all yours. Please be careful, maybe sit on the toilet to get changed? I don’t want you to fall.”

With a sigh he nodded. He stepped through the doorway and closed it behind him. She leaned against the wall next to the door and took a make-up wipe out, swiping her mascara streaked eyes before opening the compact. As she worked the wipe across her face she herd Steven’s gentle singing come through the door, just over the sounds of him changing.

“If I could begin to be

Half of what you think of me

I could do about anything

I could even learn how to love

When I see the way you act

Wondering when I'm coming back

I could do about anything

I could even learn how to love like you”

She recognized the song as being something he had said the gems had sung for him when he was young. It stung that he might think these kind of thoughts about himself. She swallowed hard.

“Love like you

I always thought I might be bad

Now I'm sure that it's true

'cause I think you're so good

And I'm nothing like you”

“Steven, I promise that isn’t true…” She called through the wall. She heard him stand and move toward the door.

“Look at you go

I just adore you

I wish that I knew

What makes you think I'm so special…”

She stood as the door opened and embraced him. He leaned forward into her and sang quietly into her neck. She held him close and rubbed soothing circles into his shoulders. He swayed gently into her touch as he crooned.

“If I could begin to do

Something that does right by you

I would do about anything

I would even learn how to love

When I see the way you look

Shaken by how long it took

I could do about anything

I could even learn how to love like you

Love like you

Love me like you…”

They stood in silence for a moment and just enjoyed being held by each other. After a bit, she lowered her hand and took him by the wrist, leading him to the bed. After he sat, she took her garbage and placed it near the head of the bead and cleared her night stand.

“You’re going to be on the outside of the bed tonight.” She remarked quietly. “I’m the big spoon this time. Just let me know if you start to feel sick. I don’t care if I’m sleeping, I will hold your hair back.” He nodded. “How do you feel right now?”

“Not great, but, better than before,” he muttered.

“Well, I’m going to try and make it better. Lie down, ok?”

“Mmm-hmm.” He obliged without protest. She grabbed the comforter, tucked him in and crossed the room, shutting the light off. She stepped over him and lied down by his left shoulder. She untucked that side of the bed to get herself firmly snuggled into the weighted blanket, and nimbly re-tucked them both in.

“Night, biscuit.” She murmured. “Love you.”

“Love you too.” He replied. “Night.” He turned to face away, pointing his face toward the trash bin in case his stomach lurched in protest while sleeping. She rubbed few more gentle circles into his back and let herself be comforted with his warmth beside him. He heard her breathing even out before long, hoping that sleep would come easier with her beside him. It wasn’t long before the heaviness in his heart was outweighed by heavy eyelids, and drifted into slumber.

------------

Morning came, as it always did, a bit too soon for Connie’s liking. She gave a quiet sigh through her nose and lifted her head to check on Steven, who she could hear was snoring quietly. He had turned in the night to lie on his back, and his calf draped over her lower legs. His expression looked peaceful, but dark circles still showed on the pale skin beneath his eyes. Craning her neck, she could see the bathroom had looked as she had left it, as did the trash bin. It was unlikely seeing these two things in place that he had gotten sick in the night and not woken her.

She laid back down, pressing her face into the soft skin of his upper arm. He smiled contentedly but stayed asleep. It was a Sunday, so no pressing commitments for either of them. She could let him rest and deadlines for Monday be damned. She draped her arm across his torso, and let herself melt into the bed. She told him he deserved to be safe, and she never felt safer than with her next to him. Hopefully, the reverse was true, and she could help him to feel safe and loved. For now, what he needed was sleep, and she wouldn’t deny him that peace. He gave her joy and that was precious to her. So she would help however she could, and that meant staying in bed. She would take it any day.

[do-your-socks-have-holes-in-them]

6. “Of course you’re not perfect. No one expects you to be.” With Deceit and Roman?

oooo time for roman angst

goin under a readmore because how did this get so long is it good? who knows! is it 1500 words long and full of roman angst? yes

prompt list

Roman returns to his room after the latest, not-exactly-greatest, brainstorming session with the other sides. It wasn’t all bad, of course- some of his ideas were liked, or at least liked enough to be kept for further revision. But the problem is that he’s having to remind himself it wasn’t all bad in the first place, because it means the vast majority of what he brought to the table was… not good. Rejected, unworthy of even considering any further. All the optimism and false confidence in the world can’t truly convince Roman he’s anything but a failure, if so much of what he’d originally thought to be good turns out to be hot garbage in the harsh light of reality. Sure, he can’t expect everything to be the best idea ever, but Thomas deserves better than this from him- he ought to be perfect for him. Roman knows everyone is disappointed with him, even if they’re mostly too nice to let him see it- but he sees the little glances when they think he’s looked away, and he knows what they mean.

He sighs heavily and falls into the chair in front of his vanity. He should take off his makeup before he falls asleep with it still on. Bright lipgloss and glittery red eyeshadow- applied this morning, when he felt ready to take on the day and wanted everyone’s eyes on him. Now, he wishes he could disappear. He doesn’t even get half the makeup off before he breaks at the sight of his miserable self in the mirror, tears streaming down his face as he squeezes his eyes shut. He knows he’ll only feel worse if he’s watching himself cry.

There are hands on Roman’s shoulders, squeezing lightly to announce their presence, and he doesn’t startle or open his eyes. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s subconsciously created an imaginary person in his room to provide himself comfort. He sits there trying to pull himself together while the hands gently remove the rest of the makeup for him, wiping away tears at the same time. He shivers at the soft touches. So badly Roman wishes he could have this for real, another actual person here for him in his vulnerable moment, but no- if anyone real were here, they would see how weak he truly is. He can’t ever have that. In any case, his imagination has outdone itself this time: the hands, now moving down to massage the tension from his shoulders, feel very realistic- if just a little too cold to be real.

And oh, Roman’s imaginary companion of the day is very good at giving him a massage. He leans back into it, keeping just enough restraint to avoid falling out of his chair should they suddenly vanish. The little sounds of relief he’s making are almost embarrassing. He smiles and tilts his head back, finally feeling like he’s not going to be sitting here crying forever, and opens his eyes- an action which should dismiss the imaginary person.

Which is why he freezes, letting out a very undignified shriek in the moment before his mouth is covered, when the first thing he sees is Deceit standing over him and looking almost as panicked as Roman himself.

“Would you mind not screaming like that, someone is going to think you’re being murdered!”

Roman considers asking how he’d prefer him to scream instead, but he doesn’t have the energy to start any banter. “What do you want?” he asks wearily, once Deceit sees he’s done freaking out and takes his hand away. He can already feel himself plummeting back into self-hatred, thinking about everything the other must have seen. Maybe that’s what he wants, to exploit Roman’s weakness. Well, let him try, he certainly can’t get any more pathetic than he is right-

“That,” Deceit snaps. “That, right there. Is why I’m here.”

Roman looks at him for another moment, then lets his head fall with a quiet sigh. He must have read the direction of his thoughts in his expression. “Get on with it, then.”

“Pardon?”

A hand is flapped in his general direction. “Mocking me, or whatever else it is you came to do.” His eyes are fixed on the frame around the mirror, his face resigned. “Tell me what a sorry excuse for a side I am and get it over with.”

“Oh…” Deceit starts to move, and Roman closes his eyes, bracing for harsher words than even his own thoughts can come up with. The next thing he knows, Deceit’s hands are cupping his face- no gloves, he notices distantly- and he looks at him in silent confusion. There’s an unreadable expression on Deceit’s face. “Oh, Roman, no. I’m not here to be cruel to you.”

“Then what?” Roman asks desperately. He can feel the tears building up again, hot and humiliating, and there’s nothing he can do to stop them. He squeezes his eyes shut once more as those cool hands, comforting despite everything, wipe them away. He doesn’t want to see Deceit pretending to care anymore.

“Roman, look at me, come on,” he says, trying to tilt Roman’s face up towards him.

Roman shakes his head silently.

“I’m only trying to help.”

He bites his lip. “I’m not stupid enough to believe that.”

“You’re not stupid, no,” Deceit agrees smoothly. “But perhaps a little too stubborn to see that it’s the truth. I do want to see Thomas succeed, after all, and that’s going to be difficult if his creativity is too busy being miserable and lying to himself to do anything.”

Roman’s breath catches, and he curls in on himself, halfheartedly trying to shake off Deceit’s hands. “I know, I’m only making things worse, it’s all I ever do anymore,” he chokes out. “Leave me alone, I- I’ll try harder, okay, I’ll be better.”

“Roman!”

Somehow, the note of stern command in Deceit’s voice has him freezing in place.

“Look at me.”

He opens his eyes reluctantly, and is rewarded with a small, encouraging smile.

“Of course you’re not perfect,” Deceit tells him, somehow immediately cutting to the heart of the problem. “No one expects you to be.”

Roman can’t keep up eye contact for long. He shakes his head again, more harshly this time, and isn’t quite sure himself what he means by it. “I…”

“Don’t argue, Roman. The only one with such high expectations for you is yourself.” He softens after a moment. “...Get some rest, okay? You’ll feel better in the morning.”

He returns to himself a little at that. “What? No, I can’t, need to… work.” He gets up, ignoring the tired, dizzy feeling to turn in the direction of his desk. If he doesn’t get to work, how is he going to make the next session any better than today’s?

“No, you need to sleep.” Roman isn’t sure how it happens, but Deceit takes his hand lightly and the next thing he knows he’s sitting on his bed, blinking in confusion. How tired is he right now? (Can’t he even do this right?)

Seemingly out of nowhere, Roman bursts into tears.

“Oh- shoot, um- please don’t cry, why are you crying? Should I- get someone? One of the others?”

“No!” Roman’s hand shoots out to grab his wrist. “I can’t- they can’t… see me like this,” he pleads haltingly.

“Okay, I won’t,” Deceit assures him, secretly more than a little relieved that he won’t have to talk to anyone.

Roman takes a breath and releases him, staring at his own hands as he tries to calm down. After a moment of hesitation, Deceit sits on the bed and tries rubbing his shoulders. It worked before, and it seems to be working again- Roman practically melts into him with a small noise.

“I just… I just- can’t do anything,” he finally says, “a-and if I can’t do anything then what am I even supposed to do?!” He punctuates the end of his sentence by throwing his hands up in the air, so at least he’s got some energy back. Not enough to be trying to work, though.

