#i accidentally drafted it instead of queueing it like i was supposed to

[haledamage]

Dancing Lights

HAPPY BIRTHDAY CAIT @queen-scribbles 💖💖💖💖💖!!!! Hope you're having a great day!

I bring you a gift of Etain/Vikkari, with him as Commander and her as the companion for a change 😉 she wanted to help him with what must be Azata path's biggest issue in the early days. fairly early in the game, I think, and definitely pre-relationship, but Etain definitely has a crush :3

---

Etain was staring.

She knew she was, and that she shouldn’t be, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop.

She just hadn’t expected the Commander to be so… adorable. Not that he wasn’t also powerful, and strong, and courageous, and charismatic, and all the things the leader of a crusade should be, but… Well, she’d assumed that the mysterious power that inspired the Fifth Crusade would have less… butterflies.

There were just so many of them. They’re like little dancing lights of blue and green and pink, catching Etain’s attention anytime she lowered her guard--which was more often than it should be, lately, but something about Vikkari put her at ease.

Like now. They’d set up camp on the edge of a thick copse of trees that seemed as safe as anywhere could be in the Wounded Lands. Dinner had already been eaten, and their group had split off to take care of their own business before sleep and watch rotations started.

Etain was supposed to be cleaning and restringing her bow, but got distracted halfway through the task, and now she was staring. At Vikkari. 

Again.

If he noticed, he didn’t seem bothered by it. His focus was on the small block of wood that he was carefully carving into, strong hands gently and meticulously coaxing it into shape. Butterflies flitted around his head, glowing softly in the falling daylight.

One of them landed on his nose, flexing its tiny teal wings. Vikkari shook his head to shoo it away, but it held fast. He lowered his whittling with a dramatic sigh, which fluttered the butterfly but didn’t dislodge it.

Etain couldn’t help it. She giggled.

She covered her mouth almost immediately after the sound escaped, but it was too late. Color bloomed over her cheeks all the way to the tips of her ears, but she managed--barely--not to pull up her mask to hide her face when Vikkari’s attention fell on her. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to--I, um--” she took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and tried again. “I think you’ve got somethin’ on your face.”

His laugh finally dislodged his butterfly mustache, which flew away in a decidedly irritated way.

The laughter faded, but lingered in his eyes and the warmth of his smile. “Did you need something?”

“Oh!” She shook her head a little too quickly, dropping her gaze to her hands for a second before it was pulled back to the commander. “No. I was just curious about your… your butterflies.”

Vikkari finally (reluctantly? Or was that just wishful thinking on her part?) looked away from her to the jovial swarm fluttering around him. “There do seem to be an awful lot of them.” He sounded more amused than bothered by them.

Etain hummed in agreement, watching the glowing insects in consideration. She could feel the moment Vikkari’s attention returned to her, but she resolutely didn’t look back, in case doing so would make her forget what they were talking about. “Are they illusions? A manifestation of the magic of Elysium?”

He nodded slowly, getting lost in thought for a moment, before he finally said, “Maybe they’re like Aivu. Real butterflies, drawn here by…” he paused, smile faltering, “whatever this power comes from.”

The urge to comfort him was almost overwhelming; Etain would say almost anything to bring that smile back. “Or they could be local. Maybe they just think you’re a very interesting flower.”

Half of his smile came back, a crooked smirk that would look cocky on someone less charming. “Because I’m so pretty?”

“Because you’re sweet.”

A dazzling smile lit Vikkari’s face as an equally radiant blush spread across his cheeks. Her own cheeks flushed in response, and she ducked her head to hide it behind her half-unraveled braid.

Her eyes fell on her knapsack, and a sudden thought struck her. “Sweet,” she murmured to herself, an idea forming.

“What was that?” Despite his obvious curiosity, Etain knew he wouldn’t push if she didn’t want to share.

“May I try something?” She waited for him to nod before reaching for her bag, and dug around until she found a small bottle of amber liquid. The gentle pop of the stopper drew Pippin’s attention from dozing by the fire, but she ignored him and let a couple of drops from the bottle fall onto the back of her hand.

As soon as she held it out toward Vikkari, two butterflies changed trajectory to inspect, landing on her knuckles and flexing their wings with what could only be excitement.

Vikkari leaned closer, golden eyes glowing brighter in echo of the insects’ reaction. “What is that?”

Etain shrugged one shoulder, careful to keep her hand still. “It’s just honey.”

