#i think one of my favorite parts of collage is ripping the paper | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lemondropdancer · 3 years

Text

Grounding Techniques

Mental Distraction Techniques

Pick a category of objects and try to think of as many objects as possible that fit within that category (e.g., types of dogs, cities, types of trees, crayon colors, sports)

Pick a letter and think of emotionally positive or neutral words that begin with that letter

Pick a color and look for things of that color. Notice differences in their exact shades

Say or think the alphabet backwards or alternate letters and numbers (A1, B2, C3, D4, etc)

Count backwards from 100 by 3s, 6s, or 7s or count up by prime numbers or perfect squares

Play "fizz-buzz" with yourself. Begin counting to 100 (or over!), but replace any number that contains the number 5 or is a multiple of 5 with the word "fizz" and any number that contains the number 7 or is a multiple of 7 with the word "buzz." For example, 1-15 would be "1, 2, 3, 4, fizz, 6, buzz, 8, 9, fizz, 11, 12, 13, buzz, fizz." When you mess up, compliment yourself and start over

Think of the words to your favorite song or poem or think of facts related to a specific theme

Pick a word or your name and see how many other words you can make from the letters in it

Describe an every day event or process in great detail, listing all of the steps in order and as thoroughly as possible (e.g., how to cook a meal, how to get from your house to your place of work or school, how to do your favorite dance)

Read something technical or meant for children or read words backwards to focus on the process of reading and not the words

Watch a children's television show or movie or watch cute or funny videos on Youtube; it might help to have a playlist already prepared for this

Look at a current news article that is not likely to be upsetting or distressing

Distract yourself with Tetris, Solitaire, Sudoku, word searches, or other puzzle games

Reorientation Techniques

Say or think to yourself: "My name is _________. I am safe right now. I am _____ years old. I am currently at _____________. The date is _____________. If I need help, I am with ________/can call _________. Everything is going to be alright."

List reaffirming statements ("I am fine. Everything is going to be okay. I am strong. I can handle this.")

Ask yourself where you are, what day of the week it is, what day of the month it is, what month it is, what year it is, what season it is, how old you are, and other present-focused questions

Notice things in your surroundings that indicate to you that you're safe or that you're in the present (e.g., locks on your door, electronics that didn't exist when you were younger, the presence of trusted people, a phone so that you can call for help if you need it)

Describe your surroundings in detail, including sights (objects, textures, shapes, colors), sounds, smells, and temperature

Name five things that you see, four that you feel, three that you hear, and two that you smell or taste, and then name one good thing that you like about yourself

Pick four or five brightly colored objects that are easily visible and move your focus between them. Be sure to vary the order of your gaze and concentrate briefly on each one before moving to the next

Think about a fun time that you recently had with a friend or call that friend and ask them to talk about it with you

Sensory-Based Grounding Techniques

Run cool or warm (but not too cold or hot) water over your hands or take a cool or warm bath or shower

Spritz your face (with eyes closed), neck, arms, and hands with a fine water mist

Spray yourself with your favorite perfume and focus on the scent

Feel the weight of your body in your chair or on the floor and the weight of your clothing on your skin

Touch and hold objects around you. Compare the feel, weight, temperature, textures, colors, and materials

Keep a small object with you to touch or play with when you get triggered. Good examples include a smooth stone, a fidget toy, jewelry, or a tiny plushy

Bite into a lemon, orange, or lime, suck on a sour or minty candy or an ice cube, chew cinnamon-flavored gum, or put a few drops of Tabasco sauce on your tongue. Notice the flavor, scent, and texture

Eat something or drink warm tea, coffee, or hot chocolate, and describe to yourself the taste and texture in great detail

Place a cool wash cloth on your face or hold something cold like a can of soda

Listen to soothing or familiar music. If possible, dance to it

Hum, sing, recite poetry, or make up a silly poem or story as you go

Pick up a book and read the first paragraph out loud

Hug another person (if interpersonal touch isn't a trigger). Pay attention to your own pressure and the physical sensations of doing so

Hug a tree! Register the smells of being outside, the wind, and the sights around you

Movement-Based Grounding Techniques

Breathe deeply and slowly and count your breaths

Grab tightly onto your chair or press your feet against the ground as firmly as you can

Rub your palms and clap your hands or wiggle your toes within your socks. Pay attention to the physical sensation of doing so

Stretch out your arms or legs, roll your head on your neck, or clench and unclench your fists

Stomp your feet, walk around, run, jump, ride a bike, do jumping jacks, or do yoga

While walking, notice each footstep and say to yourself "right" and "left" to correspond with the foot currently moving

Squeeze a pillow, stuffed animal, or ball

If you have a soft pet (dog or cat), brush its fur and stroke it. If you don't, brush your own hair slowly and without pulling too much

Color in an adult coloring book, finger paint, or draw anything that comes to mind without worrying about quality

Write whatever comes to mind even if it's nonsense. Try not to write about whatever is upsetting you until you're more capable of doing so without increasing the upset

Write a list of things that make you happy or look for cheerful pictures to make into a collage

Pop bubble wrap or blow and pop actual bubbles

Dig in the dirt or garden, jump on a pile of leaves, or splash around in puddles or mud

Rip up paper or stomp on aluminum cans to crush them

Imagery Techniques

Picture yourself breathing in relaxation, calm, positive feelings, or strength. Picture yourself breathing out whatever is upsetting you. It may help to pair this with imagery of breathing in soothing colors (usually blue, purple, or green) and out more intense colors (usually red or black)

If you need to relax, envision a soothing white or golden light slowly moving up your body, warming and relaxing every part of you that it touches. You can also think of it as protecting you from negativity or from harm

If the problem is intense or uncomfortable emotions, physical sensations, or memories, picture them being surrounded and neutralized by a bright and healing light, temporarily placed in a mental box to be stored for later, or dialed back by an internal controller of intensity

If you have a clear mental picture of what's upsetting you, mentally change it to something silly or harmless. If you're a fan of Harry Potter, cast a mental "riddikulus" to banish the negativity

Picture yourself calm, focused, and able to tackle whatever problems you're facing. Focus on how that would feel in the moment. What would your expression and posture be like? Make whatever changes you need to in order to make your reality reflect your goal

How to Make a Grounding Box

Get a box or basket

Personalize and decorate it with construction paper, wrapping paper, ribbon, stickers, drawings, paint, photographs, glitter, sequins, or anything else that you like

Keep within it:

A list of grounding techniques that you know work for you

A list of positive affirmations and happy memories

A list of the contact information of trusted friends or family who are willing to help and support you

Small sensory objects such as: scented candles, perfumes, or lotions; hard candies or gum; soft fabrics, a stress ball, a stuffed animal, or a fidget toy; happy pictures of you with friends; a CD with relaxing music or meditation tracks. Try to cover all of the senses

A list of possible distractions such as books to read or movies to watch

Small portable distractions such as a pack of playing cards, a small game, or a joke book

A list of comforting things to do such as taking a bubble bath, snuggling up in bed, or meditating

A small journal or notebook

In the Case of a Flashback

Tell yourself that you are having a flashback and are safe now

Remind yourself that the worst is over, and you survived it. What you're feeling now is just a reminder of that trauma and does not fit the present moment

Remind yourself of when and where you are, who you're currently with, and who you can contact if you need help (use the reorientation-focused grounding techniques)

Breathe deeply and slowly. Count your breathes and make sure that you're getting enough air

Use other mental, sensory, movement, and imagery techniques in order to distract yourself, calm yourself, and reorient yourself within the present

If possible or necessary, go somewhere where you can be alone or with a close friend, where you will feel safe, or where you feel protected or shielded

If there is anyone who you can trust or who will support you, reach out to them, let them know what happened, and let them know what you need, what would be best for you, or what they could do to help

Be gentle with yourself and take the time to really recover. If what helps you to recover is to color, take a bubble bath, hug a stuffed animal, or watch a children's movie and if it would not be disruptive to do such things at that point in time, embrace those options whole-heartedly

If possible, note or write down what triggered the flashback, what techniques you tried to use to disrupt the flashback, and what techniques helped

10K notes · View notes

whattodowithace · 3 years

Text

Open, for flowers (Chan)

Title: Open, for flowers

Pairing: Reader x Chan (A.C.E)

Genre: Fluff, flower shop AU

Word count: 3201

Writer: Kpopmadness (Ju)

“Chanie, wait for me!” A little girl screeches to her best friend as she runs frantically down the gravel road. Her ponytail swinging in the breeze behind her.

“I am waiting.” The little boy answers shortly, stopping mid run to wait for her small legs to catch up to him.

She huffs as she comes up beside him. “Where are we going?” She asks impatiently.

“My book says this time of year there’s special flowers blooming. I want to go see.”

Chan loved everything flowers and wildlife. He had a big book that he used to chart when certain flowers would bloom, how long they would keep, the list going on and on. He had a sketchbook that he carried with him everywhere. Inside were thousands of sketches of flowers he had found. Some he even kept dried and neatly pressed inside the sketchbook.

“You’re weird for a boy.” The little girl teases, nudging him with her shoulder.

Chan smiles at his best friend. “You don’t have to come with me you know. I know everyone thinks I’m weird. I won’t be sad if you think the same.”

The little girl looked at him. Her eyes holding some sadness and hurt at his suggestion. “I like going with you, Yuchan.” The little girl answered truthfully, masking Chans eyes widen in surprise.

“Besides,” she adds. “You’re nicer to me than the other boys. Donghun pulls my ponytail all the time.” She rubbed her head as if she could feel his hand tugging at her hair. Making her head sore.

Chan lets out a giggle. “That’s just his way of saying he likes you.” He reassures. His smile turning his eyes turn into crescents, making her smile back.

The little girl suddenly gasps in excitement, making Chan take a step back. “Maybe when we grow up we can open a shop together, Chanie!” She squeals. “Just for your flowers!”

Chan tilts his head to the side, her suggestion new to him. “I never thought about doing that.” He admits.

“I think you should do it.” She encourages. “And I’ll help you.”

That summer day on that gravel road with the warm air circling around the two children was a pivotal point in their young lives. They just didn’t realize how much of one it was.

“Yuchan!” I call into the small shop. The sweet scent of flowers greeting me as i enter. The smell making me feel like i was home.

A full head of blonde hair peaks behind a door to my right, a smile on his face. “Hi love.” Chan greets warmly.

I smile at my best friend. “Hey. Have you been busy today?”

Chan wipes his hands that were smeared with potting soil off on his apron as he says, “Not too bad. But i am ready for your help if that’s what you’re asking.” He says with a sly wink.

I laugh and set my bag down on a free chair by the door. “Can i go freshen up upstairs?”

Chan nods quickly as he turns his attention to a row of cactuses lining the store window. His eyes catching a certain gleam to them that they always did when he was working in his element.

I rush upstairs to the loft where Chan lived after store hours. The old building was one Chan had been saving up for since he was eight years old. The downstairs portion was his own flower shop, the upstairs was his apartment. A small loft with a large window overlooking the town and letting gentle rays of sunlight spark across the small space.

I smile happily. I loved this place. Chan bought it right out of high school. He let me have a job with him here once it became established. I worked part time throwing papers in the early mornings, and then in the afternoon i worked with Chan. Although many nights i ended up going upstairs with him to watch our favorite movies and play games with the guys.

I change my shirt from a long sleeve to a short sleeve. The spring air getting warmer everyday. I swoop my hair back into a ponytail before tying on my apron and heading downstairs to help Chan work and arrange flower decorations and take any orders we might have had.

My foot hits the last step when i feel a hard tug on my ponytail, making me screech in more annoyance than pain.

“Would you stop doing that, you brat!” I yell at Donghun. Who wears an evil smirk on his face as he stares down at me.

“Nope. I’ve done it since we were kids and I’m going to keep doing it.” He tells me with a sly wink. His dark puppy eyes shining.

I pinch his arm before shoving past him to go behind the checkout counter with Chan. Who greeted me with a warm smile as he handed me a freshly potted cactus to place behind the window for display.

I head to the large window but quickly stop when i see the man leaning over one of the cactuses, his hand hovering over the spikes that covered the succulent.

“Seyoon, what on earth do you think you’re doing? You’re going to hurt yourself.” I scold him, pushing him away from the cactus before he did damage to himself or said plant.

“I wanted to see how sharp it was.” Seyoon whines, his bottom lip pouting.

“I also dared him to touch it.” Donghun adds in.

“I had no say in it.” Jun chimes in. I hadn’t seen him come in earlier.

“But we did think it would be fun to see if he would actually do it.” Byeongkwan adds, who was standing next to Donghun.

“We just didn’t think he would actually do it.” Donghun chuckles as he shakes his head. A crooked grin lining his face.

An older woman with silver hair walks into the store about then. The doors bell ringing as she opens and closes the door.

“If you aren’t going to help us then leave you guys.” Chan hisses. “Before you destroy my shop.”

I give the boys pointed looks, agreeing with Chan. In the end Byeongkwan and Jun stayed to help us. While Seyoon and Donghun ran off somewhere else.

But before they left Donghun was sure to give my ponytail a final tug, making me kick his shin as he scurried out. Seyoon was thoughtful enough to hug me before they left. But he always did that.

Me and Chan worked together feverishly until the sun started dipping into the horizon. Its rays and warmth fading from the streets. Jun and Byeongkwan left, leaving me and Chan to balance the checkbook and clean up for the next day.

I sat at a bar stool carefully arranging a set of red roses for display when Chan came down the stairs from his loft. Two hot cups of coco in his hands as he made his way to me.

He sat on the stool beside me as we drank our coco in silence. Our legs tired from constantly walking all day long.

But my mind wouldn’t settle down. A nagging subject i had been delaying bringing up to Chan tying my stomach in tight knots.

I set the mug of hot chocolate down carefully before taking a deep breath. “Chan?”

“Yeah, love?” Chan answers me. Not really meeting my eyes as he picks dead leaves off a chrysanthemum.

“Mom and daddy want me to go to collage soon.” I tell him bluntly. This makes Chan stop and face me. His big brown eyes going sad. But he remains quiet and patiently waits for me to finish.

“They say i cant spend all my life with newspapers and flowers.” I choke out, trying not to cry. “Daddy wants me to go to med school this fall. He says he wants me to follow in his footsteps.”

My father was the top leading brain surgeon in the US. His name well known to many and his heroic acts publicized on many social media platforms. My mother ran a fashion business. I was never much into clothes. That much showed from my jeans with rips in them and a plain T-shirt. I only ever wore one sweatshirt. And it was one Chan gave me while we were in high school. I wore it nearly everyday. Which she hated. It was too repetitive. She had scolded many times.

“Is that what you want?” Chan asks quietly. His voice unbearably low.

“I don’t know.” I sigh, hiding my face in my hands. Tears threatening to fall down my cheeks. “I do like the world of medicine.” I admit.

Chan nods, “You were always really good at identifying certain herbs that would help with illnesses when we were younger. While I was just good at naming different types of flowers.”

I let out a soft chuckle and shake my head at the memory. “But I don’t know that’s what i want to do.” I tell him, meeting his eyes. “But just for once, i would like for my parents to be proud of me.”

Chan gives me a small smile before standing up from his chair and wrapping his arms around my shoulders, his chest pressing into my back as he rested his chin on top of my head.

“You should do whatever makes you happy, love.” Chan whispers. “You know i would miss you horribly if you decide to move away to a big collage. The shop wouldn’t be the same without you. But i also want you to know that I’m proud of you. Even if your parents aren’t. I’ll support whatever decision you decide to make.”