“You can go to sleep,” Deceit reminds him. He places a hand on Roman’s chest and, not unkindly, pushes him back until he’s flat against his pillows. “You had a long day. It will be better in the morning.”

Despite all his whining, Roman puts up very little actual resistance, snapping himself into pajamas and sinking into the softness of his bed. Deceit lets out a soft sigh of relief that his work here is done and turns to go, but Roman catches his sleeve.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, already half-asleep, and then, “Stay?”

And, well, it’s very hard to resist the puppy-eyes he’s making, especially when he was so recently distraught. Deceit mutters something under his breath along the lines of “oh, all right,” and sits back down beside him, pressing a sneaky kiss to Roman’s temple on impulse. He’s too sleepy by now to remember that in the morning, right? Before long, he’s somehow wound up under the covers and dozing off alongside Roman, despite his best intentions.

[raiswanson]

The Loving Seal shorts #6: Need (Kaelan PoV)

(Oh snap! We’re at the end of the month and the end of the shorts! I hope everyone had as fun of a ride as I did! Because I DID have fun! It’s all ‘official’ Loving Seal material ahead [unless another short comes along, which is extremely possible] and the love these little pieces have gotten will definitely help keep me going as I work on finishing this draft so I can share it with all you lovely people ❤️❤️❤️ )

This is short six of six that I wrote in March in preparation of Camp Nano! In a fun twist, today we end the shorts with the first one I wrote! Taking place only a short while before The Loving Seal begins, we find...well, I think the pre-readmore snippet tells you about all you need to know.

(This short is about 1200 words long)

Another spear sank in to my side, and the last of my air bubbled out on a weak cry of pain. The dwindling strength left in my flippers fled, and I stopped fighting the rope I’d been pulling against for the last hour. I was tired. So, so tired. I’d spent the morning dodging sharks and already come out bleeding for it, and as the humans above began reeling me up I was mystified to see I still had blood left to cloud the water.

I just wanted to rest. It was too hard. So long I’d swam these alien waters. So long I’d searched coast after coast, settlement after settlement. Fled countless human encounters and even more with the wildlife. It was all so exhausting, being beaten and chased again and again and again...and for what? I couldn’t remember. It was all so foggy and distant, like nothing was real. Like I was already asleep.

The rope tugged, sending a flash of pain arcing through me. It faded just as fast, and a quiet part of me noted that that was very bad, but I was too tired to care. My mind drifted, trying to remember why I was here, why these humans were pulling me up to their boat to kill the seal they’d hunted. There had been something. Something important. So, so important. The most important thing in the world…

Nivvie needs you, pleaded a quiet voice, putting a startled jolt through my tail. I resisted the rope’s pull for a moment, trying to remember who “Nivvie” was. I knew that name. The sound of it sang through my thoughts like the sea come alive, but it brought with it a pain worse than any of the spears wedged deep beneath my flesh.

No she doesn’t. Vina doesn’t need anyone. She’s too strong, chided another voice, louder and sourer. It drained the strength right back out of me. I remembered a face. A beautiful face full of dark spots as wild and vibrant as the dark hair around it. A graceful speckled form weaving through the water just ahead, taunting me to hurry up. As the image came to mind I could almost see it up ahead now, blurry and just out of reach, flippers waving to urge me closer.

But I need her, I murmured to the voices, making the loud one buzz.

Do you? It asked. I blinked slow and pondered.

I…

You do. And she needs you, the softer voice whispered, soothing me even as my lungs began to burn and fire filled them. You need her like you need air.

But I’m tired. I can’t go to her, I whined, even as my flippers moved to pull against the rope. They failed me again right away, but I could feel my mind slowly settling back inside me where it belonged.

And you never will if you do not fight, both voices surged this time, startling enough power into my tail to send me shooting back down toward the sea floor before the rope snapped taunt and held me in place.

I can’t fight anymore. I’ve been fighting so long and I…

And?

I can’t.

You can’t, or you don’t want to?

I’m tired.

And what about Nyvina?

The name brought the full image blaring bright behind my eyes, sharp enough that I gasped in a gulp of water and choked. I lost distance to the pulling rope as my burning lungs fought and spasmed, and could have cried as I was unable to resist despite my newly revived need to continue.

But I can’t move. I can’t do anything, I sobbed, feeling small and alone when there was no answer. What could I do? I was weak, and exhausted, and no amount of will to live could call up power I’d long expended. I’d given all I had and come up short.

I was lost.

I’m sorry Vina. I’m sorry, I thought, staring blearily into the open sea as though my hope alone could summon her.

The blurry form remained just past my reach, beckoning like a siren—more lovely than any siren—as if to say, “Come. Come to me, I’m here.”

My flippers twitched but remained useless and dead at my sides. Everything was so dark now. Hazy. Only her gray speckled form remained in my sight, silently pleading me to join her. Waving in the darkness.

My head bumped the bottom of the row boat. It wouldn’t be long now.

At least I was able to see her again. Even if it was just a vision, I sighed to myself as I tried to take in my last moments of sight.

Her form shifted. Began to move. I stared in wonder as she surged forward, moving with blurry speed right toward me. She stretched, and the next thing I knew she was no longer a beautiful seal, but a hazy pinkish rocket shooting through the water. The pink blur shot past, and I closed my eyes as a loud bang shook the sea around me.

Screams followed, and I forced my eyes open again to see the water full of humans before I couldn’t hold on any longer. The world slipped away as the sea entered my lungs, only to burst into vibrancy in a flash of horrible agony as something bumped my belly and I was thrust into the air.

I heard rapid clicking over my own wretched gasping and coughing as fire flowed through my lungs and I reeled, and an urgent prodding from below before the presence left me to hold myself at the surface. Shock alone drove me to float, and as I fought to breathe and keep breathing I heard human shrieks in the water.

My eyes could hardly register anything as I tried to face the sound, but all I could make out was a flailing shape vanishing into the darkness that was the world around me. Sinking low, low into the deep as other floundering shapes tried to scatter. They each vanished the same way, one moment flopping about in the current, and the next...gone. Gone to the depths with a fading, bubbling scream.

I bobbed in the choppy waves and waited for my turn, only to find the prodding return, pushing to keep my head above water.

“Who…?” I asked in selkie, hearing a splash beside me as clicking filled the air.

“Kaelan?” an unfamiliar, pitched voice asked.

“How do you…?” I tried to open my eyes and failed. Breathing was hard enough, speaking near impossible. I dipped lower toward the sea as my short burst of strength faded. There wouldn’t be another one.

“Your pod asked me to watch for you. I heard your cries and followed. You are safe now. I shall return you to them.”

“No… Niv...” I protested, sinking.

The clicking turned frustrated, and after a splash I was lifted to the surface once more. “We will discuss this later. For now, rest, and I will take you to shore. I can return you to no one if you are dead,” they said, making me slump as I was finally given permission to stop.

Yes. Rest. I would rest. I would sleep, and dream to remember Nyvina. And when I woke, I would be ready to move again. I would go to her, wherever she was in the great sea.

She needed me. I needed her. It had been that way as long as I could remember. No matter what the voices of exhaustion said, that was the truth. It was the whole truth, the most important one in the world. We belonged together.

And once I’d regained my strength, not a force in the ocean would keep us apart.

[lvcifvr]

Lol, I it was a mistake to reblog that, DO ALL THE EVENS!

you got me there orz

ALRIGHT 

putting it under a readmore ‘cause this shit be long 

2: do you like the feeling of cold air on your cheeks on a wintery day?

yes i do, it makes me feel alive - as if electricity is running through my veins

4: how do you take your coffee/tea?

coffee - black with a decent amount of sugar; tea - black with a decent amount of sugar

6: do you keep plants?

i do not but i would like to, especially succulents

8: what artistic medium do you use to express your feelings?

writing mostly

10: do you sleep on your back, side, or stomach?

side mostly

12: what’s your favorite planet?

pluto!

14: if you were to live with your best friend in an old flat in a big city, what would it look like?

a mix of industrial and traditional with lots of plants, art, comfortable furniture, gaming setups, a huge kitchen, etc.

16: what’s your favorite pasta dish?

cold pasta salad with the multi-colored noodles, black olives, etc.

18: tell us about something dumb/funny you did that has since gone down in history between you and your friends and is always brought up.

what friends lol nah but like, i don’t have friends now that i’ve had for a long time so there’s nothing to tell 

20: what’s your favorite eye color?

hazel, grey, brown

22: are you a morning person?

it depends

24: is there someone out there you would trust with every single one of your secrets?

yeah

26: what are the shoes you’ve had for forever and wear with every single outfit?

just my regular sneakers - i need new insoles for them lmao

28: sunrise or sunset?

sunset

30: think of it: have you ever been truly scared?

yes - i have ptsd from it lmao

32: tell us a story of something that happened to you after 3AM when you were with friends.

again…

34: tell us about the stuffed animal you kept as a kid. what is it called? what does it look like? do you still keep it?

my gran gave me a dark brown, almost black teddy bear for christmas when i was 15. his name is mebby. i still sleep with it every night lmao.

36: which band’s sound would fit your mood right now?

uhhh probably… sleeping at last?

38: tell us about your pet peeves!

willful ignorance, rude customers at my job, people not using their freaking blinkers

40: think of a piece of jewelry you own: what’s it’s story? does it have any meaning to you?

i only really wear one piece of jewelry - it’s virgil’s necklace lmao and its meaning is that i am literally virgil and thomas’ portrayal of him and how he’s treated and then how things change for him and stuff just really resonated with me, so yeah.