Eventually, the butterflies ate their fill and flew off to join the rest again--though they gave a little more respectful distance this time, she noticed.

Vikkari watched them in something like awe. Etain watched him in much the same way.

“So they are real.”

“I guess so.” She held her hand out to her side where Pippin waited patiently to clean the rest of the honey off of her hand.

The conversation ended there, meandering to other subjects--the Crusade, Vikkari’s whittling--before Seelah, Lann, and Aivu came over to join them. But Etain thought about it the next day while they traveled, and the one after.

Inspiration finally struck two days later, while the group traveled a road that cut through the middle of heavy forest. Etain walked parallel to the group, mask up and bow drawn, scouting the woods for ambushes; Lann took the other side, doing the same, with the rest of their collection of melee fighters and magic users on the road.

She didn’t find any ambushes (it had been waiting a mile up, in the middle of the road in plain sight), but she did find something else.

She brought it to Vikkari after dinner that night, relishing his surprised look when she held out the bundle of flowers in her hands. “May I?”

It took him a few seconds to reply, which made something warm settle in her chest. She didn’t know the Commander could be lost for words.

Eventually, he nodded. “Of course.”

Etain carefully unfolded the flower crown and placed it on his head, arranging it carefully against his (soft, how is his hair so soft this far from civilization?) hair.

As she’d hoped, the butterflies immediately took interest, coming in to land on the flowers instead of swarming around his head. Within moments, he had a halo of glowing wings, green and blue lights among the orange, pink, and purple flowers.

“Aster, phlox, lavender, and butterfly weed,” she said in answer to the question he didn’t ask. “Hopefully that will keep them out of your eyes, at least.”

He grinned at her, brighter than the fluttering crown he wore. “How do I look?”

“You look…” she blushed and looked away, unable to answer honestly and unwilling to lie. “I’d offer to show you, but I don’t own a mirror.”

“Thank you.” His voice was too soft, too warm, and it just made her blush darker. As always, he was kind enough to give her an escape route from her own embarrassment, and changed the subject. “What are the rest of them for?”

“Oh.” Etain had almost forgotten that she still held an armful of flowers. “They’re for Aivu. May I?”

The question was directed at the havoc dragon, who lounged nearby. Aivu nodded eagerly before the question was even finished, and Etain smiled as she settled the larger flower crown on her head. “There. I thought you might like one too. So you can match.”

“Where’s yours?” Both the dragon and the cleric asked at the same time before exchanging a grin, a silent conversation flowing between them that she couldn’t even begin to understand.

“I don’t need one,” she said quickly. It’s not like she had a swarm of fae butterflies to deal with, and even so she wasn’t one to indulge in pretty things. (Except the Commander, a knowing voice whispered in the back of her head.) “And I didn’t want to pick too many anyway.”

Vikkari nodded, seemingly in agreement, but she could see the gears whirring behind his eyes. Etain knew she hadn’t heard the last of this.

Strangely, she found herself looking forward to finding out what happened next.

[ruanbaijie]

going on “hiatus”

for those who didn’t already know, I accidentally killed two of my external hard drives (one of which contains all my show videos I’ve collected over years and the other all my PSDs) a couple of weeks ago and I haven’t been giffing since then. (any sets I’ve posted between then and now were sets I’d done waaaayy back and were just waiting in my drafts)

the good news: I managed to recover my lost data. the bad news: I’ve spent nearly 1.5k in local currency to recover said data and get new drives. the even worse news: the new external hard drive all the recovered data is on can only be read on a windows... and I use a mac. 

SO. I am currently trying to very painfully transfer my data (all 2-3+ TB of it) into other new external hard drives that my mac can actually read, after which I would have to check that everything is transferred and reformat the original hard drive (ugh). 

AND. I am currently off in thailand for nearly two weeks.

ALTERNATIVELY. (which seems like the more likely option now since I just spent one entire day transferring not even half of 1TB of data only for the internet to drop and lose all my fucking progress) go back to the data recovery centre and get them to transfer my data to a mac-compatible drive and throw more money at them.