I feel my chest tighten and tears burn my eyes. My admiration for Chan swelling at hearing his kind words.

I place my hand over his arm as he continues to hold me tightly. “Thank you, Chanie. Really.”

“Anytime, love.” Chan whispers, squeezing me tightly. “And besides,” he adds, “We have all summer before we need to worry.”

````

The days got longer and warmer as time dragged on. The shop was always at its busiest time during the summer months. New types of flowers and plants were imported in to sell, drawing people to buy them. Sometimes even in mass quantity.

I tried to ignore the pressing issue of collage and possibly having to move away. The very thought making me sad immediately.

Chan worked almost nonstop during the summer months. He loved this time of year. His skin would become a dark shade of brown from standing outside the shop tending to the flowers that preferred being outside. His hair going blonde from all the sun it was receiving.

But the summer breeze brought a lot of change with it. One afternoon i sat at the counter deep in thought. A sinking feeling plaguing me.

Chan walked in from outside, a large cement pot in his arms. He set it down gently before taking in my dream state.

“Are you lost, love?” Chan asks with a chuckle. A smile tugging at his lips.

I smile and let out a sigh. “Do you realize i have never had a boyfriend before, Yuchan?” I blurt out.

Chan blinks at me, his eyes wide. “Umm...”

“I mean,” I continue, not noticing him tense. “I went through high school with no love life whatsoever. And now I’m faced with maybe going off to collage this fall and i have no idea what it feels like to kiss someone or even be in love.”

Chan hesitates, his jaw slack. “Maybe...maybe you just haven’t found the right person.” He stutters. Trying to keep the tightness out of his voice.

I give him a wistful look. “I know half the boys in this town, Chan. The right man is taking his sweet time coming my way.”

Chan shifts his weight nervously. “Maybe... you.. I mean. Maybe you should wait?” He says quietly. His voice so low i can barely hear him.

“What do you mean wait?” I ask.

“I mean just wait until you know if you’re going to collage or not before thinking about having a boyfriend.” He answers. His voice holding a certain clipped tone to it i had never heard before. His ears a bright red against his tan skin.

“Are you okay?” I decide to ask. Genuinely worried about him.

Chan stares at me. Holding my gaze for much longer than needed. Making my heart pick up its pace.

Chan picks up the cement pot against before grumbling, “Just forget it .” And storming off. Leaving me feeling confused and not any calmer.

````

Rain beats heavily against the shops windows. Thunder rumbling across the sky with lightening streaks occasionally lighting up the night sky.

I rush into the store, my hair and clothes soaking wet from the heavy rain. I see Chan cleaning up the shop, a mop in hand as he takes in my appearance with a smirk.

“Is it raining?” He asks sarcastically.

I give him a glare as i pull my wet hair off my neck, a shiver going down my spine.

“I came to see if you needed help bringing some of the flowers in. The storm is only supposed to get worse as the night goes on.”

“I’m okay, love.” Chan reassures. “I brought all the plants in earlier today. I’m sorry, i should have called and told you to stay inside.”

I shake my head, dismissing his apology. “I needed to get away from home anyway. You were my excuse.”

“Well then help me mop the floors and shine up this place.” Chan tells me as he hands me a dust rag.

I smile at him as i start cleaning. Both of us getting lost in easy conversation as the storm continues to rage outside. Rain attacking the windows as we work together.

Eventually, after a moments lapse in the conversation i decide to ask. “Chan, did i say something wrong the other day? When i said i wanted a boyfriend?”

Chan freezes, his shoulders going tight. “Umm.. n.. no”

He stutters. His ears going a bright shade of red.

I give him a quizzical look. Not believing him. “Chan, be honest with me. Please? Did i or did i not upset you the other day?”

Chan lets out a heavy sigh, running a calloused hand across the back of his neck. He slowly turns to face me as he admits, “I just... I don’t understand why you want a boyfriend so bad all of a sudden. There’s only two months of summer left and you decide to worry about how you’ve never been kissed before.”

“I want to know.” I say defensively. “If I’m going to be confined to studying for the next few years i want to experience things that other people have.”

“But... does it have to be with someone you hardly know? And why worry about it? It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Chan counters, trying to keep his voice calm.

“Because it means a lot to me. And i want to feel like I’m loved and appreciated by at least someone since i hardly get that from my parents.”

Chan stares at me wide eyed. He scoffs and rubs his eyes, a soft growl escaping his lips. “You just want to feel loved?” He repeats.

“Yeah.” I answer, my voice a little shaky.

“Then what have i been to you all these years?!” Chan shouts, making me jump.

Chan slowly closes the gap between us as he continues, “I have patiently listened to you, let you cry on my shoulder, let you work with me, shared meals with you, everything! What did you think that all meant?”

“Chan, calm down.” I say shakily. Taking a step back but my legs hit a table behind me, stopping me.

“No.” Chan snaps. “I’ve been patient for years. Never once interfering with your life. But all those times you stayed with me to watch movies and would fall asleep on my shoulder, all the times we would talk about how to make this place better, talk about our future, share secrets together, that all made me fall more in love with you.”

I feel my entire body freeze. I stare at Chan wide eyed, his eyes full of tears. Suddenly i feel stupid for never having seen it before.

Chan looks down at the ground, his hands going into fists beside him. “You talk of not knowing what to do with your life. About no one loving you and no one seeing you or caring what you think. But i have always cared, and I always will. But the only future I can see having is one with you in it.”

I feel tears sting my eyes from both joy and just feeling dumb for never having noticed my best friend in that way before. I quickly move forward and wrap my arms around his neck, encasing him in a tight embrace.

Chan freezes for a moment, his arms not going around my waist. His muscles tight as i hold him close to me.

“I should have known.” I tell him, my voice breaking. “I’m so stupid. You’re right. About everything.”

Chan takes my face in his hands, our faces inches apart. “You mean, you feel the same way?” He asks me in disbelief.

I let out a choked laugh, “Chanie, there is no one i would rather fall in love with more than you.”

Chans lips split into a huge smile before he closes the gap between us. The feel of his lips on mine making me tense slightly before relaxing and wrapping my arms around his neck to pull him close to me.

I smile into the kiss, getting lost in his touch and the way his lips taste and feel on mine. I feel my body go limp slightly when he runs his tongue across mine, his hands sliding up my back to pull me closer to him until there was no room between us.

I let out a gasp as he picks me up slightly to set me on the table behind me. One hand resting on my thigh as the other hand stays at the back of my neck, keeping me close to him.

His lips slide over mine softly, both of us just enjoying the feeling of being so close. I pull away from him slowly, resting my forehead against his as he breathes heavily against my lips.

“Does this mean you’ll stay?” Chan whispers, his voice raspy.

I smile and kiss his nose gently. “I’m staying with you.” I answer him, making him smile as he leans in to kiss my mouth again.

Eventually, i slide off the table. Chans face a bright red as we continue cleaning the rest of the shop before going upstairs to his loft. Where we end up talking half the night before i fall asleep on his chest while watching movies. Our limbs tangled together tightly as we bask in the warmth and feeling of security we brought each other. Our new relationship starting a new chapter for the both of us.

#a.c.e #ace chan x reader #ace chan #ace yuchan #a.c.e chan #a.c.e yuchan #a.c.e imagine #a.c.e fanfcition #ace #a.c.e x reader #ace fanfiction #fanfiction #kpop fanfiction #kpop #kpop x reader #kpop imagines #ace imagines #kpop fluff #kpopmadness writings

12 notes · View notes

bluewavenewwave · 3 years

Text

Can I get this off my chest? Back in 2016-2017 I was a sophomore in high school, I was taking a government class in school, and it was the 2016 election. My family has always been very conservative, and I’d always just gone along with it, but I was never actively into politics. Because of the election and my government class, I got really invested into politics. Blindly following my family’s politics, I supported Trump, started obsessively watching conservative YouTube videos, and exclusively watched Fox News. I would get home from school, get on the computer and watch about 4-5 hours everyday of videos from people like Paul Joseph Watson, Candace Owens, Ben Shapiro, Milo Yiannopolis, Mark Dice, Steven Crowder, Students for Life, and Live Action. And then we’d all watch (either baseball or) Fox News during dinner and before going to bed. I was literally obsessed with being conservative. I became extremely pro-life and anti-abortion, even though I was very pro-choice in middle school and freshman year. Never in my life have I ever wanted children, or really even liked kids. But to add substance to my pro-life stance, I pretended I wanted children, and told people I wanted to have kids when I was older, even though I knew I didn’t. I’ve been an atheist (and anti-theist) since I was six, but because I was so determined to be a good conservative, I started reciting the “under god” line during the pledge of allegiance in school for a few days, even though I never had before. I even tried to convince myself that maybe I could follow some form of religion. I believed in aliens, why not god? That didn’t last for more than a few hours, but I was so obsessed with trying to fit in as a conservative, I was willing to try anything. For the end of the year essay in government class, I wrote about the “popularity of the conservative movement” (yikes). My life literally revolved around politics and my entire identity was conservative. I was completely brainwashed and I didn’t know it. The thing is, in middle school and freshman year, I lived for music and celebrity/Hollywood news, and I spent most of my time fangirling over my favorite artists. My life was music. Then in 2016 none of my favorite artists were putting out new music/content, and I just got bored and looked for something else to obsess over. And I chose politics.

My life in middle school and freshman year revolved around music. It may seem a bit pathetic, but my entire life revolved around One Direction and Taylor Swift. My life had structure based around the routine music and content I’d get from them. Every year I’d get a One Direction album in November, and every other year (on the even numbered years) in October or November, I’d get a Taylor Swift album, and every year there was at least one tour. And then in 2016 there was no One Direction tour and no Taylor Swift tour. November 2016 was the first year in a long time there was no new One Direction album. 2016 was also the first even numbered year in her career that Taylor hadn’t put out a new album. It was November 2016, my structure was gone, I was bored, and I had no new music to obsess over. But there was an election. And thus my new obsession began.

In middle school and freshman year I never truly identified politically one way or another, but I knew deep down I was liberal. I just would never admit it out loud to anyone because of how conservative my parents were and how much they always said they hated liberals. But in middle school and freshman year, I was liberal, I was a feminist, I was pro-choice, pro-environment, and pro-LGBT. The only politics I ever cared about or got involved in were LGBT issues. I would write LGBT essays for school, or even just for myself. I’ve known I was bi since I was 10, and LGBT issues have always been my #1 political focus, even when I thought I was conservative.

I didn’t switch to conservatism until November 2016. I even said to myself at the time “I know one day I’ll be liberal again”. In reality, I always was liberal, I was just desperately trying to convince myself and everyone around me that I was conservative.

It got really bad in 2017. I spent the entire year watching conservative YouTube videos and Fox News. I think I watched so much conservative content because I was trying to make sure the brainwashing stuck. I think deep down I always subconsciously knew that I didn’t agree, but when all you consume all day everyday is conservative views, you’re going to convince yourself you do agree. I convinced myself I was conservative, I convinced myself I didn’t really care about the environment, I convinced myself I was pro-life, I convinced myself that I wasn’t a feminist, I convinced myself that I was panphobic and transphobic. I brainwashed myself completely and I still hate myself for it. I had a daily journal notebook and almost everyday in 2017 I would write something about politics, or Trump, or the videos I would watch. I think I was trying to write it down as much as possible to try to convince myself it’s what I believed. I was brainwashed but I was still trying to subconsciously fight the side of me that knew those weren’t my true beliefs. Maybe it was because I knew my parents had a habit of going through my things and reading my journals and I wanted to convince them I was conservative.

For my birthday in 2017 in November I got Harry Styles’ debut album, Niall Horan’s “Flicker”, and Taylor Swift’s “reputation”. And I got really back into my fandoms. In 2018 I made a One Direction/Taylor Swift fan account on Twitter, and I was constantly getting content from all my favorite artists. Harry, Taylor, and Niall had tours, and Liam and Louis were putting out singles.

In 2018 I still considered myself to be conservative, but every time I’d watch a conservative YouTube video I realized, and admitted to myself, I wasn’t agreeing with any of it. Every time I’d try to watch a video or Fox News, I’d be rolling my eyes and disagreeing. So I stopped altogether. I completely ignored politics, I stopped watching political YouTube videos and politicized news. I spent most of my time being involved in my fandoms online or watching baseball.

In senior year (2018-2019) I became pro-choice again, and a feminist again. Part of me felt like I was lifting a horrible weight off of myself, and another part of me felt like I was admitting defeat. I’ve always been stubborn, and after two years of being brainwashed into believing I was conservative and hated liberals, it was hard to admit that I myself was in fact liberal. So I held onto the panphobia and transphobia. For a brief period of time in 2019 I was a pro-LGB panphobic bisexual terf (and yeah I hate myself for that, too). I had my beliefs but I never got involved in politics. Senior year in English I wrote my essay on LGBT issues and rights, and I don’t think I would’ve done that junior or sophomore year. During the summer of 2019, I watched MTV’s “Are You The One?” season 8 (fluid season) and it all just clicked. It was literally overnight. I stopped being panphobic. I stopped being transphobic. I stopped being a terf. My sudden switch back to liberal views really does prove to me that I always was liberally minded, and once I stopped trying to brainwash myself into thinking I was conservative, I was able to truly admit it to myself.

I never posted my conservative “beliefs” anywhere online or told them to anyone at school, or left hate comments anywhere or discriminated against anyone. They were just thoughts in my head, and occasionally in my journals.

I wanted to post this because I’ve spent the last year or so trying to desperately erase all evidence that I ever identified conservatively. I scratched out/covered up all my political journal entries from when I was conservative, tore up and recycled all my old school papers where I’d mentioned I was conservative, and painted over some conservative quotes/names/references on a collage my sister gave me for Christmas (that one I feel bad about, but I couldn’t bare to see those things represent me anymore). I even ripped out journal entries where I reflected on overcoming being conservative, and how I feel so much better believing in and supporting what’s right (or, well, left… get it?). I wrote that the highlight of my decade was becoming liberal again, supporting communities I’d turned my back on, and becoming a better person. I ripped out and threw those pages away because I wanted to forget I ever thought I was conservative. I want to stop pretending it never happened, acknowledge my faults and mistakes, and recognize my growth. Because I’m proud of that growth.

I wanted to create this blog to focus on politics in a healthy way, and share ideas that help people, rather than hurt them. This is not a liberal blog run by someone who has only known liberal politics and grew up in a liberal household. This is a liberal blog run by a liberal who grew up surrounded by conservative politics and has spent time analyzing both sets of views, both sides. This is a liberal blog run by someone who knows just how bad conservative brainwashing can be, someone who experienced it first hand. This is a liberal blog run by a liberal who wants to stand up for what’s right.

#do you think i need therapy?#mine #my post #bluewavenewwave

3 notes · View notes

adhdzagreus · 4 years

Note

Concilliabule virgil sanders :0

Virgil Sanders + A secret meeting of people who are hatching a plot

“Okay, good, you’re both here,” Virgil said, eyeing Roman and Logan. They both nodded, Roman frowning in confusion at having been called to the meeting without explanation.

“We are,” Logan said. “Would now be an opportune time to ask why we have been called here?”

“In a minute. First, what’s Patton doing?” Virgil said.

“He is watching those videos of small animals on YouTube.”

“Okay, great,” said Virgil. “That should buy us at least an hour.”