42: do you have a favorite coffee shop? describe it!

lol no

44: when was the last time you remember feeling completely serene and at peace with everything?

never

46: tell us the worst pun you can think of.

heck.. uhh… 

48: what was your biggest fear as a kid? is it the same today?

i don’t really remember my childhood so idk and probably not lmao

50: what’s an odd thing you collect?

temporary tattoos? i have over 250

52: what are your favorite memes of the year so far?

uhhhhh idk lmao sanders sides memes in general i guess

54: who’s the last person you saw with a true look of sadness on their face?

my mom

56: what are some things you find endearing in people?

heartfelt laughs that can be goofy sometimes; gigglesnorting for sure

58: who’s the wine mom and who’s the vodka aunt in your group of friends? why?

i’m the vodka aunt probably, idk who the wine mom is

60: do you like poetry? what are some of your faves?

yes but i don’t actively read it? so idk

62: do you drink juice in the morning? which kind?

rarely but apple juice

64: what color is the sky where you are right now?

black ‘cause it’s nearly 2 am

66: what would your ideal flower crown look like?

those small multi-colored wildflowers that you find on the side of highways in the middle of nowhere

68: what’s winter like where you live?

it’s on and off. sometimes it is warm / doesn’t snow / doesn’t change pretty much and sometimes we have a ton of snow and it is freezing

70: have you ever used a ouija board?

i used to own one and yes

72: are you a person who needs to note everything down or else you’ll forget it?

ye lmao

74: describe a good friend of yours without using their name or gendered pronouns.

they are adorable and a great hugger, very openminded and accepting and supportive

76: is there anything you should be doing right now but aren’t?

replying to the rp but i’m finishing this first rq

78: are you in the minion hateclub or fanclub?

hate

80: what color are your bedroom walls? did you choose that color? if so, why?

burnt orange bc it was my uncle’s room before he moved out and he was a nascar fan z

82: are/were you good in school?

i was the Gifted Kid TM that ended up nearly failing lmao

84: are you planning on getting tattoos? which ones?

i already have two - the trans symbol on the inside of my left wrist and a fox on the inside of my right forearm. i’m not sure about getting more but probably.

86: do you like concept albums? which ones?

i am indifferent mostly

88: are there any artistic movements you particularly enjoy?

surrealism

90: talk about your one of your favorite cities.

i haven’t been anywhere so

92: are you a person who drowns their pasta in cheese or a person who barely sprinkles a pinch?

in the middle???

94: who was the last person you know to have a birthday?

sara, i legit went to her b-day party earlier lmao

96: do you install your computer updates really quickly or do you procrastinate on them a lot?

procrastinate lmao

98: when’s the last time you went hiking? did you enjoy it?

never

100: if you were presented with two buttons, one that allows you to go 5 years into the past, the other 5 years into the future, which one would you press? why?

the past because i have regerts

and done finally

[arcadiaoaksusedbooks]

Shard Sister’s Texting: The Noatak Horror (part 2)

Under readmore for length

Alora: Sup nerd?

Elisi: Who is this?

Alora: The dumbass sister. How the hell do I get to your place of work?

Elisi: Airplane

Alora: Well, yeah, I’m landing in Anchorage soon. How do I get to you from there?

Elisi: Airplane

Elisi: Literally

Alora: Cause there’s no buses or trains that go there!

Elisi: Unless you can make magic portals

Elisi: Or find the Anchorage Trollmarket and get in a gyre

Elisi: You need to get in an airplane

Elisi: And take it to the local airstrip.

Elisi: There is literally no other way to get here. There’s no roads.

Alora: You picked the worst place to live.

Elisi: Why are you coming here?

Alora: (sends the picture of the statue from earlier)

Alora: Look familiar?

Elisi: Very. Where did you find that?

Alora: It washed up on my beach yesterday with a couple of others. Nadia said you’ve been finding a bunch more.

Elisi: I have. A lot of them since I last talked to her.

Alora: These are trolls.

Elisi: What?

Alora: It’s K-Spar. The ones I found took sunlight straight to the face and look it.

Alora: Like men looking at Medusa and screaming as they turn to stone.

Alora: Am I wrong?

Elisi: No. You’re not.

Elisi: So what warrants you coming here to investigate?

Alora: Hunch.

Elisi: Okay. I can arrange for a plane to come and get you. But you’re coming in late, so it’ll have to be tomorrow morning. Can you check into a hotel when you land?

Alora: (sighing emoji) Yeah, I can do that. Meanwhile, anything weird happening that might be considered troll activity?

Elisi: Now that you mention it, yes.

Elisi: There’s been a shortage of wildlife lately. May is when everything starts coming around, but there’s been almost nothing. Sometimes it takes a month or so for animals to show up, but combined with this and stone cadavers of very small trolls...

Elisi: What kind of trolls are they? I’ve never seen anything like them.

Alora: Me neither. Nadia is doing research of her own.

Elisi: Okay.

Elisi: Some of the locals are finding pets going missing as well.

Alora: That’s troll activity if I’ve ever heard it.

Elisi: Yeah, now that you mention it.

Alora: Anything else?

Elisi: No, nothing. Odd, we would have sniffed out any other weird trolls in this area. It’s been peaceful other than this.

Alora: Hey, I’m gonna see about that gyre. Are any of the trolls in Anchorage... from way back when?

Elisi: I think you’re okay. Most of them are reformed or retired Gumm-gumms.

Alora: OMG please tell me you’re serious!

Elisi: (pleased emoji) I’m sure they’ll let you use the gyre if you ask.

Alora: (happy dance gif)

Alora: I’ll be there tonight! I’m a steak and potatoes kind of girl!

Elisi: I’ll invite you to dinner, and I’ll let you stay the night, but that’s it.

Alora: Aw, c’mon!

Elisi: I’ll see you in the morning. If you get here by gyre tonight, you’re free to walk around the basin and see things for yourself.

Alora: Well, does the village have a hotel?

Elisi: A Motel 6

Alora: Good enough for me. Fine, I’ll see you in the morning. Lemme know if Nadia texts you with something.

Elisi: The same for you. If these things are messing with my eco system, I’m going to have to exterminate them. So, I’ll need your help if that’s the case.

Alora: No complaints here. See you tomorrow.

Elisi: Safe travels, worst sister.

Alora: WORST?!

Alora: You mean coolest.

Elisi: You’re the only Shard who’s still a war criminal.

Alora: (surprised Pikachu face)

Elisi: I jest, I still love you.

Alora: Imma punch you in the face when I see you.

Elisi: I will punch your face clean off your head

Alora: I will punch you first

Elisi: We’ll see when you get here.

Alora: Fine. Touching down in three hours. The gyre should take ten minutes. But I’ll see you in the morning reguardless.

Elisi: Safe travels, worst sister.

Alora: (one punch man gif, of Saitama punching the camera)

Alora: Seriously, see you then. Bye.

Elisi: Bye.

(Nadia is sent a video from Alora’s phone the next day.)

(The video is a selfie shot of Elisi and Alora, arms over their shoulders, Alora waving at the camera before making a fist and punching Elisi square in the nose with it. Elisi is unfazed, slowly turning to look at Alora. Alora chuckles nervously before Elisi puts the phone down and Alora mocks screaming in fear as she’s chased.)

Nadia: (texts) You two play nice!

Nadia: Nothing found about the statues yet. I’ll keep you informed.

(Nadia is sent another video from Alora’s phone.)

(The video is of a herd of caribou walking on the other side of the river.)

Alora: Elisi said the herd goes through these parts this time of year, and the park was set up exclusively so they can migrate in peace. How cool is that?

Alora: I told her this, but this would be a prime target for trolls. If the living versions of these statues are hungry, I bet this is the first thing they’d go after.

Nadia: The video is lovely. Thank you.

Nadia: And I must disagree. These new trolls are roughly the size of possums. The caribou are one hundred times their size. It wouldn’t be feasible.

Alora: (sends several pictures in rapid succession. More statues along the river bank, in various poses, some broken up and a few in tact.)

Alora: A lot of these were found were grouped together. Probably pack hunters.

Nadia: A whole caribou seems to be a stretch. But not rabbits or mink or fish.

Alora: There’s plenty of fish, though. So much!

Alora: Also!

Alora: (sends a picture of a bear salmon hunting in the distance)

Nadia: Oh! Wow!

Alora: Elisi showed me a whole family that came out of hibernation last week. Two cubs! The cutest!

Nadia: Pictures?

Alora: Maybe tomorrow. Was more focused on mystery trolls.

Nadia: And your hunch?

Alora: Well, have you found any in Arcadia?

Nadia: No. And I haven’t seen my customer today.

Alora: Okay, keep keeping us posted. Want me to send more video of wildlife? This place is actually really nice.

Alora: Super remote. Clean, clear water. Lots of greenery now that the snow’s all melted.

Alora: It’s perfect for trolls.

Nadia: It does sound nice. Sure. If you find something worth taking a video of, I’d love to see.

Alora: Cool.

(Nadia to Elisi)

Nadia: Hi, good time?

Elisi: Sure. Find anything?

Nadia: No, I haven’t found anything.

Nadia: I’ve scoured through all of Heartstone Trollmarket’s libraries, resources and talked to everyone I can think of. No one’s heard of this kind of troll.

Nadia: Though, it might help if I tried to take the paint off this statue, but he worked so hard on it!

Elisi: Hmm... maybe if we went more local. The market in Anchorage might have something. Alora and I are going at sundown.

Elisi: There’s no way no one’s heard of these frograts before.

Nadia: !!!

Nadia: Did Alora tell you that name?

Elisi: Yeah, and it’s growing on me.

Elisi: Frograt.

Nadia: No!

Elisi: (laughing while crying emoji) I like the name, alright?!

Nadia: Ugh!

Elisi: Anyway, thanks for the update.

Nadia: Let me know if anything happens.

(Nadia is sent a video from Alora’s phone)

(They’re in a gyre tunnel, the gyre is knocked off it’s track to one side. Alora is pointing the camera on the phone down by her feet. There’s several dozen of the live trolls gathered around her, squeaking and shrieking in hunger. They all are covered in white, fuzzy fur that’s starting to turn brown, their rather small eyes give off eye shine as they look up at the phone, all are scurrying around like kittens pestering for a treat, when their mouths open there’s rows and rows of small teeth. Also in the frame is one of Elisi’s limp arms; Alora is carrying her unconscious sister on her back with one hand while filming with the other.)

Alora: Well, sis, there’s good news and bad news. First, good news. (points the camera down at the small trolls swarming around her and trying to climb up her leg) Here’s what the live ones look like. And sound like. I’d show you what they bite like, but I’ve got my hands full. And there’s... (she points the camera further down the tunnel, where there’s so much more eyeshine staring back at her) ...there’s probably hundreds of them down here. So.... there’s your references.

(There’s a loud screech just down the tunnel that lowers into a roar, but it’s so dark that the camera doesn’t pick it up. Alora starts walking backward. She can’t do anything about this situation with Elisi out for the count.)

Alora: And here comes the bad news... so I need to get out of here. So, um... I think these are all babies... (something starts to claw into view, bringing with it two large shining blue eyes and a low growl) ...and that’s mama. Hold on, I gotta send this...

(The video stops, but was successfully sent.)

(Nadia to Alora)

Nadia: ALORA!

Nadia: ALORA, PLEASE TELL ME YOU’RE OKAY!

Nadia: ALORA! PLEASE ANSWER!

(She tries calling the phone but it goes to voice mail)

[butteredonions]

I used to write a lot when I was younger, and I really want to get into it again! Do you have any advice for improving/coming up with ideas/staying motivated?

Ohhh you do ask the good questions, dear anon…

This got quite wordy (surprise, it’s me!), so I’ve tucked it beneath a readmore. I really wanted to make a joke about “let me peel back the layers of how I write for you”, but that felt a little….self-indulgent :)

Some Onion Writing Tips - Below the Readmore!

Some of these are cliche, sure, but honestly they really do work. Probably the biggest piece of advice I have is to take all of this with a grain of salt. Everyone’s advice is different, and what works for me might not work out for you. Experiment around with different tricks and habits and processes. You’ll find something that works if you stick with it.

Onion Writing Tips On: Improving

Onion Writing Tip #1: Do the thing.

Honestly, at the base and simple level: at some point you have to just sit down and do it. Writing is a honed skill like anything else. You don’t get better at playing the piano by wishing; you have to put in a few hours on your scales at least. You have to practice. There’s kind of a misconception out there that writing is Easy and Anyone can do it; maybe, but the folks who put in more time and practice are going to bring something a little different to the table. Dedication helps - but honestly so does just doing the thing.

Onion Writing Tip #2: Carve out a space where you can let that happen.

I am lucky enough in my life right now to have a dedicated space and a time where I’m able to say “I’m writing”, and the folks around me know that’s my time. I try and keep it around the same time every day. For me it’s at stupid-o-clock in the morning. For you it might be different. This is my time to shut the door, put on some music, pick up the mug of coffee and get some work done. The habit, honestly, really helps.

Onion Writing Tip #3: Give your first draft permission to absolutely suck.

A big part of improving is not only finding the time to practice, but giving yourself permission to get it wrong. Again with the musical analogies, you can��t hear what you’re doing wrong unless you try to play the piece. See where your baseline is. In the same vein, my first drafts are almost always really bad. They’re riddled with typos, with [bracketed words I don’t want to stop to look up right now], with [new planet names] and [name this character Lisa] and [feelings] and repetition and filter words absolutely everywhere. That’s okay. Nobody sees my first draft. It’s the second draft I can go in and add the emotions, the better analogies, fix the pacing, etc. I can’t do that unless the words are on the page in the first place. I can’t do that, unless I’ve got the words at least out so I can see where the problems are. I can’t do that, unless I’ve given myself permission to have the first draft suck. Otherwise I’ll just sit here, paralyzed, stuck on wishing and not on writing.

This goes hand-in hand with tip #4:

Onion Writing Tip #4: Don’t stop to edit while you’re writing.

Don’t stop to edit while you’re writing. 

You’ll get stuck on things you could fix, or things that aren’t working, and spend hours and hours fretting on how to fix them. Write your horrible first draft first, then fix it. Once the ideas are down on paper, however awful, however rough, you can fix them. You can’t fix the words if they’re still in your head.

Onion Writing Tip #5: Editing is not just for typos.

Editing is where I give myself permission to pick at exact word choice, or exact feeling or pacing. Have I used that same adjective already in the same paragraph? On the same page? Pick a different one. Are my filter words everywhere? Write them out. Searching for repetition is huge for me - not just with single words, but with ideas. Have I described clouds the same way in every single chapter? Maybe I should try a new angle. Do my characters always react the same way to a situation? Maybe I need to research some nonverbal body language a little more, or alter the situation so it’s less predictable to them and the reader. The rest…honestly, I trust my gut a whole lot on this. If it feels wrong to me, it’s going to feel wrong to the reader. If it’s not giving me a sucker-punch to the gut where I want it to, it’s not going to do that to the reader.

Onion Writing Tip #6: Retype.

On the second draft, and sometimes the third, I retype the entire first draft.

Every single time.

No exceptions.

This lets me do most of my editing as I go. It lets me find typos (and sometimes create new ones when I’m typing too fast); it lets me catch if I’ve used the same word, or if my paragraphs are all starting the same way - lots of things. Retyping it forces my brain to retravel the pathways I was on when I wrote the thing in the first place, and more often than not it absolutely helps me go deeper into character, setting - everything. For me this is the equivalent of speaking my writing out loud (to check for tone, flow, etc). I can’t recommend this method enough.

Does retyping the whole thing make a slower writer? Yes. Does all that editing make me a slower writer than some? Yes. But - like I said - grain of salt. This works for me. It doesn’t work for others. This is all about finding what works for you. Whatever helps you get the words out: do that. Get ‘em down. That’s really all that matters.

Onion’s Favorite Writing Tip, #7: Filter Words

Take them out. Take all of them out.

Filter words are anything you can fit a “to” in front of: to notice, to see, to feel, to think, to watch, to seem, to sound, to hear, to know. These slow down your writing by forcing a filter on your audience. We don’t need to know that “Hunk saw the grass was orange”. If Hunk’s the narrator, we the readers are fully aware we’re reading about what he’s observing. “The grass was orange” - that’s it. That’s all you need.

Sometimes you need to keep one, for character perspective or pacing. 95% of the time, honestly, you really don’t. I have a sticky note stuck at eye level with these filter words written on it. I have filter words in my first draft. I take them out when I edit.

Seriously.

The linked article explains it really well. I’m kind of passionate about this one, so feel free to ask if you have more questions. I could write a whole post.

Onion Writing Tips: On Coming Up With Ideas

This is probably one of the hardest things to put into words. Hopefully this helps a bit!

Onion Writing Tip #8: Don’t try to force yourself to come up with an idea.

My best ideas have come completely out of the stinking blue. If I’m stressing about it, the idea isn’t going to come. Never has. My ideas come to me when talking with friends; when I’m supposed to be sleeping; when I’m driving or in the shower. When I’m outside, or sometimes even doing something mundane at work like cleaning. I can’t predict when these ideas are going to happen. All I can really do is stay open to the knowledge that, at some point, they’re going to. And I’m ready to roll with them at least a little ways and see where they go.

Onion Writing Tip #9: Write everything down.

Everything. Once you have something in your head you really like, don’t take the chance it will be around later and you’ll remember it; if you’ve got it, write it down. Smartphones make it really easy these days to tap out a quick phrase of dialogue, or an image, whatever. Even if you never use it, it’s written down now and sometimes that can free your brain to keep thinking (rather than stress about having to retain it). No matter how small or how silly, keep track of it. Even if you don’t end up rolling with it just then, those ideas can form an Idea Bank you can pull from later on when you’re struggling or just want to write a little thing.

Onion Writing Tip #10: Talk about things you enjoy with other people who enjoy them, too!

At least 85% of my ideas come from talking with friends. We’ll be chatting about fandom or about characters - someone says ‘hey have you thought about this’ - and next thing you know the idea’s way more fleshed out than it was just by myself. Writing doesn’t have to be a solitary thing. It’s okay to reach out to others for a bit of inspiration.

Onion Writing Tip #11: Seriously, don’t sweat it.

You’ll know when you have a Good One. Something will feel different about that idea compared to others. Something about it won’t let you go. That’s the one you’re meant to write. That’s the story only you can tell. Trust me.

That’s not to say you need to Wait for the Good One before you can write. On the contrary - start somewhere! Try some little writing exercises to get the juices going. A quick google search will give you so many out there to choose from. Open your askbox for prompts - either generic, or pick from a prompt list. You might be surprised with what you get, and you very well might surprise yourself with where you go.

Onion Writing Tips: On Motivation

Onion Writing Tip #12: Find A Group Or A Friend To Write With

I can’t stress enough how vital this has been to my writing. Writing can be a super solitary field; you spend a lot of hours staring at a laptop or a notebook, working hard, by yourself. No one else can do your writing for you, right? The best thing you can do though is find other people doing their own writing too - and write together. My little writing group (the Thinktank!) has been so amazing for me in terms of staying on task and staying motivated. Usually every night one or another of us pops into chat and says “writes?” - and then whoever’s around sets a timer for 20 minutes and does the writing. Together. We compare word counts when we’re done, like it’s a little competition. If nothing else it keeps me working; most of the time it propels me to keep writing after that 20 minutes, too. It’s just about getting started. (And also it’s fun to have a great group of people helping each other stay semi-accountable with our projects. Support!)

Onion Writing Tip #13: ….deadlines

Set them. Stick to them. Try not to wait until the last minute for them, but honestly? sometimes that’s what you need. My very first longfic I told myself I had to finish by the time the school year was over. Another longfic came out of joining a Big Bang and sticking to that calendar. I’m scrambling now to get Smol Shiro done before season three (OR ELSE, good Lord). Weeks? Exchanges? This fandom is crazy blessed unique in that there are so. many. options for deadlines, framed in fun and engaging environments. If you can’t set one for yourself, try joining a group that’s already got one! A deadline can also be as simple as - oh hey season three is coming in a month, I really need this fic to be done before then. Or, I’m starting school mid-August, I need the serious writing to be done by that time. Whatever is in your life that you can hold yourself to for a writing deadline: do it.

Onion Writing Tip #14: Persevere

It is worth it.

Writing is hard work. It’s hard work more often than not. It’s frustrating, it’s upsetting, and sometimes there’s really nothing stopping you from giving up. when the words aren’t coming. when the ideas feel dumb. when you feel stranded and alone about something that used to excite you - something that isn’t working now. Sometimes it just feels like it would be easier to give up and let someone else write this story.

Here’s the thing.

No one else will.

Not the way you see it in your head. Not the way it grips at your chest. This story in your head won’t touch anyone else the way it touches you unless you write it.

The work is worth it.

You don’t have to show your work to anyone unless you want to. But sometimes - and my last piece of advice - sharing your work with people can be the biggest, stupidest, giddiest motivator for continuing to create art that exists on this silly little planet. 