“Why do we need any hour without Patton?” Roman said, pouting. “Is someone going to explain what’s going on?”

“Because it won’t be a surprise if Patton is here when we plan it,” Virgil said impatiently.

“But what are we planning?” Roman cried in frustration.

Virgil sighed. “If you’d been paying attention, you would know that tomorrow is Patton’s birthday.”

“By birthday, you of course mean the anniversary of the first time he appeared in a video, yes?” said Logan. “Because as metaphysical human beings, we have no date of birth as we were not born in the traditional sense through delivery or cesarean section.”

Virgil looked at him. “Yeah. Obviously.”

Logan adjusted his glasses. “It never hurts to be precise.”

“Oh, I get it!” said Roman. “You want to plan a surprise for Patton’s birthday! Why didn’t you just say so?”

“I was getting to it!” Virgil huffed. “But yeah, I want to do something for Patton’s birthday to show him that we, you know, appreciate him and stuff…”

“Virgil!” Roman said, holding a hand to his chest. “That is actually a very good idea!”

“You don’t have to sound so surprised…”

“I concur with Roman. It is a good idea. This seems a good opportunity to show our appreciation for Patton,” Logan said.

“Really?” said Virgil, narrowing his eyes. “You agree with me?”

“Of course,” said Logan. “I am not above a little frivolity for the sake of teambuilding.”

“That’s uh, a weird way of putting it, but yeah, sure.”

Roman’s eyes were lit with excitement. “What did you have in mind, Virgil?”

Virgil’s eyes widened at being directly addressed, and he shrunk into his hoodie. “I dunno… You know I’m no good at this happy, fun, touchy-feely stuff. That’s why I asked you here.”

“Well, fun times are my speciality,” said Roman. “You came to the right place.”

“Then why have you called me here?” said Logan. “You know I’m no more inclined to the, as you put it, ‘touchy-feely stuff’ than you are.”

“Yeah, I know, but you’re part of Patton’s uh, f-family too so…” Virgil looked away. Family was Patton’s word to describe the relationship the four of them had. He didn’t know if that’s how he would’ve put it, but it was a nice thought. Patton was full of nice thoughts, unlike Virgil whose thoughts ran more on the dark and gloomy side. Despite this, or maybe because of it, Virgil couldn’t help but love Patton, and while Virgil was terrible at showing such things, he felt it was important that they did something to show Patton how much they appreciated him.

But all of this was too complicated to explain so he just said. “I thought you would want to be included.”

Logan nodded. “I appreciate that. Thank you.”

“Yeah… No problem. Anyway.” Virgil cleared his throat. “Roman, do you have any ideas for what we can do to celebrate?”

“Oh, do I!” said Roman. “What about we throw a grand ball in his honor and invite lords, ladies, and nonbinary nobles from all across the land?” He gave an expansive sweep of his hand.

“That sounds extremely impractical to plan at the last minute. Also impossible,” said Logan.

“Don’t you think Patton would want something more, I dunno, relaxed?” Virgil said.

“Alright, Patton probably would prefer a more intimate get-together,” Roman conceded. “What about a family movie night? He can pick the movie, and I’ll summon some puppies for him to play with.”

Logan nodded. “This scenario includes all of Patton’s favorite things. I approve.”

Virgil frowned thoughtfully. “It’s missing something. Something to show we really care.”

“Well, traditionally, gifts are given on birthdays to show affection to the person being celebrated,” Logan said.

“Perfect,” Virgil said, pointing at Logan. “We should all give Patton something tomorrow.”

“Very well,” said Roman. “I suppose I can whip something up in time.”

“Okay, good,” said Virgil. “Then it’s settled.”

The others nodded and parted ways. Virgil went to his room to start planning his gift.

xxx

“Oh, you guys!” Patton gushed. “You didn’t have to do all this for me!”

“This is true,” said Logan. “We did not have to do this.”

“And yet we did it anyway!” Roman declared. “As a token of our affection for you!”

“What they’re trying to say,” Virgil said, “is that, yeah, we didn’t have to do this, but we wanted to, to show we care about you.”

Patton beamed, holding a hand to his chest. “You guys are so sweet. Thanks so much for this!”

“Well, there is one more thing,” Logan said, summoning a package from his room and handing it to Patton.

“You got me something?” Patton gasped in delight.

“We all did,” Virgil said, clearing his throat. “Uh, here’s mine.” He handed Patton a thin square package wrapped in silver paper.

“And mine,” Roman said gallantly, holding out his own parcel wrapped in gold and blue.

“Oh, where do I start?” Patton fluttered, shining like the sun with delight. Then before any of them could answer, he said, “I’ll start with Logan’s since he gave it to me first.”

Patton tore open Logan’s gift enthusiastically. It turned out to contain, unsurprisingly, a book, but Patton gasped in delight anyway. “Oh, it’s about cats! I love it, Logan!”

Logan nodded with satisfaction. “As you show such enthusiasm for cats, I thought it might interest you to learn something of their history. Did you know that cats were domesticated as early as 7500 BC according to some archaeologists?”

“Wow! Really?” said Patton, wide-eyed at the prospect of ancient cats.

“Yes, yes, that’s fascinating. Open mine next!” said Roman excitedly.

“Okay!” said Patton. He tore into Roman’s beautifully wrapped package and pulled something free. “Oh, Roman, I love this movie!”

“I thought so! It’s all, you know, feelings and stuff. And you did cry like a very small child the first time Thomas saw it,” Roman said. “Also it’s bluray!”

Virgil squinted at the movie, trying to make out the title: Inside Out. He winced. Yeah, exiting the theatre after watching that film had been rough.

“Okay, I’m opening Virgil’s now,” Patton said, smiling.

Virgil startled. “Uh, you know what, it’s not very good. It’s okay if you don’t like it,” he stammered.

Patton looked at him. “Shush your face. I’m sure I’ll love it.”

Virgil worried his lip and nodded as Patton ripped the silver wrapping paper off of the gift he had gotten him. Patton gasped when he saw it, but that didn’t mean much. Patton was delighted by everything.

Virgil watched Patton’s face closely as the side examined the gift, a large black photo collage frame. Virgil had spent most of last night looking for photos and deliberating over which ones to put in and where, and he was as happy with it as he was going to get.

In the upper left was a photo of Logan, caught in a rare moment of contentment, sitting on the couch in the living room with a mystery novel. Below that was a picture of Roman, grinning directly at the camera, his arms raised in triumph at some unknown victory. In the lower right was a picture of Thomas, smiling happily with his tongue slightly sticking out. Above that was the photo Virgil had struggled with the most. He didn’t allow himself to be photographed often, and he always looked terrible in photos anyway. Finally, he’d settled on the only photo of himself he liked. It was a selfie he’d taken with Patton in an attempt to show him how to use social media. He had his arm around Patton, who was beaming, and the camera had gone off just as Virgil had started to laugh at something Patton had said, catching him in the beginning of a smile as he looked at Patton.

In the center of the frame was the largest of the five photographs. It showed the four of them together with Patton in the middle looking ecstatic about something.

Patton took in all of this in a few quick glances, his expression changing from excitement to warmth as he did so. “Oh, kiddo!” he beamed, putting his hand over his mouth and looking at Virgil. “I love it! C’mere!”

Virgil blinked at him and slowly went over to where Patton was seated on the couch. He felt even more surprised when the other side crushed him in a hug, and when he realized what this must mean, he felt relieved. “Oh, you like it,” he mumbled. “Good.”

“It’s perfect,” Patton said, releasing him, still beaming. “After all, we all know that the best gift of all is time spent with family, and this is a beautiful reminder of all the good times we’ve had.”

“Uh, yeah, sure, I guess,” Virgil said. “Pretty sappy, but I guess that’s true.”

“Well,” said Logan. “If that’s everything, I declare these festivities to have been a success, and I bid you all good night.”

“Later, Logan.”

He disappeared, and Roman soon followed him, leaving Virgil and Patton who smiled.

“I didn’t expect you guys to do anything,” he said. “Whose idea was it?”

“Well, uh, we all kind of...contributed to it, but I was the one who called everyone together for it…” Virgil said.

“Aw, so this was your idea?” Patton said.

“I mean, I guess…”

Patton stood up, clutching his gifts to his chest. “That was very sweet of you,” he said, all pure affection and gentle smiles. “Thanks, Virgil.”

“Uh, no problem.”

Then Patton bid him good night and left, leaving Virgil feeling soft and warm and gooey, like the inside of a s’more.

#i made an attempt #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #lamp #moxiety #panic at the everywhere #virgil sanders #prompt fill #luxmyth

20 notes · View notes

jaceyneedsabetterusername · 6 years

Text

Peter Parker’s Birthday Would Include...

Warnings: Just really badly written whatever this is (I can’t remember what this kind of fic is called for some reason). But I’ve only written one and I have a hard time writing in fragmented thoughts but I thought it would work better this way. Okay sorry you can read the story now.

Feedback is greatly appreciated!

· You went over to Peter’s house early in the morning (think like 6:30 am) to help Aunt May surprise him.

· You two had been secretly conspiring for weeks and had everything planned out.

· You guys slaved over making him breakfast: chocolate chip pancakes, bacon, eggs, fruit, the whole shebang.

· Of course, you had to be quiet because Peter was sleeping.

· But of course something had to go wrong because why would things go 100% smooth?

· Long story short, the pan Aunt May was cooking pancakes on got knocked off the burner and clanked super loud on the ground.

· You and May froze and stared at Peter’s door.

· You didn’t hear him get up or anything so he must not have heard?

· Right?

· No. He totally heard.

· This boy’s spidey senses were going off the second he sensed someone else in his home at 6:30 in the morning.

· But he wasn’t going to say anything.

· 8:00 rolls around and you put the finishing touches on the “Happy Birthday” banner hanging over the window.

· Aunt May snuck into his room to wake him up, saying she had a surprise.

· Peter tried so hard to act like he had no idea.

· He walked out and

· SURPRISE

· There were his two favorite girls sitting with big ole grins

· And a stack of chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream, sprinkles, and a few candles on top.

· “Oh my gosh! Thank you so much!”

· Ned eventually came over around 8:30 because he was NOT waking up at 6 o’clock to make breakfast.

· After breakfast, everyone broke out the gifts.

· Aunt May gave him a book on technology that Peter had been drooling over for months.

· Ned gave him a box of Star Wars Legos that had a ridiculous amount of parts.

· You’d put a lot of thought into Peter’s gift.

· Aunt May had helped you put it together.

· Honestly, you were scared that maybe it was a little too sensitive but there was no going back now.

· Peter ripped open the Christmas wrapping paper (it was all you could find) and his face dropped when he saw your gift.

· Oh gosh, you screwed up.

· You and Aunt May watched his reaction carefully while Ned was just curious as to what it was.

· Slowly, he pulled out the picture frame and looked at the collage of photos inside.

· His lips suddenly turned upwards into a big genuine smile.

· “What is it?” Ned asked.

· Peter showed him the collage full of pictures of him, his parents, Aunt May, Uncle Ben, Ned, and you.

· Right in the middle was a photo of him with his parents.

· Everyone sat in silence and you couldn’t deny that you were nervous

· “I love it.” He said quietly but very clearly thankful, “Thank you.”

· “Happy Birthday, Peter.” You told him.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker one shot #peter parker drabbles #spider-man: homecoming #spiderman #spiderman imagine #spiderman drabble #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland birthday #peter parker birthday

161 notes · View notes

acehotel · 5 years

Text

“Nonsense don’t pay my bills”: An Interview with Creativity Explored Artist Vincent Jackson

To put it frankly, Vincent Jackson is “here to change lives, not here to change nonsense.” The Creativity Explored artist has been with the San Francisco-based studio and gallery — which highlights the work of artists with developmental disabilities — for nearly 20 years, bringing unity to his community every step of the way. Here, he chats with LAND Gallery’s Sophia Cosmadopoulos, as part of our monthly artists’ series called Inside Job, about his upcoming show Five and Two Others (curated by Mildred Howard), selling his art like hotcakes and knowing the destiny of what he does.

LAND Gallery is a nonprofit art studio celebrating and supporting the work of adults living with intellectual disabilities.

Vincent Jackson: Let’s get started.

Sophia Cosmadopoulos: Let’s! Would you begin by introducing yourself? VJ: My name is Vincent Jackson. I have been here for a long time. And, I love working here at Creativity Explored. I have accomplished my thing of being a renowned artist and I have worked with people putting my things on their products. I worked with developers when they did low income housing for people and they wanted my work inside their new building. So, therefore, it doesn’t matter to me, as long as people will like what I do. See, I know I brought power to this place. And see, some of them don’t get it. I have gotten it already. I have been on KBLX, I know the station manager of KBLX. Yeah, I know her and she knows me. So, therefore, I have talked up about this program on that radio program. Paul went down there with me and it was a wonderful experience. But, I would love to do it again because I think I brought a lot of power into this program, into this community. It’s because everybody knows who I am, even little kids know who I am if they walk in here. So basically, it’s all about me pushing. I push myself. And like I said, I really brought magic to this program. And I have introduced myself to people that are graphic artists, whoever came in my path. A lot of people have bought my work and they think it’s good.

SC: What an introduction! I love your work, can you tell me more about it?

VJ: My artwork is... I think it’s unique and it says something. It says a whole lot. It says a whole lot. Basically I am well-known for my faces. I have done pastels and I have sold them like hotcakes. I’ve done all kinds of media. I’ve done collage, tissue paper, drawings on wood with black ink. I’ve done a lot of things inside this studio. Basically I’m here to change lives with whatever I do. Well basically I have done big paintings, I have done wood sculpture. I am a renowned artist, I don’t take it lightly, I take it strongly, and if they don’t like it, get somewhere and hush! Those old folks say, “Get somewhere and hush!”

SC: And what are some of your favorite projects you have worked on?

VJ: I have excelled with CB2 stores, they used to look at my work and put things on there. I did a bag, I did a lot of things with business people. And like I said, I am not a pushy artist. I present the stuff, if you don’t like it, that’s okay with me. But I’m not gonna let nobody change my ideas when I wanna do something inside of here. Nobody. It’s just that, I feel that I deserve respect in here for being a renowned artist. I think I deserve it because I’m always doing stuff. I’m always doing stuff to make my money and leave it be. I have been in a lot of newspapers, I have been on Channel 9, I have been on a lot of stuff. So therefore, I know that what I do is very important to me. I don’t have time for no joking. And I know a lot of people have bought my work. And actually I have people that come in here and buy things over and over again.

SC: You have returning customers? VJ: Yeah. And people have had my work in their house since the 60s and the 80s and the 90s so it doesn’t matter what you put together. If you know it’s something, that’s okay. Never mind what. I know my work has been all over the world. But basically, I think I am sort of like an art psychologist. We’re here to change lives, we’re not here to change nonsense. Nonsense don’t pay my bills. You know, of course it doesn’t. And I don’t have time for their nitpicking. Look, I know what I’m about. And a lot of people have exhibited my stuff in galleries and I’ve had my stuff in high-class galleries here in San Francisco. You know, most of my buyers have become my friends. If they move away, they’ll come back. What I’m just saying, it’s not about how you put stuff together. It’s about how you see things. And you know, jealousy is not in my blood. You know, if they don’t like it, they don’t have to like it. I figured that if it’s important to you, it’s okay.

SC: Can you talk about the inspiration for your artwork?