It’s also single-handedly the most daunting thing about writing - but it too is so, so worth it. 

Share your work, when it’s ready. Draft it. Edit it. Get it out there. And keep going! It’s hard work, but if the story’s meant to be there - it’ll come.

[ratblazer]

Jimmy Sawbones Changes his Voice

This takes place during the time while Blitz and James were dating.  I make a hell of a lot of assumptions about the setting, the characters’ backstories, and their current situations.  Also I made James transgender which Beth said was fine.

For reference this is 3,865 words, or about 8 pages, and I can’t add a readmore.

Since he had nothing better to do on a rainy afternoon, Blitz drove to James’s apartment/office/laboratory, expecting him to be gleefully at work on today’s hapless victim.  But when he walked into the living/waiting/operating room, he saw the doctor himself lying on the table, gloves on, an array of mirrors hanging above his head, and a substantial amount of blood all over his neck.

“Jesus, Jim,” Blitz said, walking over.  It was a grisly scene - James had shaved the fur from the front of his neck, sliced open his windpipe, and removed several important-looking pieces of flesh.  His head was tilted uncomfortably far back and he was staring intently at a magnifying mirror over his head.

“And I thought you couldn’t get bugsier,” Blitz said.  “What the hell are you doing?”

Without moving his head from its awkward position, James smiled crookedly, held up one finger, then pointed over Blitz’s shoulder toward a tape recorder on his desk.

Blitz approached the desk and saw that the buttons on the recorder had been numbered in James’s handwriting.  He pressed button #1, and James’s voice sounded tinnily out of the device.

“If you’re listening to this, it means you’re extremely dense, because you just asked me a question when my larynx is in seven pieces, I can’t move my head, I’m breathing through a hole in my neck, and in short I have no possible way of answering you.  Lucky for you, I’m a genius, and I knew this would happen, so I programmed this machine with answers to your questions.  If your name is Blitz, thank you for dropping by, please help yourself to anything in the kitchen.  I got that wine you like, and there’s cucumber sandwiches in the fridge.”

The doctor’s voice took on such a different quality when he addressed Blitz - soft and sweet, almost rabbitlike.  Far removed from the bark and cackle he used with everyone else.

“If you’re anyone else, fuck off,” James’s voice continued, back to his usual harshness.  “And let me concentrate on my work.”

“So,” Blitz said, after realizing there was no more on the recording, “What are you doing?  What’s this operation about?”

Without looking away from the mirror, James snapped his fingers a few times, then held up two fingers, and pointed again at the recorder.  Blitz pressed the second button.

“After seven successful tests!” James’s recorded voice barked, “I’ve finally perfected my voice pitch adjustment technique!”

“Jimmy, your voice is beautiful!” Blitz said.  (His opinion was shared by few.)  “You don’t need to change it!”

James pointed at the recorder, which continued to play.

“If your name is Blitz, you’re thinking ‘but James is already the pinnacle of perfection!  Why would he change anything about himself?'  But trust me, I know what I’m doing.  When I’m done, once my neck adjusts to my new larynx and all the nerves have healed, my voice will sound the same except deeper, fuller, and sexier.  You’re gonna love it, I promise.  Have I ever been wrong about anything?”

“No,” Blitz conceded, smiling and approaching the table where James lay.  The doctor’s head lolled uncomfortably, and Blitz realized he must have numbed his neck somehow.  Was that safe?

“I’m worried about you, though.  Couldn’t you get another doctor to do this?”

James glared momentarily and indicated the third button on the recorder.

“If you’re listening to this,” James’s voice said after Blitz pressed the button, “You just asked me an extremely stupid question: Why don’t I just go to a real doctor?”

“I didn’t say that!” Blitz said.  James waved a dismissive hand.

“First of all I am a real doctor,” the recording continued.  “Second, real doctors cost an impressive amount of money I don’t have.  Third, real doctors consider voice masculinization an aesthetic operation and don’t perform it unless you’ve seen a psychiatrist, and my god."  He paused dramatically.  "Can you imagine?”

“Hey, you’re right,"  Blitz said with a chuckle.  "Of course you’re right - you’re always right.  You’re a genius.”

James smiled, and Blitz’s heart melted.  A genuine smile from James was depressingly rare.  A wicked smile, sure, that was nothing special.  Sadism was the doctor’s alma mater, and he was first in his class in the college of schadenfreude.  But to see him smile like this - open and unguarded - was like turning a corner on a dingy twilit street and seeing the full moon, huge and yellow on the horizon.  It was something you see and admire almost every night surpassing itself and looking absolutely breathtaking.

That was what Blitz thought, anyway.  Most other people couldn’t tell “happy Jim” from “rip-your-lungs-out Jim.”

“It’s true,” Blitz said, approaching the table and gently stroking one of James’s ears.  He lowered his voice as he leaned over the table.  “You’re so fucking clever, you know that?  You knew exactly what I would say when I came in here.  You knew I hadn’t had lunch yet!  You knew before I got up this morning.  You gotta be the smartest man in Europe.  Maybe in the world.”

James didn’t stop smiling, but he rolled his eyes at Blitz’s heavy-handedness as he attached a small, fleshy blob to his throat.

“Also the bugsiest,” Blitz murmured, his voice softer than a whisper.  James could only hear it because Blitz’s face was practically inside his ear.  The doctor’s ear twitched as Blitz kissed it gently and silently.

After enjoying this for a moment James snapped his fingers until Blitz took his face out of James’s ear and paid attention.  Carefully, so as not to drop his tools, he held up eight fingers, then pointed to the recorder.

Blitz reluctantly went back to the desk and pressed the eighth button.

“Blitz, darling, if you’re listening to this it means you’re flirting with me and I have to ask you to stop.  I know you want me, and I want you too!  But this is an extremely delicate operation, and if I botch it I may never be able to speak again.  You wouldn’t want that, would you?  I promise you I’ll be done by tonight.  I do wish you will stay, though.  I always appreciate your company.”

Blitz hung around for the next few hours, mostly to keep an eye on the doctor.  James’s recording said he could lose the ability to talk if anything went wrong, but Blitz was worried the doctor may lose the ability to breathe.  He drank some wine and ate some cucumber sandwiches, politely offering some to James, who said (via recording) that he could not eat or drink until the operation was finished.

Out of curiosity, Blitz played some of the other recordings.  Most were general, like if someone asked him how long it would take or how his voice would change.  There were a few “before and after” recordings from James’s test subjects, usually saying things like “I’m not going to say that!” and “Go fuck yourself, you long-eared son of a bitch!"  The subjects all sounded surprisingly masculine after the procedure.  Combined with James’s hormones, he might end up sounding completely different.

There was only one other recording addressed to a specific person:  "Mr. White, I apologize for my current indisposition, if you need me immediately I will put my neck back together as quickly as possible.  The anesthetic on my neck will wear off by 6 PM and depending on the state of things I may be able to talk or only whisper.  Please let me know exactly what you need and I’ll make sure I can take care of it.”

Blitz stopped it and glanced at James, who hadn’t paused his work.  It pained him to hear how differently he had to act when addressing Mr. White.  This was more than being polite - James would stop his operation, and possibly permanently disable himself, if the boss asked him to.  It would be wise, for sure, but it gave Blitz the heebie-jeebies.

“Hold on,” Blitz said, glancing up at the unusually hazy operating table.  “Are you smoking?”

Without looking at him, James grinned.  He was indeed smoking - bringing his red and black cigarette to the stoma in his neck, rather than to his mouth.

“You think that’s a good idea, Jim?”

James shrugged and tapped his head.  What did that mean?  Blitz waited for James to point to the recorder, but he did not.

“Oh,” he said, “No pre-recorded answer for this one?”

James gave him a look.

“Maybe I can come up with something,” Blitz said, and James rolled his eyes.  Blitz was a soft-spoken baritone from Queens, so it wasn’t easy for him to mimic James’s voice, but he gave it a shot anyway.

“Uhh, you must be some kinda retarded half-wit to ask me something like that,” he said, and James immediately lost control of himself.  The doctor couldn’t laugh properly, but his breaths came short and fast through his stoma, and his eyes were closed and his mouth open in a grin.

“If you were doing something as stressful as performing a self-laryndectomy,” (close, but not the correct word) “You’d need something to take the edge off, too.  This is extremely mentally taxing.  Plus, I smoke through this hole, I don’t get throat cancer, right?"  The doctor was beside himself as Blitz’s voice faded from his awful attempt at a British accent back to his native one.

"Anyway, where’d you get that?” Blitz asked, going back to his normal voice.  James reached over and drummed his fingers on a table containing a few dirty medical tools and a small black box containing what Blitz could only assume were cigarettes.  They were wrapped in black paper, and the filters were red and unusually soft to the touch.

Blitz lit one in the five-inch flame of his zippo, took a drag, and immediately started coughing.  James cracked up again, silently laughing through his stoma.

“The fuck is this?” Blitz said, looking at the box.  “'Marlboro extra-long bold rose-petal all-natural’ - natural my ass.  Is this even fucking tobacco?”

As James struggled to compose himself, Blitz noticed his throat looked more put-together than it had before.

“Are you almost done?” he asked.

James held up two fingers.  Blitz raised an eyebrow and looked at the recorder, then back to James as he snapped his fingers a few times.  He held up two fingers again, then tapped his wrist, where a watch would be.  Two hours.  Blitz could kill two more hours.

He pulled out a deck of cards and played solitaire, until he found himself so bored he’d started cheating at it.  The TV wasn’t much more interesting - nobody Blitz knew was in the news today.  What did James do when he was bored?  Blitz cast around, found a half-finished crossword puzzle, and took a stab at it.

James’s handwriting was just like him: chaotic, often difficult to understand, but still beautiful.  His character shone through even in the puzzle, how the ink flowed from one letter into the next, where James hadn’t lifted his pen off the page.  Blitz traced the strokes with his pencil, noting the patterns in how James had filled the answers out - whether he’d solved a clue all at once, or if he’d needed a few letters already in place before finding the answer.  He also noted a few ink drops on the page, although none obscured the answer grid or the clues.  It wasn’t that James never made mistakes, it was just if he did, it was about something that didn’t matter.

Blitz spent a good twenty minutes admiring how many things James knew, and how beautiful his handwriting was.  After penciling in a few guesses, he walked over to check that the doctor was still breathing.

“How you doing?” he said.  James’s neck was looking almost normal again - now he was just closing the stoma.

“You gonna be able to eat when you’re done?” Blitz asked.

James made a so-so gesture.

“How about some soup?”

James gave him a thumbs up.

“You mind if I poke around the kitchen?”

After James waved him on, Blitz went into the kitchen and poked around.  Practically every edible thing in here was Blitz’s doing, as before he’d met James, the doctor had subsisted entirely off of coriander and Marlboros.  It didn’t sit too well with Blitz, and he’d started channeling his grandmother in an effort to make James eat properly.

Blitz’s culinary talents didn’t extend much farther than the recipe on the back of the box, but he at least tried.  Left to his own devices, James would throw together cheap rice and reconstituted beans with an unholy amount of coriander and call it “food."  Not shocking for a man raised in England, but even the English ate, like, butter.  And cheese.  How James was still alive was a mystery.

Minestrone wasn’t right without beans, and even though James did own an unreasonable quantity of beans, he bought them dry to save money, and Blitz didn’t have time to soak them.  Blitz dug around the pantry behind various soups, canned tomatoes (score, he’d need those) and other stuff until he found a can of "fava” beans.  The fuck were fava beans?  Whatever, beans is beans.  He’d use these.

There were two bulbs of garlic that Blitz left here last time he cooked dinner, and one of them was encouragingly small, as if James had actually been eating it.  The other had sprouted, and James hadn’t touched it.  Blitz cut the sprouts out and chopped up a few cloves.  He could use a garlic press, but why throw away an excuse to use a bigass knife?  It was like using an electric stove when gas stoves existed.

He put all the vegetables together into what was shaping up to be a solid attempt at minestrone.  James didn’t have any pasta, so Blitz had substituted rice, which he hoped wouldn’t make too much of a difference.  There was no way James had fresh basil, but Blitz checked the fridge anyway.  He had parsley.  Better than nothing.

As Blitz chopped the parsley he realized it smelled wrong, because it wasn’t parsley.  It was cilantro, because of fucking course it was.  He rested his head in his hands and rubbed his temples for a moment and then decided to toss it in, since he’d already chopped it up.  James would probably like it.

Leaving the soup to bubble, he went to check on James.  The doctor was still lying on the operating table, but he’d turned off the bright lights, and was curled up on his side.  His neck was all stitched up.

“What’s up, Doc?” Blitz said, his brow furrowed.

James didn’t respond, but he looked at Blitz with a pathetic expression.

“You still numb?”

“No,” James whispered, his throat still, air barely passing through his mouth.  He looked really uncomfortable.

“Are you in pain?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you say something!”

“Because I can’t talk, idiot."  James climbed carefully off the table, leaning on Blitz’s shoulders for support, and ambled over to a cabinet.

"Is that morphine?” Blitz said as James pulled out an amber bottle and a syringe.  “You don’t need morphine.”

James shot him the sort of glare that makes you not want to argue, especially when the person is holding a sharp thing.

“Hey, whatever you say.  You’re the doc, Doc,” Blitz said as James injected himself.  “Soup’s probably ready.”

James winced.  Barely audible, he whispered, “After this kicks in.”

Blitz left to take the soup off the stove, and when he came back James was lying on the couch, his feet hanging off the edge.  Blitz sat down and put James’s head in his lap.  The doctor pressed his face into Blitz’s abdomen.

“You doing OK?” Blitz asked.

“I need a drink,” James whispered.  It was cute hearing him talk so uncharacteristically quietly, and it made Blitz lower his voice as well.

“I can get you some water.”

“No, you stupid idiot,” he said, still managing to sound properly vitriolic with the faintest of whispers, “I need a drink.”

“We can have the wine with dinner.  When’s the last time you ate?”

“Yesterday.”

“Fuckin hell, Jimmy.”

James grinned and closed his eyes.  Blitz could never tell with him.  When they’d first met, the doctor’s lifestyle had been unhealthy, but now he was practically reckless.  He suspected the doctor was doing it on purpose, maybe because James liked Blitz doting on him.  Maybe he wanted to see how far Blitz would go to save him from himself.  Or maybe James just liked holding someone’s prized possession up to a bonfire and watching them squirm as he threatened to toss it in, except in this case the prized possession was James himself.

Blitz distracted himself from these uneasy thoughts by rubbing James’s ears and watching the doctor’s expression melt into comfortable happiness.  He was under no delusions about James, but right now he looked like an angel.  It would make sense to hate life and other people as much as James did, if you were used to the perfect world of Heaven.  And angels would smoke fucking rose-petal cigarettes.

“You feeling better?”

James nodded.

“You wanna go eat dinner?”

James shook his head.

“Come on, let’s go eat dinner.”

James didn’t move.

“I’m gonna fuckin force-feed you that soup.  I know you got the equipment.”

With a dramatic sigh, James stood up and made his way to the kitchen.  Blitz poured the wine, dished them both up soup, and looked around for parmesan cheese.   He found only the block he’d left there last time he’d cooked dinner.  It had shrunk as well, although to his dismay, Blitz noticed it seemed to have been sliced, as if James had been eating it on sandwiches.  Shaking his head, he grated some onto the soup.

James sipped politely at his dinner, but his manners waned quickly, and eventually he pulled out one of his massive jars of coriander.  Blitz had a brother in the restaurant business and even he had never seen spices sold in such large containers.  The doctor didn’t fuck around with the shaker top, either, he just unscrewed the whole lid and poured the powder out like creamer into his coffee.

“You could at least, like, put it on a little at a time,” Blitz ventured.

“That’s what I’m doing,” James whispered.

“Can you even taste the soup, or does it just taste like coriander?”

“I can taste the soup.”

Blitz couldn’t really blame him, though.  The soup was pretty bland.  As he put some more salt on, he realized, “Fuck, I forgot to salt the pasta water.  Or, rice water, I guess.”

“That’s not the only thing wrong with it,” James whispered.  “How much garlic is in this?”

“Oh, three or four cloves.  Is it too much?”

“No, it’s fine, I’m not an infant.  But why do you use so much?”

Blitz shrugged.  “I like chopping it.  It’s supposed to have basil too but you didn’t have any.”

“Are these fava beans?” James whispered bemusedly.  His voice was getting louder, but it was all breath - there was no motion in his throat.

“Yeah.  It was all you had in a can.”

“Why do I have canned fava beans?”

“You don’t anymore.”

Blitz looked over at James’s soup.  The massive amount of coriander he’d put in it made it yellowish.

“Hey, lemmie try that,” he said, and James passed him the bowl.  Unsurprisingly, it tasted like nothing but coriander.  Blitz almost choked on it.  James almost choked laughing.

“Stop that,” James croaked, wincing in pain and speaking above a whisper for the first time, “You’re gonna kill me."  His voice sounded absolutely terrible, like a garden hose talking.  It was deep all right - deeper than any voice had a right to be.

"Jim!” Blitz said, standing up.  “Are you OK?”

James nodded, pressing a hand to his throat and taking slow, deep breaths.

“Maybe I shouldn’t be eating,” he whispered.

“Eat the damn soup!”

“Fine, fine, fine, fine, fine,” James said, before breathing deeply again.  He knew Blitz only raised his voice when he was serious.  “You would make a wonderful doctor, you know.  You have such a lovely bedside manner.”

“What’s up with your voice anyway?” Blitz said, ignoring him.  “You sound horrible.”

“It’ll pass.  Right now my vocal folds - my whole larynx is very loose.  As it heals everything will tighten up and I’ll sound normal.”

“How come you can’t talk now?”

“My vocal folds are still raw.  Speaking with my throat is extremely painful.”

“Even with the morphine?”

James nodded.  “The pain should stop by tomorrow - I just need to sleep on it.  My voice will solidify into its new permanent state by November.”

“And you ain’t gonna sound like a front loader anymore?”

“Oh, Blitz, I always thought you were sexually attracted to construction equipment.”

“Shut up and eat your soup,” Blitz said, but he smiled.  It might have just been because it was coming out of James, but there was something sexy about delivering sardonic insults in a hushed whisper.  It was like he was trying to hide something - like if he spoke any louder some cop would come in and tell him to quit eating soup with this white rabbit.

Blitz started whispering too.  The two of them had big enough ears and were sitting close enough together that they could carry on a conversation just fine.

“Wait,” James said after listening to Blitz whisper for a while.  He walked out of the kitchen, and came back with the tape recorder.  He set it to record and held the microphone up to Blitz’s lips.

“Whisper something,” he said.

“What should I whisper?"  Blitz had no idea what James was doing.

"Anything.”

“Uhh, my name is Blitz Valentino, I’m from Corona, Queens.  Uhh, New York City.  United States of America.  Earth.  What’s this all about, Jimmy?”

“My name is Blitz Valentino,” James repeated into the microphone.

“Your name isn’t Blitz Valentino.”

James gave him a look.  “Neither is yours.”

He played back the recording a few times, listening to both Blitz’s whispering and his own.  Over and over, he whispered “My name is Blitz Valentino” to himself, then played back the recording of Blitz saying it.  Every time he said it he put on a fake deep voice.  He must have been able to tell how doofy it sounded, because he kept cursing to himself when he played his own voice back.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Blitz said, gently taking James’s hands in his own.  “Babe, your voice sounds fine.”

“But why does it sound higher than yours?” James said, frustrated.  “We’re whispering.  We should sound the same!  If my voice still sounds high-pitched even without my vocal folds, then what was the fucking point in all this?"  He pointed to his throat.

"You’re gonna sound fine.  Some guys got deep voices, some guys got high voices.  I got brothers with higher voices than me.  I got brothers with higher voices than you.  I got a brother with only one ball, he’s got a higher voice than you.”

“I want to sound like you, though.”

“OK well, first thing is you gotta start dropping your R’s.”