VJ: Well, the inspiration for my artwork just comes automatically. You know, if they see me do something, they say, “Go ahead, Vincent, do it. Have a fit!” And I tell ‘em, “Uh huh, I’m gonna have a fit.” But, it behooves me that I know what I’m about. I’m not about anything else, but just that. See, you know, I have done a lot of things on all kinds of stuff. And people have bought it. See, it’s from the book. It’s not from the computer. I don’t go to the computer. It’s because the computer ain’t for me. I think when you have a thought patterning, you create something because you wanted to create it, not because they don’t like it. And like I said, if a person come in and see that painting up there for $750 and wants to buy it, they can have it. See, I don’t hold on to my art. Uh uh, I don’t hold on to it.

SC: Do you feel good when it sells? VJ: Yeah. I feel good that, you know, when I make my money here, it’s all about me making my money. And what do I do with it? They don’t care. And basically, I feel that if you’re going to be a creative person and a confident artist, you just have to stick to that. And because, I don’t let nobody in here tell me my stuff ain’t worth it. Because people have bought silly things outta here of mine.

SC: Really, ha! Like what? VJ: Whatever it is. But, it’s just that I think I have brought unity to this community.

SC: You think so? VJ: I know so. It’s not because of this, it’s not because of that. I have worked with fabric before. But I do it in my own way. I don’t copy off of nothing. It’s because, copying is not good for me. And I feel that what I do and sell, it goes. If someone from another country comes in and says, “Ooh, we’ve seen your work in somebody else’s house.” I go, “Okay.” But basically, I know that I have worked hard to get where I have gotten. And I am not gonna listen to all the roo-ha and ti-ha and all that in here. And it’s because that’s not what it’s about. See, I don’t let them think they’re better than me. I have to tell ‘em, “No, no, let’s chop that up right now.” You just have to do what you do. Do you. And leave me alone. Because I don’t have time for your blah blah blah, blah blah blah. I know better. And basically, it’s all about me knowing my destiny of what I do. And I have had people come and have done exhibits in their spaces of my stuff down through the years and I feel that’s acceptable. And these teachers, I like to buy ‘em little gifts because they’ve done so much with me. It’s all about perseverance. And I have done a lot of that. I am gonna continue to do that. I ain’t gonna let nothing turn me around. And it ain’t about what you think, it’s about what I think. Because, you know, I don’t mind stepping on a few toes in here, I don’t mind stepping on some toes. But basically, I just tell it like it is. If you don’t like it, you think about it. And like I say, I do what I want with it. And if I feel like I wanna do something else, I do it. But basically, this is a high-class art school to me.

SC: Yes, I agree, Creativity Explored is one of my favorite studios. Can you describe the program a bit? VJ: It’s not one of them rinky-dink ones Downtown where they rip you off, and tell you they’re gonna place you in an art job. Oh no, back it up. It’s time for me to change some things. And I know it’s good for me to get up, to get ideas from the teachers. And, it’s okay for me to cut a piece of paper and draw on top of it and make a shape and then think about what Imma do with it. So basically, I am a self-motivated artist. I basically think about what Imma do, and then do it. And if I don’t want to do it, leave it alone. Because they give us options to do when they present something to us.

SC: How long have you been coming to this studio? VJ: A long time.

SC: Yes. You were here when I first volunteered in 2005. VJ: Yeah, because see, I’m about 60, I’m gonna be telling on myself, that’s okay. But I will be 90 my next birthday. SC: What? You don’t look 90.

VJ: 70.

SC: You’re gonna be 70? No way!

VJ: I’m 60. Of course. Child! Child, don’t inch my age. But anyway, like I say, it’s all about perseverance. People have donated a lot of fabric, a lot of this, and then they’ll put it in front of me, and I say, “Ooh I know what Imma do with this.” And I start doing it.

SC: Can you tell me about your upcoming show “Five and Two Others” curated by Mildred Howard? Are you excited to be showing your work?

VJ: It’s going to be an exciting show I think. It’s gonna be two other artists from across the Bay, and plus five other artists from here. I think the Mildred Howard show is gonna be a beautiful show. I’m very excited about being in it. She took her time to come and select some of this art. I’m excited about this show. I feel that it will be a rude awakening for this community and everybody that went to art school. This is what I’m about. We’re here to change lives. I’m looking forward to having this show with her. If you can’t pull out your wallet, keep it in there and go!

SC: Amazing Vincent, thank you so much for this interview!

#yes #ace hotel new york #ace hotel #creativity explored #sophia cosmadopoulos #ace hotel nyc #interview #artist #art #ace

9 notes · View notes

shingeki-this-kyojin · 6 years

Photo

Happy Holidays! Have some of my Modern Collage AU!

Pairing: Springles (Sasha Blouse x Connie Springer)

Rating: G (General Audiences)

World: Modern/Collage AU

enjoy!

It was only 5:49pm and it was already pitch black outside. The wonders of Winter. Sasha stared out the kitchen window aimlessly; watching the snow fall, gazing at passersby walking down the side walk, peering up when she spotted headlights, but quickly leaned back onto the windowsill again when she could see the vehicle and that it wasn’t the one she was looking for. She played with the band around her wrist, and then switched to play with her hair that she had taken down to shower earlier that day.

She was waiting for Connie to get back to their shared dorm home. They rented it with their giant group of friends, seeing as it could fit all of them snugly with the absurd number of rooms and space held within. It was nice having a big house to goof around in and a bunch of cool people to hang out with. It was rare that no one was home, so you were guaranteed to having someone there to bug.

Lost in thought a bit, Sasha barely noticed the headlights in the driveway go off, but the change was enough to have her sit fully up from her lean and smoosh her face up against the chilly glass to get a better look. When she saw the figure digging out bags from the trunk, she knew it was Connie that had come back. More than half the house had gone out somewhere, and the other half were either decorating, or sick, or taking care of the sick.

Sasha broke into a mad sprint to the front door, swinging it open with ease. She started making her way down the walkway. After locking his car, Connie looked up at the form approaching him.

“Hey Sash! It’s freezing out here, go back in, I’m good!” he called with a big smile adoring his face.

She ignored him and continued to make her way forward. Once reaching him, she smiled brightly.

“Gimme half! I can at least help a little!” She demanded in a jolly tone.

Seeing as Marcel and Ymir were sick, Sasha opted to make them some nice soup while Connie left to shop for a few things. She felt bad not accompanying him, but the look of delight on Marcel’s face and the wonky, but genuine smile on Ymirs face with the soup offering was more than worth it. That and Porco thanking her as well in such a heartfelt way. It was nice and then funny when Pieck pointed out how sappy he looked so he retreated back into the living-room (stomped back, more like it) to continue decorating.

Connie relented and gave her about half the bags to which she happily took them, taking big strides back to the house, leaving Connie’s warnings of slowing down and not slipping as well as his comment on how he’d be in the house by now on deaf ears.

Once inside, they were greeted with Porco yelling to “close the damn door” and Pieck welcoming Connie back from the living-room. Connie greeted them both back as he knocked his boot against the outside trim before making his way in. He kicked his boots off, like Sasha did, and dropped his half of the bags off onto the counter. Sasha was already unloading them and placing food into the fridge or freezer or cupboard or wherever they needed to go.

“Ohh! Thanks for the measuring stuff, Reiner still couldn’t find that spoon set that he swore he had. Plus we really needed some big measuring cups.” She exclaimed. Connie grinned back at her in response as he unloaded the bags before him. Placing the bags of chips in the counter top, Connie peered over to Sasha who had collected a number of things and was lining them up on the island.

“Wait, you wanna make the cookies now?” he asked, eyeing up all the ingredients needed for Gingerbread.

“YES! This is what I’ve been waiting for!” She exclaimed, overjoyed.

This was her favorite part of the holidays, making deserts, but especially making Gingerbread cookies. She still couldn’t drive a vehicle herself and had to rely on others taking her out or getting stuff for her, but seeing as everyone was so busy this time of year, she hadn’t been able to go and get all the baking supplies she needed this year. It had her feeling mildly depressed, so when Connie finally asked what she needed that morning, she teared up.

“Okay, okay! Wash your hands and we’ll get started.” He lamented.

She nodded, turning to the sink, before she stopped to tie her hair up into a high pony tale. Connie took this time to wash his hands, and when she began to wash hers, he noticed how much the sweater she wore hung off her shoulders.

“Soooooo, what happened to the sweater?” He asked.

She snorted and started drying her hands.

“I stretched it out a bit too much to make it comfy.” She began, a big grin on her face, ”And then I washed it and the hole was even bigger, so now I gotta go out and buy Bert a new one altogether.”

A lot of them decided to dig into Bertholdt’s sweater collection and steal whatever fit, which, everything fit everyone and then some. Bert didn’t pay any mind, he thought it was cute and happily allowed the sweaters to be borrowed. Key word is: Borrow. So Sasha very much did need to buy the guy a new sweater, but she knew Bert wouldn’t really care much, he’d appreciate her going out of her way to get him a new one.

“So where do we start?” Connie spoke. He’d never made Gingerbread himself, only bought the pre-made stuff at the store to decorate. Sasha looked up at him, a gleam in her eyes and a giant smile on her lips.

She began taking him through the steps: dry mix, wet ingredients, mixing, rolling, all with excitement. At his question as to why she had a sad look about her at points, she told him it was something she and her Grandma would do every Holiday season. She loved it so much and it was always her favorite thing, spending time with her Grandma. She didn’t say much after that and Connie viewed her with understanding. He wouldn’t push what didn’t need to be pushed.

“Well, if you want, we can make this a yearly thing between us.” He started, causing Sasha to stop and look up at him. He folded the dough again and pressed down. “You can teach me, just like your Grandmother taught you, and we can make these every single year!” He finished, grinning and looking to her. She gave a sweet smile back to him and nodded.

“I’d love that, Connie.”

After cutting out all the cookies into people and filling the trays, Sasha popped them into the pre-heated oven where it would take a time before they were done. The two washed their hands again.

“It feels so oo-y goo-y, but it’s kinda cool after a while.” He spoke, a bit grossed out at how the remnants of dough fell from his fingers in little gloops while under the water. It was kinda nasty, but it reminded him of silly puddy and just being a little kid in general.

“You’ll get used to it. Over time, you start to love it and can’t wait for it.” Sasha spoke, obviously remembering over time how she felt about folding the dough.

“Thick doughs feel a lot different from thin ones and wet ones, those are sticky and get EVERYWHERE.” She laughed.

“Yeesh, maybe we can work our way up to that then.” He said in response, wincing a bit.

“Yes, of course!” She agreed.

They started cleaning up after turning some music on to get them into the mood. Cleaning was never the fun part, but it had to be done. They moved around each other seamlessly, almost dancing. When they’d bump into each other they would laugh and giggle quick apologies, before going back into the rhythm. It didn’t take to long to scrub the islands counter and throw away the tiny pieces that didn’t make it and were too small to do anything with, even together. They hand washed the bowls and measuring cups and spoons and utensils, and through idle chatter they found the cookies to be done.

Sasha took them out wearing her oven mitts and put the trays onto the stove top to cool off.

“Kay, so now we get the frosting and stuff ready to decorate!” She began, gathering up the various coloured frostings from the counter to place onto the island.

“Should we use some paper towel or something so we don’t have to clean much again?” Connie interjected.

The strawberry brunette shook her head, yes, and grabbed something from one of the pull-out drawers.

“Parchment paper.” She spoke. “It’ll keep everything clean as we decorate. When we finish a cookie we can just put it back onto the trays for now, since the icing would then need time to set.”

She ripped some of the paper off of the roll and placed it onto the island with the icing.

“Perfect!” Connie exclaimed. “Also, I’ll be back, potty break.” He quickly said before he left the kitchen.

He returned to Sasha touching the cookies lightly. She looked back at him and stated they were cool enough to decorate now. He helped her bring the trays into the island where they could reach things better and the two began their decorating.

Sasha decided to make her cookies look like their housemates. She asked Connie ahead of time to make sure he got black icing to which he had asked if it even existed. After looking to her cookies now and then, he realized why and thought it was cute.

Connie went a different way. He wasn’t so good at piping, nor was he going to bother with filling, so, he just drew squiggles and swirls. He made a face on each one, at least, but the most important thing was having a steady hand with the letters. On the chest of everyone one of his Gingerbread people was a letter. Even if Sasha looked over, she may think that Connie just didn’t know what to fill the space with, so he’d just put a letter there, but she was fully engrossed in what he was doing to pay much attention to him.

When the two had finished they looked over their tiny Gingerbread friends.

“Wow, Sash, thats super cool!” Connie expressed with joy as he looked over the cookies Sasha had worked hard on. “Also, where are the giant muscles on Gingerbread Me?” He joked, earning him a laugh and a tiny shove, which he snickered at.

“No, but, honestly...These are amazing, they’ll love ‘em.” He complimented.

“Thanks, I’m sure everyone’ll have a fun time eating themselves.” She grinned. “So, let me see what you’ve got.” She peered up at him expectantly.

It took him a few seconds of just nervously gazing at her, to move his body away from what he had been covering up.

The Gingerbread people had been placed in a way where the letters on their chests could spell something. It took Sasha a moment of genuinely loving what Connie had done with all the Gingerbread people to spell out what was written.

“...U...Wanna Date...?” She said out loud. It then clicked in. She turned her head to Connie who had the biggest blush she’d ever seen on him, and that alone lit her own face up. She looked back to the cookies, reading it in her head again and then back to Connie who looked a bit more worried than before.

She snorted and then began to laugh whole-heartedly, a sweet look on her face. Connie was a bit taken aback, but when Sasha turned to face him and wrapped her arms around his neck, and then leaned in to kiss him, he knew it was okay. They both smiled into the kiss and they both broke it to laugh. Sasha held him close, to which he responded by wrapping his arms around her waist.

“So what does that mean?” He questioned was a love struck look. She looked up at him, giving him a quick peck on the lips.

“It means, as long as we eat those now, so no one else thinks you’re asking them out, I’ll date you.” She answered.

It was Connies turn to burst out laughing now. He loved her, so very much.

“It’s a deal!”

#Connie Springer #Sasha Blouse #Sasha Braus #Springles #snk #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #aot #Modern AU #Collage AU

86 notes · View notes

maddie-talks-movies · 6 years

Text

Goodbye Until Tomorrow

[Part 2]

part 1 2

Summary: A ‘The Last Five Years’ AU. Jack is telling his story from back to front. David is telling his from front to back. They were never destined to work.

Word Count: 1356

Warnings: None

Link to ao3 here!

Chapter 2

The bell on the heavy wooden door jingled as David Jacobs walked into the small shop. The smell of paper and stale air filled his senses and he was met with rows and rows of books; more rows than he thought could fill a space this small. The shelves filled every wall and corner and stacked up nearly to the ceiling. He couldn’t help but feel like he’d been transferred to another dimension.

David moved further into the shop and let the serene feeling surround him. He didn’t know what exactly drew him to this particular used bookstore, but all he did know was that he needed something . David hadn’t left his apartment in three days, he was too busy working on his manuscript. The manuscript needed to get done, and that’s what mattered to him.

The monotony had gotten to him, though. His brain was dry-- he needed inspiration.

As he walked down 13th street this morning, there was something that drew him to this little hole-in-the-wall shop that he didn’t know existed until this morning. When he spotted the small store with a deep green exterior, David felt something pulling him in that direction, as if a string had been tied between the two of them.