[regionalatbest]

camping out for twenty one pilots: a guide

hi! i’ve camped out for six of the seven twenty one pilots shows i’ve been to (ironically the one I didn’t camp out for was the last one), totaling 160 hours spent camping. for my first time camping i was twentieth in line, and for my most recent one, in new york, i was first. being first in line, it fell to me to organize the entire line for that show, so it was a good opportunity to master the practice of lining up. i’ve camped for shows in wisconsin, ohio, new york, and even for their saturday night live performance. i don’t mean to state this in a boastful way- i’ve gotten a few asks about camping out and figured i would put this experience to good use in making a guide for it. if you want to prepare for an upcoming show, or understand the line at your past show better, give it a read. i incorporated all of my experiences, my friends’ experiences, and things i’ve seen online (through an objective scope) into this guide, because no two shows have been the same, in terms of lining up. for the most part, camping comes down to luck: luck with the venue. it’s explained in detail under the readmore.

how the lines work

twenty one pilots has become notorious for shows that cause fans to line up days in advance. an indicator of this i’ve noticed is that an increasing number of venues are issuing public policies on lining up, mostly through twitter. many venues outright ban camping, giving a set time to arrive the morning of the show– but this is hardly the end of the story. many fans set up an unofficial line to camp earlier then technically permitted, and number themselves to stay organized. this is usually done off venue property but close nearby, and is organized by the first people to arrive. check social media in the days before the show to see if the venue has issued a policy on camping, or if anyone has already arrived at the venue. an important thing to note is the venue’s entrances, particularly if you’re the very first person in line. almost all venues have a separate entrance that they use for GA, apart from the main entrance. oftentimes it’s on the side of the venue. knowing where to line up will make sure other people don’t show up at the proper entrance and claim to be ahead of you. experiences with the unofficial line practice have varied, and it largely depends on the venue’s attitude towards it. for this tour, the east dates have honored the unofficial line system, and even accommodated it, while many west dates have been an absolute mess. Anaheim, in particular, was a highly dramatized event when the line system was such an issue that a lead member of the band crew (Mehdi) reprimanded people just for camping out. it’s critical to maintain a good relationship with venue staff when trying to line up. they’re just doing their job, and if camping on their property is prohibited, they have to enforce that. the key is compromise. when you arrive, try to seek out venue staff to figure out the line situation. it’s a good idea to talk to security, ideally the head of security- anything you explain to him is taken into account and disseminated to the rest of the security staff; persuade the leader and the entire staff will follow. try to get the venue staff to honor the unofficial line if one exists, to ensure that it is first-come-first-serve. sometimes they are willing to help keep it organized when it comes time to bring the unofficial line into the official one, other times they flat out deny any responsibility for the line until the day of the show, which usually ends badly for campers when people who arrive later attempt to get ahead of them by sprinting to the front. in short, make sure everyone is on the same page: campers, venue staff, and new arrivals especially.

arrival time

to get barricade you have to show up the night before at least now (unless you plan on pushing, which is an awful thing to do). for some shows it’s even earlier. for the past two tours i’ve been camping out for two nights per show because I like being at the front of the line and I have friends that make camping the best experience ever. generally speaking, california lines up the earliest. i’ve heard reports of people lining up 4-5 days in advance, probably because it’s warmer and more populated there. less populated states/cities will go 1-2 nights before, and larger cities around 2-3 nights. do research. ask people who have been to shows in your area. the trend so far is that every tour, lines start earlier and earlier, because the band’s popularity has yet to shrink.

what to bring

bring stuff so you don’t freeze in winter or get heat stroke in summer, which is a very real risk. camp with someone, the more people in your group the better- makes it both easier and funner. never go anywhere alone, especially at night! many venues are in dangerous neighborhoods. for most people dehydration is a very real risk. most people think “it won’t happen to me” and end up getting dragged out of the pit, which invalidates all the time they put into camping out, so don’t risk it and drink your darn water. some people bring tents, but that can be a hassle. good idea for larger groups though. blankets/sleeping bags/pillows are smart. portable chargers, snacks, changes of clothes, games to pass the time. you will need a car or hotel room or friend’s place located near the venue to store your belongings come showtime. i prefer the hotel even at shows i drive to because hotels mean showers, a bathroom at night (which WILL be a problem you’ll have to solve when you get to the venue- most bathrooms are closed at night!), and a bed for naps (provided it’s okay with other people in line). if you do get a room, don’t spend the whole night in there! i can’t tell you how many times people have gotten upset that “campers” just spent the night in their hotel room instead of in line. it’s happened at practically every show i’ve been to.

getting in line

make friends with the people around you in line. every line will have hostile people, whether they’re right or not, and it’s good to have allies who will support you in any line disputes. before doing anything involving leaving the line for more than a few minutes, check with the people behind you! if they’re upset at you and bold enough, they might just make a move to take your place and kick you to the back. make sure they’re okay with you leaving and don’t do anything to provoke them. it’s important that friends/family know where you are and what you’re doing. they will be your emergency contacts and explaining where you are is a major hassle during an emergency. talk to the people in line to figure out the bathroom situation, for both day and night.

before the show

once doors open, you’ll be at the barricade within 120 seconds and you’ll have to stand there for the next 5 or 6 hours. prepare for that. take care of your hydration, meals, and bathroom needs before the show or it will hurt. before the show you’ll have to put all your camping supplies away, around an hour before doors (earlier if the venue staff wants you to, which they sometimes do to compress the line). getting in, you’ll have to go through security. make sure your pockets are empty and bags ready for search. don’t rush through security because that has an inverse effect, taking you longer. have your ticket ready to be scanned. in arenas, you’re given a wristband after this that will let you onto the GA floor. when you get down there, show your wristband to be let in. don’t sprint, especially when at the front, because it causes everyone behind to follow suit. you will trip over a cable or stairs or whatever. it has happened plenty of times before and will happen to you if you’re reckless, not to mention how venue staff hates running and will stop you, which slows you down even worse than if you were simply walking. a brisk walk is more than enough. when i was first in line, i was fortunate enough to walk calmly to center barricade, turn around, and see no one else in the arena yet. so don’t freak out about getting barricade. you’re up front, and you will get there.

i hope this was helpful to you in some way. any questions not covered here can be sent to my ask box. feel free to add on to this, just remember that what happened at your show didn’t happen at every other show, so try to be unbiased, factual, and informative. stay safe when camping, and have a good time!

[mrbronzeskull]

Lmao answer them all and good luck ;)

I’m reblogging this, sans readmore, as it was brought to my attention that for at least one person, everything under that just didn’t show up. I humbly beg forgiveness for putting such a huge chunk of text on everyones dash.Spacey, you cheeky sod. I swear this is like the second time you’ve done this. (I both love and hate you for it) Here we fucking go: THIS TOOK AN HOUR AND A HALF TO DO 