David had always been able to find inspiration in others’ writing. Exploring bookshops and aimlessly reading books is a popular pastime of his. He wandered the dense rows of the shop, absentmindedly running his fingers along spines of random books that stuck out to him. The sensation on his fingers calmed him. Every stressful thought streamed out of his mind and a warm feeling of comfort filled his chest. David picked up a small, but dense looking book and kept walking, not thinking twice about his decision.

Reaching the end of the row, David realized that he hadn’t encountered one person yet-- the shop seemed abandoned. Turning the corner, David found the front desk that appeared to be as lonely as the rest of the space. He didn’t have a set agenda in mind, but for the second time that day, an imaginary string pulled him forward.

As he neared, he did, in fact, spot someone sitting behind the desk. The man's eyes were trained down and examining something in his lap. His head was in his hand as it was supported by his elbow that was stationed on one of his thighs. While David couldn’t see his face, he couldn’t help but notice the sharp angle of his jawline. The man had earbuds in either ear and slightly nodded along to the music playing in them.

“Excuse me,” David said, attempting to gain the attention of the man behind the counter. The worker didn’t seem to hear him though. It wasn’t until David set the book on the counter that the man jumped the slightest bit, not anticipating someone other than himself being in the shop.

The man quickly looked up at David and made fleeting eye contact, ripping his earbuds out of his ears. He frantically grabbed the book and started to type ISBN number into the computer in front of him; his hurried motions suggest an apology for not paying attention in the first place.

David, though, could not be more oblivious to the nervous state of the man; he’s too fixated on his calculated, mesmerizing dynamics that be possessed. The two may have connected eyes for less than a moment, but it was long enough for David to get lost in them. A passing stranger may have described the color as brown, but David saw much more.

The man’s eyes were not merely one shade a brown, but a masterful collage of every shade you could imagine beautifully intertwined. Something intrigued him about his eyes, something pulled him, leaving David with the sensation of wanting more. The earthy tones gave David’s normally chaotic mind a moment of bliss. He could have stared at his beautiful, chocolate eyes for hours, for the short-lived glance they shared would never be enough for him.

This is what inspiration feels like.

As the man typed in the number, he double takes at the book in his hand. “Tale of Two cities, huh? This is my favorite book,” he shook his head a bit, smiling. The dark-haired man bagged up the book for David and handed it to him. “That’ll be $4.38,”

David dug the cash out of his pocket and handed it to the man.

“So what brings you in this morning, can’t say I’ve seen your face in here before,” the man observed as he returns the change into the taller man’s hand. “Trust me, I would have remembered,” he said under his breath as he closed the cash box, almost as if he hadn’t wanted David to hear it.

David did hear though, and blushed at the comment. “I don’t know, maybe it’s fate,”

Both men seem taken aback by his comment, for it came off much flirtier than David originally intended. A silence fell over the two, but David outstretching his hand served as a peace omen after the previous remark.

“I’m David Jacobs,”

The man took David’s hand.

“Jack Kelly,”

Jack.

Simple, yet extremely intriguing.

David thought he was captivated by Jack’s eyes, but his smile may take the cake. Not a tooth was out of place and they seemed to reflect the bright shade of white. A quirky dimple emerged on the right side of his cheek. Yet another feature he could stare at for hours.

“So Jacobs,” Jack leaned nonchalantly on the side of the enclosed desk area, crossing his arms in the process. “What makes you think it’s fate?” His eyebrow raised in question. David didn’t want to admit it, but since approaching the counter the color of his cheeks had grown warmer by a few shades.

“Well,” David started, clearing his throat. “I’ve never seen this place before, but this morning it stuck out, and I just had to come in,”

Jack nodded, accepting his answer. “Have you read it before?”

“Pardon?”

“Tale of Two Cities, you know, the book you just bought,”

David glimpsed down at the plastic bag in his hand as if to remind himself of the purchase he just made. “Uh, no. To be honest with you, I didn’t even look at the title until I got up here to you. I just grabbed it off the shelf ‘cause it felt right,”

“Huh,” Jack remarked. “Fate you say?”

At that, David’s phone rang in his pocket. He inwardly sighed and pulled out the small device that interrupted his conversation. His demeanor changed as he realized it was his agent calling. “I’m sorry, I’ve gotta take this,” David apologized and Jack nodded in response, searching for something to look busy with.

David had forgotten about a meeting.

He had holed himself up in his apartment for so long he lost track of the days.

The meeting was in 10 minutes and he was surely going to be late.

“It was nice meeting you, but I really have to go,” David explained. He already had his foot halfway out the door when Jack called out for him.

“David! Wait up,” Jack caught up to him, letting out a heavy breath. “Take this, let’s get coffee some time?”

“I’d love that,” David answered taking the slip of paper with Jack’s number scribbled across it. A crooked grin painted his face as he exited the shop.

David started down the street, his pace quickening as his mind was caught on two separate tracks. One half was hoping, praying, that his tardiness to the meeting would be excused. He couldn’t believe that he’d forgotten this; it was so important to get your foot in the door in a business like this.

The other half was still stuck on the brown eyes; he could see them so vividly in his mind. Jack Kelly took his breath away in that small shop on 13th leaving his normally one track mind split in two.

It’s safe to say that the dark-haired boy with mesmerizing eyes didn’t leave the mind of David Jacobs.

Tags: @the-world-is-ya-erster , @fandomtrash-universe , @syrenokot

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list! My inbox is always open:)

#newsies #the last five years #javid #jack #jack kelly #davey #davey jacobs #davey x jack #last five years au #goodbye until tomorrow #brin writes things

8 notes · View notes

lady-divine-writes · 7 years

Text

Klaine fic “Take Me Over” - Hurt Me So I Won’t Hurt Anymore” (Rated NC17)

After something horrible happens, Blaine needs Kurt's help. He needs his Dom's help. But, in the end, even though Kurt means everything to Blaine, Kurt can't give him what he needs.

Instead, it comes from a slightly unexpected source. (7506 words)

Written for the Take Me Over verse, but it can be read and appreciated alone. Dom Kurt, sub Blaine, mention of D/s situations (cock and ball torture, forced orgasm, bondage, whipping, slut shaming), hurt/comfort, angst. There are a lot of unique elements in here including a sub initiated scene, a one-day addendum to their contract, Kurt failing at fulfilling what he feels to be an easy request as a Dominant, plus their family dynamic. And I’ve been working on it for over a year so it would just be nice if people read it. :)

Collage by @freakingpotter <3

Read on AO3.

“Okay, Mr. Anderson, if you would just sign here … and here … and initial here … there you are. Thank you very much.”

“Thank you,” Blaine said, taking his envelope from the delivery man. “Have a nice day.”

“You, too.”

“What is it? What is it? What is it?” Kurt sang, racing in just as Blaine shut the front door. Kurt had been lured to the house all the way from his studio in the backyard by the doorbell. He cut two clients short in his haste, a snafu that Nick was currently in the process of patching up.

But that’s what Kurt paid Nick for - with money, but more importantly, with crepes and cupcakes.

Kurt couldn’t help being excited. He and Blaine had been watching large envelopes arrive at their door day after day for the past few weeks, waiting on the edge of their seats for news of Blaine’s possible star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, or his new recording contract, or his book deal. In reality, those would get passed along to Blaine through his agent, but still, it was always exciting when an important-looking envelope came in the mail.

It was also an indicator to Kurt of just how far he’d come. He could remember a time not too long ago when anyone showing up at the door of his little run-down trailer in San Diego filled him with dread. Between the creditors, the asshole neighbors, and CPS, life seemed to find any opportunity to try and bring him down.

But that wasn’t his life anymore. He and his family had moved forward towards a brighter future, and even though Kurt worked his ass off to get there, it was also due to the persistence of one amazing man - the man joining him on the sofa, tearing into his envelope with the same level of curiosity and excitement as Kurt felt.

Blaine ripped open the top and pulled a thick sheaf of stapled pages out that definitely resembled a contract. Kurt felt his heart race. He didn’t want to read over Blaine’s shoulder, so he watched Blaine’s face for his reaction. That was the best part anyway – Blaine’s expressive face, contorting through stages of happiness. Blaine smiled big at first, but then his jaw went slack, hanging partially open in awe.

“What is it?” Kurt asked, slapping the couch cushion. “Tell me!”

Blaine swallowed hard, his eyes scanning the words he’d just read a second time before he spoke. Then he said the impossible - something that Kurt had hoped to someday hear, but never honestly thought he would.

“It’s … it’s from my dad.”

“Oh, honey! That’s … that’s wonderful!” Kurt said, clapping his hands. That sentence was music to Kurt’s ears - a long sought symphony finally written. After all this time, Blaine’s parents had come to their senses. They’d contacted their son - a few decades late, but as the saying goes, better late than never. Kurt just prayed they didn’t expect some sort of apology from Blaine for leaving home, or for living as his authentic self. Kurt’s compassion where Blaine’s parents was concerned only extended so far.

But not even halfway down the page, Blaine’s smile froze, and Kurt felt his heart shudder.

“No, I … I’m wrong,” Blaine retracted, slowly shaking his head. “It’s … it’s from my dad’s lawyer.”

“His lawyer?” Kurt yelped indignantly. “Why would his lawyer be contacting you?” There was only one reason Kurt could think that Blaine’s parents would contact him through a lawyer, and if he was right, that made them the lowest of the low. “Are your parents trying to sue you or …?”

“No. No, it’s---it’s a will,” Blaine interrupted. “It’s my father’s will. According to this, he passed away … three months ago.”

Blaine’s voice faltered on those final words. When the period fell at the end of his sentence, the air sucked completely out of the room.

“What!?” Kurt gasped. “But … why didn’t your mother tell you?”

Blaine had already gotten to that part. He cleared his throat, but he almost couldn’t continue. “B-because she passed away. O-over a year ago.”

“Oh my God!” Kurt put a hand on Blaine’s shoulder. “Blaine …” Kurt wanted to comfort him, but he felt dumbstruck. Even with everything Kurt had been through, he couldn’t imagine the devastation Blaine must be feeling. Blaine had held on to hope for so long that his parents would decide to come back into his life, but now that would never happen.

And Blaine didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye.

“I’m … I’m sorry, Blaine.” Kurt squeezed Blaine’s shoulder, but for the first time in their relationship, Kurt had no idea what else to do. He didn’t know how to help him. He didn’t know what to say. He’d think he would, considering the loss he’d suffered in his life, but nothing came to him. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s …” Blaine was on the cusp of saying that it was alright, except it wasn’t all right. How had it gotten to this point? How did things get so outrageously not right that his father didn’t think it was necessary to tell him that his mother had died? Was she sick? And if so, with what? Blaine didn’t know. Why shouldn’t he be informed? Why didn’t anyone feel the need to invite him to the funeral? There were family friends and neighbors who knew, weren’t there? People who’d watched Blaine grow up, who knew that he was famous, who could have contacted him. Did his parents warn them away? What crime had Blaine honestly committed that it no longer concerned anyone to let him know that his parents were dead?

“What do you need?” Kurt asked when Blaine’s sentence didn’t resolve and he stared off into space like he was searching for the rest of it. “Anything. Whatever you want, just … how can I help you?”

“I …” Blaine got caught on that word and stayed there, lost with his eyes open, clutching the paperwork that had changed everything for him in a matter of a few minutes. He’d heard that life could change in a blink. He believed it, too. His life altered entirely when he came out to his parents, when he got the part on Sing, and then again when he laid eyes on Kurt. But when it came to his parents, Blaine thought he had time. Take time, give them time, they would forget in time, forgive over time – they would come back to him given enough time.

But whatever time he had ran out more than a year ago, and he never even knew it.

“I … need a little time,” he said. “That’s … that’s what I need right now … if that’s okay.”

“Sure. Of course.” Kurt rested his head on Blaine’s shoulder. “Take as long as you need.”

***

Blaine was numb for the rest of the day. He barely spoke three words, and they were all for Eva. He excused himself early from dinner and locked himself in his and Kurt’s bedroom. Kurt understood. Their house was full nearly 24/7. That was one of the things Kurt loved about it. Family and friends gathered at their dinner table at eight on the dot to eat meals that Kurt made, and Kurt, Blaine, and Dave welcomed them. It reminded Kurt of the Friday night dinners he’d shared with his mom and dad, and for Blaine, it replaced the family gatherings he hadn’t been invited to. But Blaine couldn’t right now. It wasn’t that he didn’t need his family; he needed them more than ever. But he didn’t want an audience for his pain.

Blaine apologized, and explained as best he could without giving too many details. He didn’t want to say anything that might trigger the kids. It came out choppy, stuttered. Thoughts ended without picking up again, but he was still processing. Kurt did his best to ensure that conversation continued to flow after Blaine’s departure - for Blaine, who would hear them if he was listening in; and for the kids, who didn’t need any more solemn dinners - but it wasn’t easy. Everyone at the dinner table felt for Blaine. With him gone, his vacant chair represented every sad event in their lives, every heartbreak.

It was difficult not to get caught up in the sorrow of it.

After dinner, Kurt and Dave cleaned-up the kids and tucked them into their beds. Blaine always lent a hand with Eva, and it was with Eva that his absence was most deeply felt. But Kurt took over the job of brushing her hair, helping her with her jammies, and reading her her favorite story half a dozen times before she yawned and let Kurt go.

Kurt thought that he was the patient one when it came to Eva, but he’d taken for granted the amount of patience Blaine had with her. Even growing up and mellowing out, she was still a handful. She required so much specific attention. Everything in her life needed to be ordered just so, but that never seemed to deter him. He did everything she needed without being asked. Blaine and Eva were as close to soulmates as two people could get. If they weren’t so absolutely adorable together, and if Blaine didn’t confirm daily how in love he was with Kurt, Kurt might feel jealous.

When Kurt joined Blaine, he found his sub dressed for bed, re-reading the documents that had come in the envelope. To think that it had filled them with such joy before they knew the truth, a hope for reconciliation.

It was a goddamned shame.

Along with the will, there had apparently been other papers. Kurt peeked at the pile, hoping one of them would be a letter from Blaine’s parents, something that they might have arranged to have sent to their son after their death. Kurt grasped onto one last shred that there would be closure for Blaine, but no luck. The papers were a deed to a vacation property, a title to a car, a storage agreement, the remains of a bank account, and an IRA. A photograph shuffled in amongst the mix caught Kurt’s attention. He lifted it out, wondering if it was a family photograph, but it looked too recent, and there were no people in it. It was of a house – a single family residence, similar to the one Kurt lived in. He thought that it might actually be his house except that, in the white border, the address had been printed on it.

This house was in Ohio.

“What’s this a picture of?” Kurt asked, climbing under the covers.

“That’s my house,” Blaine said. “Or it was. It’s where I grew up, where I lived until I got the role on Sing.”

“It looks charming,” Kurt said, snuggling in beside him.

“Yeah, well, it does from the outside. Inside is a different story. Or it was. What the hell do I know? It could look completely different now.” There was a bitterness in Blaine’s voice, one that Kurt knew well. He’d heard it in his own voice right after Finn and Rachel died.

“What are you going to do with it?”

“I’m going to sell it,” Blaine said in a cut and dry tone that made Kurt shiver, not because of its sadness or its underlying anger, but because of its total lack of emotion.

“And what about their things?”

“I’m going to have them boxed up and put into storage until I can hire someone to go through them.”

“Well, you and I can go through them if you’d like,” Kurt suggested. He knew this was a difficult time for Blaine, but Kurt was eager to do it, take this journey with Blaine into his past. It might help Blaine come to grips with his parents’ death. It might also help Kurt understand more about Blaine than he did. Not that Kurt didn’t know Blaine. He knew Blaine in dozens of unique and intimate ways. He knew him from his words and from his actions, from pictures and videos and yearbooks, from his friends. But you could learn a lot about someone from seeing where they grew up, how they lived. What remained in that house might be a distant shadow of Blaine’s childhood, but Kurt was still intrigued by it.

“I’d … I’d rather not,” Blaine said. “I really don’t need to do it myself. I don’t think there’s anything there that I want. They sent me everything that belonged to me.”

“But, Blaine …” Kurt didn’t want to pressure Blaine, but he was concerned for him. He saw Blaine coming face to face with his past as an important step forward “… it might help if you …”

“Kurt” – Blaine’s harsh use of his Dom’s name sliced through Kurt’s sentence, and Kurt almost jerked away – “do you remember when I showed up at your house in San Diego? You didn’t want me to come in because you said that it wasn’t you, it was just the horrible situation you and your family were in.”

“Yes.”

“That’s the same way I feel about my family home. For a long time that I lived there, I wasn’t me. I was scared and confused, and in the closet without even realizing it, or how far deep. The last year I spent there, my parents … they weren’t the family I knew. They’d already given up on me. I don’t want that house painting a picture for you of a person who doesn’t exist anymore. Can you understand that?”

“Yeah,” Kurt said softly. “I understand.”

Blaine sighed. He put down his papers and turned to his Dom. “I’m … I’m sorry, Sir. I didn’t mean to cut you off or snap at you. I just …”

“I get it.” Kurt wound his arms around Blaine’s middle and sank into his sub’s sadness, trying to find a way to lift him out. “I just want to help you through this. I don’t like seeing you upset.”

Blaine slid down the mattress and curled into Kurt’s body, begging Kurt to hold him. And Kurt did. Holding Blaine seemed like the only thing he could do for him.

“Thank you, Sir,” Blaine said. “And if I could think of a way, I’d tell you. But this will pass.” He gathered up the papers with one hand and set them aside. “Once I get over the initial shock, it will fade. I know it will. I’ve been without my parents for a large part of my life. Believe me when I tell you … I’ll get over it.”

“I hope so,” Kurt said, but what he thought was I’m not so sure.

“I know I will.” Blaine was trying to reassure Kurt. Kurt felt it ironic. “I’ll be fine. I promise, Sir.”

“Alright,” Kurt said, but he had the nagging feeling that Blaine wouldn’t be.

And sometimes Kurt hated being right.

***

For weeks after, something in Kurt’s beautiful submissive changed, broke loose. He was distant. He didn’t get angry, didn’t get frustrated, didn’t laugh or smile. He would sit in one place and get lost in his thoughts. And he was sad. So incredibly sad. He moved through life like there was a fog around him. He no longer sang to himself. He barely wrote any music. He tried recording, but more times than not he sat on his piano bench with his hands poised over the keys ready to play, but he couldn’t. He was blocked.

Kurt had mentioned to him in passing that maybe he’d feel better if he cried. Kurt hadn’t seen him cry since the day he’d gotten that letter. In Kurt’s opinion, Blaine needed an outburst, something to jolt him out of his funk. Kurt remembered being in a similar state, trying to stay strong for the kids, but he had been denying himself, neglecting his own needs. Once he could surrender to a soul-crushing cry, he was able to move past it. The pain of loss was still with him, but it no longer consumed him. But Blaine repeatedly told Kurt he’d be fine. Give him time. Time healed.

Time would take care of everything.

Kurt worked in his studio as often as possible since Blaine spent his days in his music room. Kurt liked being able to keep an eye on him. Kurt never gave Blaine a schedule to follow. That wasn’t how their dynamic worked. They both had their own jobs, their own hobbies, their own lives, but regardless, they remained in close proximity to one another. It sort of happened on its own. Kurt always knew where Blaine would be and when. But Blaine had started skipping out on breakfast, grabbing a slice of toast, a cup of coffee, and a kiss on the forehead from Eva before he set out, getting to his music room most days before Kurt got to his studio. He wasn’t avoiding Kurt, he was just focused on his work.

Work which, for the moment, wasn’t going well.

They didn’t talk about the will, didn’t talk about the house. It seemed like Blaine had put the whole thing behind him, but he was far from back to normal. One morning, instead of grabbing his slice of toast and heading for the yard, he grabbed his car keys and headed for the front door, which set alarms ringing in Kurt’s head.

“Blaine?” Kurt put down his spatula, took a pan of eggs off the stove, and chased after him. “Blaine, where are you going?”

“I’m going to my old house,” he said apologetically since he hadn’t given Kurt a heads up that morning, but he had only just decided. “There are some things I have to sort through, and I need to be alone. Completely alone.”

Kurt didn’t like that. He didn’t like Blaine going off to work through his problems without him. That’s what Kurt was there for, both as his lover and his Dominant, to help Blaine in every capacity. But Kurt also knew what it was like to suffer a huge loss, how raw that made you. There were pains that no one could help you with, no matter how much they wanted to try. These were Blaine’s feelings, and they were valid. Kurt had to respect them.

“Alright,” Kurt said. “Just, please, do me one favor.”

“Anything.”

“Don’t get drunk over this. Please? If you need to take out your aggression, take it out with me, but please … don’t do that to yourself. Not when you’ve come so far and made so much progress. It’s not worth it.”

Blaine looked stung, but only for a second. Blaine’s drinking, though not a point of contention during their relationship, had been an issue for a good portion of his adult life. It wasn’t that Kurt didn’t trust him. Kurt had all the faith in the world in him. But Kurt needed Blaine to be safe. If anything happened to Kurt’s sub, to this man that he loved, he would never forgive himself.

Blaine kissed Kurt gently on the lips. “I promise I won’t.”

***

Kurt had gotten so used to Blaine spending time in the studio that he found he couldn’t work with Blaine gone. To make matters worse, it had started raining (even though it was far from winter), and Kurt loved the rain. It was one of the things about being an East coaster that he severely missed when he moved to San Diego. He was usually his most creative when it rained, but most of all, he loved spending rainy days with his sub. The drops pattered musically on the glass-tiled roof. They could look up at the sky while they made love to one another, imagine they were outdoors on the soft, fragrant grass. But Kurt wasn’t with Blaine. He was alone. And he wasn’t making love; he was working – working hard and getting nothing done. When Kurt looked at the gowns he’d finished, all he saw were tacky knock-offs of his other work.

He worried about his sub, wondered how he was dealing.

Blaine had promised not to get drunk over this, but did that mean that maybe he’d have one drink? Two? The rule against Blaine’s drinking to excess had been written into their contract, but it didn’t specify an amount that he could or couldn’t imbibe. The less Blaine drank over time, the more of a lightweight he’d become. Maybe he’d get drunk without even realizing it. Kurt didn’t want to slip into that line of thinking. Blaine was better than that. He wasn’t purposefully self-destructive. He was careful. He wouldn’t do that to himself, to the kids … or to Kurt. But Kurt wanted to check up on him, just to make sure. And it was within Kurt’s scope to do so. It wasn’t a matter of distrust. It was Kurt’s responsibility to take care of Blaine. This fell under that umbrella. Kurt would be fine with Blaine feeling hurt as long as he knew his sub was okay. Kurt pulled out his phone to message him only to find that Blaine had beaten him to it.

To Kurt:

Come over please, Sir. I need you.

By the speed in which Kurt ran to his car and shot over to Blaine’s old house, the casual onlooker might have assumed the place was on fire. Even while trying to be cautious on the wet streets, it took Kurt only a few minutes to get to Blaine’s house. He drove there on autopilot. From the calm nature of Blaine’s text, Kurt didn’t assume he was in danger, and the fact that nothing was misspelled (Blaine didn’t believe in autocorrect) meant that Blaine wasn’t drunk.

But Blaine needed him.

Kurt had his suspicions as to where Blaine could be, so when he got to the house, he went straight there. He opened the door to the playroom and was struck by the intense quiet. It was so eerily quiet that Kurt had a hard time believing Blaine was even there, but three steps into the room, Kurt found him, undressed, kneeling at the foot of the bed in picture perfect submission. Kurt paused, watching Blaine’s shoulders to check his breathing. He seemed calm. And still. So still, he might have been asleep.

“Blaine?” Step by step he approached his sub, the sound of his footsteps almost too harsh in this space. “Blaine, what’s going on?” Blaine didn’t move. He didn’t answer, and Kurt realized quickly it was because he hadn’t been given permission to. They were in the middle of a scene – Blaine’s scene. Kurt had to decide if he wanted to join in. “You may respond.”

“I needed to be here, Sir,” Blaine said. “It was … necessary.”

“What’s necessary, sweetheart?” Kurt jumped at the chance to do something for him. He wanted to hug Blaine, raise him to his feet and surround him with his love. But Blaine had put himself into this position – came to the playroom and kneeled on his spot on his own. He had possibly been here for hours, texted Kurt from here, his phone on the floor by his knees. But he hadn’t texted Kurt, his lover. He’d texted Kurt, his Dominant. This was what he needed.

So this was what Kurt would give him.

“I need …” Blaine’s lips locked tight around his wants and his needs, the lines blurring as he couldn’t tell one from the other – what was good for him, what was important, what Kurt would be willing to do. “I want you to hurt me, Sir.”

Kurt suddenly felt cold. Cold and sick. Pain had been a part of their relationship from the beginning, but not like this. Not with a heartbroken Blaine kneeling at his feet, asking for it so outright, so plain. Not in that defeated voice. Not the way he looked, like the world had ended, and Blaine needed to find a way to live in the ruins.

“And why do you want me to do this?” Kurt asked.

“Because, you’re right, Sir. I need to get this out of my system. And in order to do that … I need to cry.”

Kurt knelt in front of Blaine. He knew he risked derailing Blaine’s headspace by doing so, but he had to see Blaine’s eyes. Blaine avoided looking directly at him out of respect. Kurt placed a hand to his cheek.

“Are you sure?” he asked, hoping there was another way. They could do a regular scene. They could make love, go for a run, box, go dancing. Anything but this. Kurt had the final say, but he felt like he’d been failing Blaine so far. “Are you sure this is what you need?”

“Yes, Sir,” Blaine said. “I’m sure.”

Kurt nodded. He kissed Blaine’s nose, his lips, his chin. “Okay, sweetheart. You stay here. I have to … I have to do something first.”

Kurt stood and walked out of the room, leaving Blaine to continue kneeling. Kurt called Dave, told him he’d need a few hours. Then he went to Blaine’s old office, found a yellow legal pad and a pen, and began writing. He wrote and wrote without stopping. He’d met masochists before in his line of work, and men who wanted to be punished for the sole sake of being punished, but he’d never had to do this before for anybody. He didn’t think it would be easy coming up with a plan for it, but the second the pen hit the paper, the words just came. Without even looking at their contract, Kurt knew exactly what he wanted to write. It took him close to forty minutes to get everything down, then to re-write it to make sure it was clear and left no stones unturned. He went over it a third time, then a fourth. Part of him hoped that agreeing to the idea of this, then leaving Blaine alone to mull over the logistics of it, would be enough, and that when he returned to their playroom, he’d find Blaine on the verge of tears, relieved that he’d found an out. Then all he would need was a stern remark from Kurt to get the tears flowing.

But no such luck. When Kurt returned, he saw Blaine kneeling in the same position as before, staring at the floor, a melancholy resolve on his face. Kurt should have made him kneel on rice to get the ball rolling, except that wasn’t something Kurt had ever made Blaine do before. It was a type of pain Kurt had never had to inflict. Kurt didn’t really punish Blaine. He had before, but there was rarely a need. But this wasn’t punishment, either.

To Kurt, it sounded like torture.

But no more than the way Blaine was already torturing himself.

“Here …” Kurt sat on the mattress beside Blaine where he knelt on the floor “… I drew this up. It’s an addendum to our contract.” Without a word, Blaine put his hand out for a pen. Kurt shook his head. “Blaine, you have to read it before you sign it, or I won’t do this for you.” Kurt had a feeling Blaine wouldn’t read it – out of trust or stubbornness, or simple self-hate. So Kurt read it to him, line after line, about how this was an addendum for this one day, this one time, so that Blaine could get over this hurdle. Kurt went back over their limits, outlined the techniques he would use, swore that he wouldn’t stray into territory considered forbidden. Then he told Blaine to repeat what he’d said, to make sure his sub had heard him and understood. And Blaine, knowing this was his only means to an end, recited it back perfectly.

And yet, Kurt still didn’t want to hand Blaine the pen.

Blaine wasn’t a client. He never was just a client. But then, in essence, that should make this easier. Blaine was in pain. He was begging for Kurt’s help. He needed this, and, to be honest, this wasn’t a hard limit for Kurt. He could do this if Blaine needed him to.

And Blaine needed him to.

Blaine sat quietly, patiently, hand out for the pen, and Kurt gave it, his stomach knotting as he watched Blaine sign on the line without even looking.

“Are you ready?” Kurt asked when that was done.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Alright then. This session begins now.” Kurt didn’t change his clothes. Mentally, he’d prepared, and he didn’t need armor for this. He wasn’t only Blaine’s Dominant. He was his lover. Armor was just an accessory for them. Besides, if he took the time to change, he might second-guess this whole thing. “Up, princess,” he said, grabbing a handful of Blaine’s hair and bringing him to his feet. “Time to go play.”

Kurt didn’t secure Blaine to his newest toy, his St. Andrew’s Cross, opting instead to do what they’d always done and strap him to the posts on the bed. It gave Blaine less support than the cross, plus it made him vulnerable. There was no place for Blaine to hide when he was strung to the bed, all areas of his body exposed for abuse.

Kurt went for the obvious. He started with physical pain. But Kurt had to find a way to change the game on that one because Blaine was a slut for pain. They both were. He’d bruised Blaine before. He’d made him bleed. But those had always been consequences of play.

Kurt tried to tap as deep into his inner sadist as he could – not just the easily measured cruelty, but down to its heartless core, into the mind of the man who never completely forgave everyone who made his life a living hell … his ex-boyfriend, the cheerleaders, the jocks. That included Dave - the man he had lived with and grown to love had been one of the worst of them all. Kurt pictured the ways Dave tormented him – tossing him into dumpsters, throwing him into lockers, dousing him with Slushies, threatening his life and scaring the shit out of him over a kiss. That kiss burned into Kurt’s brain so hot with its desperation and self-loathing that he never forgot it. Even seeing Dave in the hospital after he’d tried to hang himself couldn’t erase it. And as Kurt started, as he jumped past their usual warm-up and launched into heavy handed paddling, he thought of the ways he swore he’d get back at Dave, the horrible things he’d do, from hacking into the school computer and changing his grades to failing (as if Kurt knew how to hack into a computer) to cutting the break line on his car (which Kurt actually knew how to do).

Kurt thought about his high school boyfriend, Darren, who had broken his heart. Who Kurt had given every one of his firsts to, and who had betrayed him.

Kurt channeled all of that anger, all of that vengeance, into the man he was now, only … he couldn’t use it. He couldn’t. Because he wasn’t the kind of man who could take out on someone else the pain he had endured, especially not someone he loved as much as he loved Blaine. And he wasn’t the kind of Dominant who could unload that amount of hurt onto his submissive.

He needed to find another way.

When one popped into his brain, an extremely obvious one, he wished he had settled on blind hate. It would be less cruel.