1. Who was the last person you held hands with?I don’t exactly get physical with folks so I have to assume it was my ex, several months ago.2. Are you outgoing or shy?Shy, Bi and ready to die3. Who are you looking forward to seeing?@gpumidnazora​, some day.4. Are you easy to get along with?I guess so? Not very argumentative, very quiet, tell bad jokes.5. If you were drunk would the person you like take care of you?I’d like to think so.6. What kind of people are you attracted to?All of them. More feminine aligned folks usually but super masc folks and androgynous peeps have totally taken my breath away too. Less general note, nerdy folk who I can obsess over something with. 7. Do you think you’ll be in a relationship two months from now?I mean, I’m in one now and while it does have a massive issue because of distance, I’d like to think we can tough it out.8. Who from the opposite gender is on your mind?My girlfriend.9. Does talking about sex make you uncomfortable?A little, I get flustered easily if im not super close with folks.10. Who was the last person you had a deep conversation with?Fuck, uh, myself? I often have super deep conversations that I should probably talk to a therapist or someone about just aloud to myself. But if that isnt an acceptable answer, @gpumidnazora​ takes the cake.11. What does the most recent text that you sent say?“Oh hell, I thought I said hi when I got home and was all like ‘huh, she hasn’t replied, guess she’s already asleep” after I goofed up on letting my gf know I got home on time.12. What are your 5 favorite songs right now?OH! I got one from just this morning! Let’s Face It I’m Cute by 11 Acorn Lane.Aside from that I’ve been all nostalgic lately so Mr Brightside by The KillersTeenage Dirtbag by WheatusGoodbye Stranger by SupertrampEverytime We Touch by Cascada13. Do you like it when people play with your hair?Yes. Please do. I’m a big sucker for this. Or any physical affection really. 14. Do you believe in luck and miracles?Miracles not so much but its real hard to not think of things as lucky or unlucky for me15. What good thing happened this summer?I got plenty of hours at work! 16. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again?Nope. No. Nuh. There’s two girls it might be and neither of those would be a good choice.17. Do you think there is life on other planets?I mean, it’s literally either that or we are completely alone in the entire universe. Which seems far more terrifying to me. So yeah. But I’m always thinking like microbial or basic life, rather than you know, aliens replete with UFOs and such.18. Do you still talk to your first crush?Nah, havent talked to her in years.19. Do you like bubble baths?I almost always shower, too big for the bath really.20. Do you like your neighbors?Fuck dude I dont even know my neighbours21. What are you bad habits?God, what isnt? Nail biting, snacking, bad sleep schedule, shower delays, then too long in the shower, generally messy22. Where would you like to travel?Canada, Tokyo, America, Brazil, Europe, New Zealand. Anywhere with snow23. Do you have trust issues?Yes? I’m not all that open. Until I am and it’s like BAM HERE’S MY ENTIRE LIFE STORY which is too much typically.24. Favorite part of your daily routine?Jerkin’ it just soooo right. Kidding. Mostly. Anytime cuddling my cat while catching up on Youtube videos is great.25. What part of your body are you most uncomfortable with?My back. just all of that. Beats out the chewed nails and the flab and the face any time.26. What do you do when you wake up?Regret27. Do you wish your skin was lighter or darker?Darker. But I’m such a shut in so that aint happening. Least it looks alright next to my paper white sister28. Who are you most comfortable around?Myself. Or my good friend Emily Mac, the @keepingitreluctant​ that you all know and love29. Have any of your ex’s told you they regret breaking up?One, and boy that was a fucking nightmare of a time.30. Do you ever want to get married?Not really? I mean, tax benefits are nice but I don’t care for it much.31. Is your hair long enough for a pony tail?Nah, or at least it’s the shittiest ponytail ever, though my hair is the longest it’s probably ever been.32. Which celebrities would you have a threesome with?I’d take a spin with pretty much anyone because dang most of them are hella good looking plus all that money you could earn through scandalous details afterwards. 33. Spell your name with your chin.zxzbnldyu. Perfect, nailed it. Funnily enough it’s pronounced ‘Ashley’34. Do you play sports? What sports?I played, emphasis on the ‘ed’, soccer (football) and tennis and fencing!35. Would you rather live without TV or music?TV, easy. I listen to music way more than I watch TV.36. Have you ever liked someone and never told them?Who hasn’t? Though I have an awful habit of fallin in love with folks when I see them if they catch my eye. All the time. Everyone just looks so dang good and cute.37. What do you say during awkward silences?I’m more of a creator of awkward silences than an ender. Yay for being bad at simple conversation.38. Describe your dream girl/guy?Aw jeez. I mean I’m tempted to earn brownie points by just describing my lovely girlfriend. But if I had to draw up an ideal, I guess just a real sweet cutie who’s down for cuddling and playing games, preferably nice and short, all adorable and fun sized! Short hair is a plus.39. What are your favorite stores to shop in?I don’t shop often. So I guess Robinsons bookshop, EB games and Zing? is that the name of that store filled with ‘nerdy’ junk that’s like partnered with EB?40. What do you want to do after high school?Fuck man I went through high school not knowing and I still have no idea41. Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance?I give so many second chances. Multiple.  But it does depend on the action. If you hurt me, no matter how much or how often, I’ll let it slide (possibly because I have 0 self respect) but if you fuck with my mates or are just a despicable person in general I will only give you a couple chances.42. If your being extremely quiet what does it mean?I’m almost always pretty quiet. but if i go silent mid conversation it probably means I’m trying to turn something that just got said into a really lame dad joke.43. Do you smile at strangers?yes and no. If I’m interacting with them or like they pass by and its only the two of us I’ll happily put on a (hopefully not creepy) smile but I won’t have a smile plastered on my face walking through a crowd.44. Trip to outer space or bottom of the ocean?Space. Definitely. 45. What makes you get out of bed in the morning?At the moment, the need to get to work46. What are you paranoid about?People finding out about the murders This and that, usual dark secrets.47. Have you ever been high?Yup and it was eh, I laughed at all sorts of junk but I got serious cottonmouth and had all sorts of gaps in my memory, even worse than normal which was scary.48. Have you ever been drunk?Plenty of times and I think I’m probably 50/50 on if i threw up or not.49. Have you done anything recently that you hope nobody finds out about?Recently? I did get Maccas for dinner and pretend that I wasnt hungry when I got home after a rough day at workLess recently I fucked up in a life changing way that no one else knows of and I don’t know what to do about that.50. What was the colour of the last hoodie you wore?Black51. Ever wished you were someone else?Again, who hasn’t? 52. One thing you wish you could change about yourself?Add a couple zeros to the end of my bank balance would be nice. But physically? Clean up my fucking back. 53. Favourite makeup brand?Afraid I really don’t know anything about any of them enough to make a judgement call. 54. Favourite store?Zing (im sticking with that name, fuck it) is fun to just chill in55. Favourite blog?God so many, you are all too great!56. Favourite colour?Turquoise 57. Favourite food?A good steak is hard to turn down58. Last thing you ate?Rice and mince.59. First thing you ate this morning?A caramel Up&Go to wash down some pills.60. Ever won a competition? For what?I’m more of a second place kinda person. Or was. It’s all been going downhill for a while in academic or sporting respect.61. Been suspended/expelled? For what?I almost got suspended/expelled after a particularly nasty and widespread tidbit rumour went around about me.62. Been arrested? For what?Nope.63. Ever been in love?I think so. I’m the kinda guy to say it pretty early. 64. Tell us the story of your first kiss?Uh, I took my girlfriend of the time out to a roller skating rink, I couldn’t skate for shit and I couldnt look her in the eyes without turning away and blushing. Let alone hold a conversation. But afterwards she was kind enough to deign to grant me a kiss in the parking lot.65. Are you hungry right now?Nope, I’m good.66. Do you like your tumblr friends more than your real friends?I talk to you guys just as much as them nowadays. But I would say I’m closer to them than anyone on tumblr, no offense. 67. Facebook or Twitter?Uh I have both but don’t use them.68. Twitter or Tumblr?Tumblr hands down, this is like my only social network platform69. Are you watching tv right now?Nope70. Names of your bestfriends?Emma, Emily, Hayley, Imogen, Lucinda, Ebony71. Craving something? What?Getting intimate with a guy, just accepting my bisexuality recently has kinda kicked that into overdrive. And now I’m blushin.72. What colour are your towels?We’ve got white, black and turquoise72. How many pillows do you sleep with?One73. Do you sleep with stuffed animals?Not in about 10 years.74. How many stuffed animals do you think you have?I wouldnt have a clue how many stuffed animals from when I was younger are still tucked away in the house75. Favourite animal?Meerkat.76. What colour is your underwear?Black77. Chocolate or Vanilla?Vanilla78. Favourite ice cream flavour?probably vanilla79. What colour shirt are you wearing?Black80. What colour pants?No pants!81. Favourite tv show?Brooklyn Nine Nine or Bojack Horseman82. Favourite movie?Iron Giant? Road to El Dorado? Spaceballs? Something nostalgic83. Mean Girls or Mean Girls 2?There’s a second?84. Mean Girls or 21 Jump Street?Mean Girls85. Favourite character from Mean Girls?Uh, fuck I dont remember the names. The lovely lesbian lass. She was great.86. Favourite character from Finding Nemo?Bruce.87. First person you talked to today?My girlfriend88. Last person you talked to today?Verballly, my mum, text wise, my girlfriend89. Name a person you hate?Donald Motherfuckign Trump, I mean hating trump is as common as breathing air as it should be but man he’s such a fucking disgusting cunt.90. Name a person you love?My parents.91. Is there anyone you want to punch in the face right now?God I have spent many an hour dreaming of socking Trump right in that bullshit spewing mouth92. In a fight with someone?Not currently. Or at least, the feud is still open and so old it isn’t a fight anymore.93. How many sweatpants do you have?Two?94. How many sweaters/hoodies do you have?Two?95. Last movie you watched?Moana 96. Favourite actress?Ellen Page is up there for sure97. Favourite actor?Chris Pratt98. Do you tan a lot?Ha, most of my body isnt aware what the sun is99. Have any pets?Boy do I. 2 cats and 5 dogs. 10 chooks.100. How are you feeling?A tad tired.101. Do you type fast?Pretty average 102. Do you regret anything from your past?HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA My memory is a whole lot of regrets floating in a void of forgotten moments.103. Can you spell well?W-E-L-L104. Do you miss anyone from your past?A past best friend of mine.105. Ever been to a bonfire party?I’ve hosted a couple and been invited to one106. Ever broken someone’s heart?I doubt it. Not exactly the type. (devastatingly good looking and/or callous)107. Have you ever been on a horse?Yup, wasn’t the thing for me108. What should you be doing?Sleeping?109. Is something irritating you right now?Well I’m now being inundated by regretful thoughts so that’s a bother.110. Have you ever liked someone so much it hurt?Nah. 111. Do you have trust issues?I feel like this was already asked. But yeah, I would say so.112. Who was the last person you cried in front of?I haven’t cried in literal years. I don’t have a clue.113. What was your childhood nickname?It’s always just been Ash114. Have you ever been out of your province/state?Yup, I’ve been all over the place115. Do you play the Wii?I have, but its been a hot minute116. Are you listening to music right now?Yeah, I had Let’s Face It I’m Cute up for the link and it just played a whole bunch of electroswing music on youtube, now on The Noisy Freaks by Freak Orchestra at least I think thats the name and band, I’ve never heard it before117. Do you like chicken noodle soup?sure118. Do you like Chinese food?Probably not my favorite, but it’s nice119. Favourite book?Too many man, way too many. 120. Are you afraid of the dark?Not really.121. Are you mean?I don’t think so. I’m a weak willed pushover and generally benign and quiet122. Is cheating ever okay?Ugh, it’s not exactly commendable but like anything, it’s all circumstance123. Can you keep white shoes clean?I have white runners, which remain clean by the virtue of me never exercising.124. Do you believe in love at first sight?Not actually, but like i said before I get infatuated on sight all the time.125. Do you believe in true love?Not really.126. Are you currently bored?Buddy, my existence is being bored.127. What makes you happy?my pets.128. Would you change your name?I wanted to change my name to Seth when I was younger after years of “ashley is a girls name’ 129. What your zodiac sign?L1BR4130. Do you like subway?Yeah. it’s normally pretty tasty.131. Your bestfriend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do?I mean, I’m currently dating and so is she so that would be a mess, but I doubt much would come of it.132. Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with?Ok im 90000% sure this was already asked.133. Favourite lyrics right now?“No matter what I conjure it could not help me deflect/ The angry death, of every hopeful thought/ that I might be a lover or a fighter…”134. Can you count to one million?I suppose I could. Like I have the capacity. But I’d get bored and give the fuck up without good reason to do so135. Dumbest lie you ever told?fuck me, I lie, alot, it’s my go to defense. Which is bad. but whatever. Probably the one where I skipped tennis training and claimed that I was going to extra french lessons instead, which was immediately called out by the French teacher.136. Do you sleep with your doors open or closed?Closed. keep the cat in and the dogs out137. How tall are you?175 ish cms, which is 5′10″ i think138. Curly or Straight hair?Straight, despite threats of it getting curly should  I let it get longer than a college cut.139. Brunette or Blonde?Wait is this asking preferences. fuck. Uh, Brunette? I’m not fussed by hair colour. though I’d probably avoid redheads just because my mum and one sister are redheads 140. Summer or Winter?WINTER141. Night or Day?Night142. Favourite month?October? it’s got my birthday!143. Are you a vegetarian?Nope144. Dark, milk or white chocolate?Milk145. Tea or Coffee?meh, not fussed either way146. Was today a good day?sure! I got to start work 2/3 hours later than normal after a fucking killer three days.147. Mars or Snickers?Mars? I dont eat a lot of either148. What’s your favourite quote?I dont really have one off-hand149. Do you believe in ghosts?not really.150. Get the closest book next to you, open it to page 42, what’s the first line on that page? “Captain Thomas Kelly, from the forty-sixth Precinct, said; ‘It looks accidental. Grant may have suspected that his familiarity with Damien place him above danger, but a hungry python does not quibble about such niceties’”I know its more than a line, but that’s a hilarious quote.