Kurt knew every single insecurity that Blaine had. He knew them, and he knew that he could exploit them. Kurt had it in his power to do it, the ammunition he would need to slay Blaine – his body insecurities, his fear of never making it as a musician, his belief that he wasn’t a good enough son to his parents. It was all there. One word, and he could devastate Blaine. Many Dominants might be able to.

But Kurt couldn’t do that, either.

It was one thing having the ammunition.

It was another to know that it should never, ever be used.

So he stuck with physical pain – nipple clips, electro-stim, a flogger he had yet to use because it had metal barbs embedded in the leather straps. He slapped Blaine’s engorged cock and straining balls repeatedly with a stiff leather crop until his twitching body looked like it would bend itself in two. He locked Blaine in a seedpod filled with spiked balls and fisted him, letting his bobbing cock torment itself, but that did nothing.

Kurt went for the slut shaming that he felt comfortable using. He fucked Blaine hard and told him that that would be the only thing his body would ever be good for; called him a princess, a cum slut, and a whore. He said that he’d often wondered how Blaine could let Sebastian and Mia use him, pictured how they’d both made him their bitch and laughed about it behind his back while they fucked each other. Then, after he pretended to cum (because he didn’t. He couldn’t – not like this), he left Blaine there. Left him hanging and alone. Kurt even opened the front door to make it seem like he’d left the house, which he did. He went outside for a breath of air. Then he sat in his car and cried. He let the anger and the tension out, but he had to be careful. He couldn’t drop now. He couldn’t allow himself to, not when Blaine needed him.

Not when Blaine wasn’t in any position to take care of himself, not to mention Kurt.

So he slapped himself in the face, dried his eyes, and went back in for round two.

He gave in and made Blaine kneel on rice while he caned his cock; had him kneel on sandpaper while he made Blaine blow him, crowding in on his face so that he’d have to slide back on his knees across the gritty paper. Kurt made Blaine cum using a prostate wand, then jerked him with a fleshjack until the oversensitivity created a dualism of pure agony bred from pleasure, coupled by the humiliation of being milked dry so clinically.

Kurt pulled out every stop he could think of. By the time they were done, Blaine had more welts, cuts, marks, and bruises than Kurt had ever put on a human body. But in the end, it didn’t work. A full afternoon of grueling punishment, and Kurt couldn’t even produce a sniffle. Nothing Kurt did, unleashing as much of his rage and fury as he dared, seemed to make any impact. It wasn’t Blaine’s fault. It was Kurt’s. Blaine needed him. He needed Kurt’s help. And the one thing that Kurt should have been able to do, he couldn’t. He couldn’t break through that barrier. He couldn’t give Blaine what he needed.

It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair. Blaine shouldn’t be going through this. His parents should have realized what an amazing son they had a while ago. They should have gotten over their pride, accepted the keys to the house, and lived happily ever after, making amends with their son. His father should have called him when his mother died. Blaine shouldn’t be an orphan.

He should have had the chance to say goodbye.

But since he was going through this, he should be with someone who could give him what he needed.

And that person, as much as it killed Kurt, wasn’t Kurt.

Kurt safeworded. He untied Blaine from the bed and helped him shower. He held Blaine against his body and bathed him, kissed him and whispered sweet words of love and encouragement in his ear. He told Blaine how much he loved him, how lucky he was to have him in his life, what a good boy he’d been. Blaine said he loved Kurt, too, but Kurt felt like Blaine wasn’t hearing him. His mind was somewhere else. He could be lingering in subspace, but Kurt wasn’t sure he’d made it there.

Kurt did everything he could to keep Blaine from dropping. Blaine needed rest, but he also needed warmth and comfort. Kurt didn’t feel that Blaine would get that at his old house. So Kurt brought Blaine home. He planned on tucking Blaine into their bed and lying beside him. While Blaine slept, Kurt would try to come up with a solution – some way to make Blaine cry that didn’t include destroying the trust and security they had built up together.

Just inside the front door, Blaine began to shake. Low blood sugar, Kurt thought, from over exertion. Kurt walked Blaine over to the wall outside their bedroom and propped him against it.

“Sit here, love,” Kurt said, pushing gently on Blaine’s shoulder to command him down to the floor. “I’ll go get you a snack, and then … we’ll figure something out. I promise.”

“Alright.” Blaine held Kurt’s hand until the last possible moment, his fingers slipping from his Dom’s grasp, then falling slowly to his lap.

Kurt hurried to the kitchen and searched for something he could bring his sub – a juice box, some crackers and peanut butter, grapes. While he bent inside the refrigerator, the door to the backyard opened and closed, and Kurt heard skipping footsteps travel across the floor.

“Hello, Uncle Blaine,” Eva said in her sing-song way.

“Hello, Daisy,” Blaine replied. Kurt knew Blaine was trying to smile for her. He could hear it in Blaine’s voice.

Kurt abandoned Blaine’s snack and peeked out of the kitchen to watch.

He saw the little girl inch along the wall toward Blaine. She stopped when her foot hit his leg, then slid down and sat beside him, legs spread out in front of her the way his were, both with backs bowed like marionettes.

Eva turned her head and looked sideways at Blaine, trying to see his face.

“Blaine?” Eva frowned. “Are you unhappy?”

“Yes, Daisy,” Blaine said. She held out her arms, and he pulled her into his lap. “I am. But I’ll be alright.”

“Are you sad about your mom and dad?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Blaine replied in a voice so soft, Kurt could barely hear it from where he stood. “I am.”

Kurt saw other questions quirking her lips, but she didn’t ask them. All of a sudden, she said, “Hold on one second.” She scrambled off Blaine’s lap and ran into her room. Kurt thought she would come back with coloring pages, or their favorite book to read, but instead she brought back a framed picture from a collage on her wall. She sat back in Blaine’s lap and held the frame for him to see. “This is my mom and dad,” she explained, pointing to Rachel and Finn. “I don’t really remember them. They’re up in heaven now, and Uncle Kurt says they look over me, but … I don’t know if I believe that.”

Blaine’s face pinched with sadness. There were days when he didn’t believe in a heaven either, but as a child, he always did. It would have hurt too much not to. To hear that from a child, one whose parents had already gone, broke his heart.

“That’s okay,” Blaine said, rubbing her back. “You get to decide what you believe.”

Eva nodded as if she’d always known that. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Sure.” He spoke to her reflection in the glass. The profile of her face overlapped her mother’s. Aside from her hair, they looked so much alike – same sharp noise, same determined chin, same ambitious eyes.

“When I think about them, I get sad, too. But sometimes, I get angry.”

Blaine looked from the photograph to Eva. “Why?”

“Because they died. They went away and left us. They left us and things got bad. I know they didn’t mean to. I know it wasn’t their fault, but sometimes I feel like it is. Does that make any sense?” She tilted her head, her curls bouncing from one side to the other.

Eva’s remarks felt like déjà vu. Blaine remembered Kurt saying something similar the night they spent in the hospital after Eva broke her leg, about how he was so angry at them for dying and leaving him and Dave alone with the kids. “Yeah. Yeah, it does.”

“So, I try to remember the good times. Finn tells me about them. About dancing and singing and tickling and telling jokes. Did you and your folks have any good times like that?”

“Yeah. When I was a lot younger, like you, we did, I guess.”

“You know, I hear you talk to Uncle Kurt about your parents sometimes. You say they stopped loving you, but I don’t think they did.”

“No?”

“No. I think that, maybe, they didn’t know how. And that … it hurt them because they wanted to, but they didn’t understand. Sometimes, when I don’t understand things, it hurts, too. And sometimes, I take that hurt out on other people. I know I shouldn’t, but I don’t know how not to.”

“It’s good that you’re trying.” Blaine wanted to shift the topic of the conversation from the failures of his parents to Eva’s successes. He’d much rather talk about those. But Eva was an intelligent girl. She waited patiently for him to continue, so he did. He didn’t want to insult her. “Sometimes I think that if I was different, they would have loved me better.”

Eva’s eyes popped open in a way that would have made Kurt giggle if she was reacting to anything else. But she looked so sincere, so sad on Blaine’s behalf, his heart coiled. “But you can’t be different. You can only be you. And if you weren’t you, you might have done something different with your life, and Uncle Kurt would have never met you. Then I would have never met you. And that would be terrible because I love you.”

“You do?” Blaine cracked a fond smile that made Kurt want to cheer. Leave it to Eva to get through to him.

“A-ha. I love you, more than the whole universe, just the way you are. And you don’t have to change for me. Never ever.”

“Is that right?” Blaine wrapped his arms tighter around her, looking happier than he had in days. Kurt felt relieved. Even if this wasn’t exactly what Blaine needed, it was doing the trick for now.

“A-ha. And do you know what else?”

“What else?”

“It’s alright to be angry at your parents for not knowing how to love you,” Eva said in a soothing voice. “And it’s okay to be sad because they went away. And it’s okay to cry for yourself when someone else dies. Because when people die, they leave pain behind, but the person who has to feel it is you.”

Blaine looked at Eva stunned. He had been ready to smile and thank her, wrap her up in a bear hug, read her a book, and call it a day. He wouldn’t be cured, but he’d be emotionally lighter than before. But what she said just then, that sliver of wisdom that Kurt never imagined a girl her age would be capable of, struck Blaine harder than any of Kurt’s hits, any of the lashes, any of the physical pain Kurt had tried so expertly to inflict. But whereas those blows seemed to bounce off of Blaine’s skin, deflect the way he’d been deflecting everything else for weeks, this one found its mark.

It hit him straight in the heart.

“Oh, Daisy. I …” Blaine’s mouth hung open. He sucked in a few shallow breaths trying to get his mouth to move and his voice to work, but his body wouldn’t let them. There was only one thing he could do.

A second later, Blaine was in tears.

Kurt rushed past the kitchen doorway to help them. Eva had never been very good with crying, or any display of emotion. It hurt her ears, she said. She would put her hands over them and scream to drown out the sound. Crying, laughter, it was the same to her. But she did something to Blaine that caught Kurt by surprise, though it shouldn’t have. Eva was a different girl than she had been before they moved to L.A., so much different from the girl he’d been helping raise the past few years. She wrapped her arms around Blaine’s shaking torso and pulled him into her embrace. She hugged him tight and rocked him, not even minding when his tears soaked her shirt.

“It’s okay,” she murmured, running her fingers through his curls and patting his back with her open, flat palm. “It’s okay. You can cry. I understand. I understand, and I love you.”

#klaine fanfiction #klaine fic #klaine #frankie writes #D/s

90 notes · View notes

mybookofbitchcraft · 7 years

Text

witches, let’s talk spell books.

this is such a huge part of our craft, and i think its about time we talk about it.

a side note before we start, there is an amazing video that personally inspired me by a witch (herspeak) that you can watch here! i will include some of the information she gives in her video in this post for those of you who don’t have the time to watch!

first off… grimoire? book of shadows? whats the difference? what on earth even is a book of mirrors?? wait… there’s even more??

well first lets quickly talk about the different types of books!

grimoire: a textbook of magick, a reference book filled with anything you desire or need to remember (lists, correspondences, how-to’s, spells)

book of shadows: for wiccans/pagans, this can be seen as more religious, but it is typically more known for its personal/spiritual journal aspects (religious or not); some may use it for references also

book of mirrors: a book of reflections, for recording experimentation and its results including successes and failures (some like to keep their book of shadows pure with only successes)

book of light: a book used usually by wiccans/pagans that is used by eclectics, referring to light as knowledge; used for notes and information often to be shared whereas a book of shadows is personal and private (sort of makes me think of a less organized/personal grimoire)

the tree: a seax-wica (an anglo-saxon paganism) version of a book of shadows

book of ways: a devotional book for wiccans/pagans

(of course all of these things are up to further interpretation!)

back in the day when witchcraft was more ruled by covens, only one spell book was required for each coven, but now that witchcraft is often a solitary and/or personal path, witches are often encouraged to have their own! most witches will have either a book of shadows or grimoire. some witches will have both, and some will have one book that includes the aspects of both and call it one or the other.

let’s start with the basic thing nobody talks about… the book itself!

what should you use? well first off, you don’t need some big, expensive, and fancy leather book straight out of hocus pocus. if its so fancy that you aren’t going to work in it, don’t use it! you could use…

a sketchbook

you could make a book (a traveler’s notebook is a great idea)

an online book

a binder and insert pages

an old thrift store book and paint over the pages

you could even write and paint on paper and paste all over your walls and work space and make a room your ‘book’

you could choose something that relates to your field of magick if you have a defined one, get creative!

make sure your book a reflection of you. but remember, we are what makes books come alive. reading is what makes languages have purpose. without you there to read it, your book is meaningless. the connection between you and your book is beyond special from the first moment you begin working!

so where on earth do i start? if you already have one, what’s holding you back from working more?

well what interests you? if you don’t know yet, here is a wonderful masterpost of types of magick! find what you like, what sounds cool to you, what resonates with you, research it! (maybe make an entry about it and your discoveries!)

once you know your interests, don’t waste time on things you aren’t interested in. if you don’t care about herbal magick, don’t write down a seven page list of all herbs and their properties. i personally had to retry creating a grimoire a few times in order to learn that lesson.

so how do i bond and grow comfortable with my book? how do i create a connection? how do i give it my personal touch?

do what makes you happy.

create your own aesthetic. maybe ask friends around you what your aesthetic seems to be if you don’t know yourself. don’t follow that big ole leather book stereotype unless you like it. if you do, another great idea for aging your pages are coffee and tea stains on your paper.

sleep with your book under your pillow! bond with it like you would your tarot deck. carry it around throughout the day. let it become a companion.

your book isn’t just a place to write about your craft, infuse your craft! if you like lunar magick, bathe it in moonlight. if you like herbal magick, spray your pages with an herb and water mix.

don’t stress about organization or a table of contents yet. you can put an index at the end when you know you’re done. its your book so you’ll probably have a sense of where things are anyways, but if you’re forgetful like me, use some labelled bookmarks!

in fact, don’t stress about it at all if you can! your book shouldn’t stress you out. mistakes happen. keep negative energy away. you and your book are a conjoined, powerful force! you can paste over pages, paint over them, or even just rip them out. in the wonderful words of herspeak in the aforementioned video, nothing is special until you say it is.

remember, it might take a couple tries to get it right, and that’s okay! you might have to make a couple throughout your lifetime to hold all the knowledge you learn, so no worries.

don’t just copy and paste other peoples’ information into your book, that isn’t how you learn. take note of things that are important to you. are you memorizing or understanding? allow yourself to understand. if it shines and you find it important, write this information in your own words and in a setup you enjoy.

you don’t have to be an artist to make a beautiful book! your book is already beautiful, unique, and magickal because its yours!

here’s some ideas for pages in your book!

correspondence lists. i definitely think color correspondences are important for just about every witch! what do these things mean to you? how do they make you feel and what do you relate them to? do this with other things you find interesting!

devote a page to your sun and moon sign or maybe you and your partners signs and how they interact.

create a protection sigil just for your book.

make a page about your totem animal/spirit animal. please don’t appropriate these terms though, you can also use daemon, patronus, eomkin, or even just your personal corresponding animal.

you could make a page for each holiday, its history and dates, and add a paper pocket into the page filled with recipes.

you could collage things that make you think of a deity you like whether you’re secular or whether you participate. if enjoy and appreciate a deity, give em a page! if you worship or work with one or many, dive in much deeper and show how that relationship affects you.

paste in pictures from books or parts of posters that show what magick means to you.

practice spirit work? draw the spirit! collage the spirit. find art that makes you think of the spirit and pop it in there.

press plants you find, tape them in, bring a little greenery into your book. label them if you like. give them your own names if you don’t know your plants well.

write your dreams out, decorate in a way that feels right, use colors according to how it made you feel.

draw out the ingredients you want to use in a spell/potion/oil. dab a bit of the creation on the page.

make a page for your familiars. list any spells for them, where you found/adopted them, their breed and things about them, what’s their favorite snack, and if your familiar is cooperative, maybe try to get a paw/nose print!

make a pendulum chart.

find one of those adult coloring books. tear a few pages and stick them in either randomly or maybe in a page about meditation. when stressed, use it as a meditative practice.

chakras, what they mean to you, correspondences, and which you may need to work on. here is a fun test you can take that tells you if your chakras are under-active, over-active, or open.

any fictional/real witches or wizards that stood out to you? why?

write about magickal experiences you had as a child you can’t explain today. what about imaginary friends and were they imaginary?

get geeky. make spells about video games! inspire spells based on favorite characters and abilities or get inspiration from your favorite playable mages! get really creative with this one.

make a page about past lives if you know of any.

what do the elements mean to you? what are your favorites? which do you feel connected to?

stick envelopes in there and put recipes, spreads, all sorts of things in there to save some pages! utilize fold out pages for long chunks of information.

do you cast circles? what do you use? what do you think the energy looks like? the color? the shape if you don’t see it as a circle? draw the seen and unseen.

make a page about your spiritual or psychic gifts. how did you discover them?

make a list of things to research. cross them out as you do.

print out aesthetically pleasing pictures you find portray you and your craft. collage your personal aesthetic/witchy moodboard

i could list on and on, but i hope i’ve given you some creative inspiration! make your book what you want! keep researching and gain inspiration from others if you’re ever lost. feel free to message me if you ever have questions!

happy casting!

#witchcraft #grimoire #book of shadows #book of mirrors #book of light #book of ways #the tree #wicca #paga #wiccan #witchy #spell book #ideas #g #magick #beginner witch #baby witch #my post

9K notes · View notes

eldritchsurveys · 4 years

Text

697.

Has anyone ever told you that you looked like a celebrity? >> Yeah, a couple of times.

When was the last time you got something done to your hair? >> I buzz my hair every couple/few weeks or so, and that’s all that ever gets done to it aside from washing.

Do you have any change on you right now? >> No.

What color is the pillowcase(s) on your bed? >> One is dark grey and the other is light grey.

Do you have a favorite day of the week? >> No.

Cutting your hair extremely short, would you do it? >> My hair is cut extremely short.

Have you ever been in an art show? >> Yes. I used to attend an art-based summer camp for homeless LGBTQ youth, and one year we got to have our art shown in a gallery in SoHo. My piece was a collage. I know I have a photo of it somewhere but I have no idea where that photo’s gone. Maybe it got deleted forever when I deleted all my old facebooks (I realised after the fact that I should have gone through them for stuff I wanted to save, but it was too late).

Would you considered yourself to be well-exposed to life or sheltered? >> I would consider myself to be well-exposed to certain facets of life. There will always be parts of life I have no experience with.

How high is your pain tolerance? >> It depends on the type of pain and the duration. Tattoos? Fine. Lacerations? Fine. Burns? Mostly fine. Cramps? Please fucking kill me.

If you're in a relationship, how long have you been dating? >> By Sparrow’s reckoning, we’ve been together for eight years.

Have you ever played the game Halo? >> No.

Are you wearing any jewellry at the moment? >> Just piercing jewelry.

Is there a sport that you love to play? >> No.

Has anything made you sad in the past 48 hours? >> Yes.

Have you ever had to learn lines for a play/skit/movie? >> A few lines, as an extra in a summer production of Annie when I was in middle school. Having nothing to do for most of the time, I somehow managed to memorise the entire play and would recite it to myself at night for, idk, fun.

Do you like your nose? >> I don’t have any thoughts about it. I like my nose piercing, though.

Is there a hair color you prefer on the opposite sex? >> No.

Kissing someone with facial hair, do you mind? >> The only place I really kiss anyone is Inworld and it really doesn’t matter there.

Would you ever like to be a stunt person? >> No.

Are you a pyromaniac? >> No.

How soon is your birthday? >> It’s in a little over two months.

Are you one of those people who listen to songs on repeat? >> Not really. It’s a rare song that makes me want to do that.

Can any of your friends sing very well? >> Probably. I wouldn’t know, they haven’t sung around me.

Would you ever enter any kind of pageant? >> No.

Do you have piano fingers? >> I was told I did when I was a child. I don’t know about now. I have Guitar Hero fingers, hah.

What is your preferred curse word? >> Fuck is pretty versatile.

When someone's drunk, the truth comes spilling out, correct? >> Not necessarily. Alcohol isn’t a truth serum, it’s just another way of temporarily changing the way the brain works. That change isn’t always for the better, and sometimes it messes with people’s thoughts and interpretations of what’s going on around them, and heightens their emotional response to things, and makes them less likely to respond with what might be their customary grace or tact. That doesn’t mean they were a rude, angry bitch all along, it means their brain functions have been tampered with.

Have you ever shouted something random at someone out a car window? >> No.

Have you ever slept on a beach? >> No.

Would you like to be taller? >> My height is the least of my concerns.

Are you a fan of piercings on the opposite sex? >> I’m a fan of piercings.

Have you ever listened to Celtic music? >> Sure.

Do you enjoy making up words? >> I haven’t really given it a shot.

Have you ever been attacked by an animal? >> No.

Do you have sympathy for hobos? >> I don’t really know how to answer this.

Who did you dance with last? >> Can Calah.

When holding hands, do you intertwine fingers? >> ---

Do you have an old pair of pyjamas that you just can't throw away? >> No.

Is there a movie that makes you cry every single time you watch it? >> There might be. I have a pretty strong track record of crying every time I watch The Fountain and Interstellar.

Do you ever talk to the TV? >> Sure.

What's your opinion on Johnny Depp? >> I don’t have an opinion on him anymore. I used to really enjoy watching movies with him in them, but now JD movies can be vastly hit-or-miss for me. Sweeney Todd? Hit. Alice in Wonderland? Eh...... Mortdecai? What the fuck.

Have you ever watched the Tudors? >> No. I thought about watching it a few times. Vlad was obsessed with it. But historical dramas are also a thing that is vastly hit-or-miss for me.

Can you speak in different accents? >> No.

Who was the last person you mocked/mimicked? >> I don’t remember.

If you write, isn't writer's block the most horrible thing? >> Sure.

Can you sew or knit? >> I can perform the basics of both.

Do you have a favorite pair of jeans? >> I only have two pairs of jeans and they are equally okay. They’re basically the same pair, but one has ~ fashionable ~ rips in them.

What size shirt do you normally wear? >> Medium.

Are you good with money? >> Good enough, I guess. It’s not like I have a whole lot of it to manage.

Has anyone ever aimed a gun at you? >> No.

Do you think it's possible for a person to be fearless? >> Apparently there’s a woman who has this rare genetic thing with her endocannabinoid system that makes her remarkably impervious to pain and fear.

Do you know anyone who doesn't seem to have a conscience? >> Well, I know a few people with personality disorders that make them far less receptive to guilt.

What is the first letter of the person's name you last kissed? >> ---

Have you ever written a song? >> I used to rewrite songs I knew with different lyrics, when I was a kid. That’s the closest I ever came to writing songs.

Do you believe their is life on other planets? >> Sure.

If you think about the universe long enough, it's baffling isn't it? >> Yeah, a bit.

When was the last time you fell? >> I don’t remember. It’s been a long time. Sometimes I fall on purpose, though, to convey drama. Did that the other day when I was talking to Sparrow about something (forget what).

Would you consider yourself to be poor, middle class, or rich? >> Poor.

Are you a fan of Christian Bale? >> Not particularly, but I do really like some of the movies he’s starred in (like The Machinist and The Prestige).

Do you have any sort of debt? >> No. I can’t even accumulate debt, which is a good thing on one hand, but on the other hand is emphasis on exactly how poor I am -- credit isn’t even a thing I can gain.

Is there an accent you prefer? >> No.

Have you spoken to the person you love today? >> One of them.

Would you ever travel to Los Angeles? >> Sure. I’m very curious about LA.

Have you ever been through a natural disaster? >> Only the bit of Hurricane Sandy that came up to New York that time. It was a very interesting experience.

Is there a specific time period that interests you? >> No, most time periods interest me.

Do any of your friends own an expensive car? >> Not to my knowledge.

Have you ever been on a train? >> Many times.

Is there a memory that embarasses you to think about? >> Sure.

Have you ever used different colored paper clips? >> Yeah.

Where exactly are you right now? >> In my bed.

Don't you admire those people who know exactly what they want to do? >> I admire having passions and caring deeply about things.

Is there a guy you can talk to about anything? >> Sure, Can Calah.

Have you ever been in a parade? >> Yeah, I’ve been in NYC Pride a couple of times, and Sparrow and I led a second line after the wedding, which is basically a small parade.

Would you ever consider being a news reporter? >> No.

Are you, or anyone you know, an atheist? >> Several people I know are atheists.

Has anyone ever told you to "get a grip"? >> Probably. If anyone told me that now, I’d be tempted to get a grip on their throat.

Do people say you look your age? Or younger or older? >> People say I look younger than my age. I feel like I look tired these days, though, and looking tired makes one seem older, so maybe it evens out.

Have you ever sent a celebrity fan mail? >> No.

Are you ashamed of how you acted when you were younger? >> Yeah, but I’m also not going to feel too badly about it now. It happens. It’s part of being young. Ultimately, I did my best with what I had at the time, even if my best wasn’t that great.

Do you ever have those days where you feel you're the ugliest person ever? >> Absolutely.

Beauty is both external and internal, correct? >> It’s wherever you perceive it.

Have you ever been in a musical? >> The aforementioned Annie production, but only as an extra.

When was the last time you swam in a pool? >> The last time I was in a pool was probably at one of those aforementioned summer camps. Although I might not have gotten in the pool there, either. I don’t know. I tend to avoid pools, as a rule.

Is there a friend's family that makes you feel like you're family too? >> No.

How do you know someone is your best friend? >> I don’t know, how do you know that?

When was the last time you used a highlighter? >> I don’t remember.

Has a flashlight ever ran out batteries on you in the dark? >> No.

#surveys #survey #random survey

0 notes

bewitched-moons-world · 5 years

Text

witches, let’s talk spell books.

this is such a huge part of our craft, and i think it's about time we talk about it.

first off… grimoire? book of shadows? what's the difference? what on earth even is a book of mirrors?? wait… there’s even more??

well first let's quickly talk about the different types of books!

grimoire: a textbook of magick, a reference book filled with anything you desire or need to remember (lists, correspondences, how-to’s, spells)

book of mirrors: a book of reflections, for recording experimentation and its results including successes and failures (some like to keep their book of mirrors pure with only successes)

the tree: a seax-wica (an anglo-saxon paganism) version of a book of shadows

book of ways: a devotional book for wiccans/pagans

(of course all of these things are up to further interpretation!)

let’s start with the basic thing nobody talks about… the book itself!

what should you use? well first off, you don’t need some big, expensive, and fancy leather book straight out of hocus pocus. if it's so fancy that you aren’t going to work in it, don’t use it! you could use…

a sketchbook

you could make a book (a traveler’s notebook is a great idea)

an online book

a binder and insert pages

an old thrift store book and paint over the pages

you could even write and paint on paper and paste all over your walls and work space and make a room your ‘book’

you could choose something that relates to your field of magick if you have a defined one, get creative!

make sure your book is a reflection of you. but remember, we are what makes books come alive. reading is what makes languages have purpose. without you there to read it, your book is meaningless. the connection between you and your book is beyond special from the first moment you begin working!

so where on earth do i start? if you already have one, what’s holding you back from working more?

so how do i bond and grow comfortable with my book? how do i create a connection? how do i give it my personal touch?

do what makes you happy.

sleep with your book under your pillow! bond with it like you would with your tarot deck. carry it around throughout the day. let it become a companion.

your book isn’t just a place to write about your craft, infuse your craft! if you like lunar magick, bathe it in moonlight. if you like herbal magick, spray your pages with an herb and water mix.

don’t stress about organization or a table of contents yet. you can put an index at the end when you know you’re done. it's your book so you’ll probably have a sense of where things are anyways, but if you’re forgetful like me, use some labelled bookmarks!

in fact, don’t stress about it at all if you can! your book shouldn’t stress you out. mistakes happen. keep negative energy away. you and your book are a conjoined, powerful force! you can paste over pages, paint over them, or even just rip them out. in the wonderful words of her speak in the aforementioned video, nothing is special until you say it is.

remember, it might take a couple tries to get it right, and that’s okay! you might have to make a couple throughout your lifetime to hold all the knowledge you learn, so no worries.

don’t just copy and paste other people's information into your book, that isn’t how you learn. take note of things that are important to you. are you memorizing or understanding? allow yourself to understand. if it shines and you find it important, write this information in your own words and in a setup you enjoy.

you don’t have to be an artist to make a beautiful book! your book is already beautiful, unique, and magickal because it's yours!

here’s some ideas for pages in your book!

devote a page to your sun and moon sign or maybe you and your partners signs and how they interact.

create a protection sigil just for your book.

make a page about your totem animal/spirit animal. please don’t appropriate these terms though, you can also use daemon, patronus, eomkin, or even just your personal corresponding animal.

you could make a page for each holiday, its history and dates, and add a paper pocket into the page filled with recipes.

you could collage things that make you think of a deity you like whether you’re secular or whether you participate. if you enjoy and appreciate a deity, give them a page! if you worship or work with one or many, dive in much deeper and show how that relationship affects you.

paste in pictures from books or parts of posters that show what magick means to you.

practice spirit work? draw the spirit! collage the spirit. find art that makes you think of the spirit and pop it in there.

press plants you find, tape them in, bring a little greenery into your book. label them if you like. give them your own names if you don’t know your plants well.

write your dreams out, decorate in a way that feels right, use colors according to how it made you feel.

draw out the ingredients you want to use in a spell/potion/oil. dab a bit of the creation on the page.

make a pendulum chart.

find one of those adult coloring books. tear a few pages and stick them in either randomly or maybe in a page about meditation. when stressed, use it as a meditative practice.

chakras, what they mean to you, correspondences, and which you may need to work on. here is a fun test you can take that tells you if your chakras are under-active, over-active, or open.

any fictional/real witches or wizards that stood out to you? why?

write about magickal experiences you had as a child you can’t explain today. what about imaginary friends and were they imaginary?

get geeky. make spells about video games! inspire spells based on favorite characters and abilities or get inspiration from your favorite playable mages! get really creative with this one.

make a page about past lives if you know of any.

what do the elements mean to you? what are your favorites? which do you feel connected to?

stick envelopes in there and put recipes, spreads, all sorts of things in there to save some pages! utilize fold out pages for long chunks of information.

do you cast circles? what do you use? what do you think the energy looks like? the color? the shape if you don’t see it as a circle? draw the seen and unseen.

make a page about your spiritual or psychic gifts. how did you discover them?

make a list of things to research. cross them out as you do.

print out aesthetically pleasing pictures you find portray you and your craft. collage your personal aesthetic/witchy mood board

happy casting!

0 notes