all of which mean that I will be too busy worrying my ass off over my data during my supposed vacation and will have no time to make gifs at all for at least a couple of weeks, which I absolutely hate myself for because I’ve been making gifs continuously since I started in january 2020 and I have been running on a very constant 3-4 gifs per week schedule since I started. and which also means the schedule I have of gifs which extends to january 2023 (yes I plan way in advance what gifs I want to make lkadlkfkl) will probably need to be pushed back 2-3 weeks and I. hate. myself. for. that. *flings self off a cliff*

so I’ll be going on a “hiatus”. in inverted commas because I’ll still be here, queueing posts and stuff. also in inverted commas because people out there be going on hiatus for months but this dramatic ass be calling it hiatus for 2-3 weeks (but this is the longest pause I’ve taken from making a single gif since I started this whole shitty business so I’m calling it a hiatus). I won’t be posting any new gifsets or edits for the next 2-3 weeks. instead, I’ve selected 16 of my past sets (it pained me to just choose 16) that I really love and enjoyed making and will be self-reblogging 1-2 per day - as a reminder to the lovely folks here that I still exist and have not disappeared into a void and as a reminder to myself that this is why I’m pouring so much effort into recovering my lost PSDs and videos; these are files that I spent so much research and time into making, it would kill me to lose them just because I was enough of a clown to swipe my external hard drives off my desk

[hsmuffintop]

It’s people like those fans today that make me hope I never come across Harry in public because I don’t want him to generalize his fans based on these few that have no decency or respect for him as an actual human person. now I would love nothing more than to meet him and get to talk to him and tell him how much I, and we as fans, love him and how proud we are of him and get a picture but if he said no I’d back off because I know he doesn’t turn fans down for no reason. I also know he’s a human being before he’s a rock star and has the right to turn stuff down without a reason if he wants to because he can. he’s not an object to be put on a pedestal or something you need to try to acquire for your collections. he is a person, with feelings, and I think it’s ridiculous that people need to be explicitly told that he should be treated as such.

[magic-and-moonlit-wings]

Posts vanishing from my queue?

A few days ago I had three posts queued, all with similar jokes about that trope where a character has an excessively long disarming sequence. Only one got posted. I wondered if I’d moved the other two into my drafts or accidentally deleted them the last time I’d rearranged my queue. I was unable to find the other two again to add them to my Queue for a later time.

Yesterday I had two Happy Chanukah posts queued and only one of them posted. I did find a copy of the other post elsewhere and it’s in my queue again.

Today I had a ‘Happy Halloween’ ‘What? But it is Christmas Eve!’ post scheduled (not in the queue which is meant to put up x-many posts between Time A and Time B, but set to go up at a specific time regardless of the other queued posts), and when I happened to check my dash about an hour later it hadn’t gone up yet, and wasn’t listed in my queue or stuck in my drafts and I had to dig up the source post and find another reblog of it with the ‘Christmas Eve’ gag. 

I am getting irritated with this glitch. It defeats the purpose of queuing and scheduling posts if they’re just going to vanish instead of getting posted.

When things in the queue disappear like this, it doesn’t put the next queued post up in their time slot - there’s just nothing. So far it has only happened to my reblogs, not my original posts.

I suppose another possibility is that my account has been hacked and someone is occasionally randomly deleting posts after they go up but before I notice they’ve gone up, but that doesn’t make as much sense as my current hypothesis that something is wrong with the ‘queue posts’ program.

Has anybody else noticed this happening?

@staff, @support, when can we expect this glitch to be repaired?

Edit: It happened again - my 1:00pm and 1:30pm posts on December 27 2019 never went up and are neither in my Queue or Drafts folders.

[monachopsicalwhimsy]

// So remember last night when I said there was going to be some tea spillage?

I didn’t because I wanted to give myself a bit to calm down and actually think rationally about what I wanted to say. The full story will be under the cut and I’m going to queue the post too so I won’t know when it’s coming out and have anxiety over it.

Roleplay writing is supposed to be fun, a hobby to relax and escape the real world for a little bit. But I had someone ruin that for me for quite a while. As many of you know @vitrexanima (I can’t actually tag her because unfortunately she blocked me) and I used to be best friends and we wrote with one another every day.

Now? I wouldn’t trust her as far as I could throw her. And I want you guys to know the havoc she wreaked on not only myself but my muses.

For starters there was a lot of personal stuff between us and I soon came to find out how selfish and manipulative she is. I don’t think it’s necessary to go into detail there though.

She had said when we first started writing that her muse Aeron was an “asshole”, a very difficult character to get along with and that it would take some time for him to warm up to my muses. Never ever was I warned that he is abusive nor was a toxic relationship between our muses discussed. Both of my muses have been through hell and honestly I would never write a toxic ship for them.

But, unfortunately that’s what it became.

James and Aeron had a soulmates plot, and it started out with some angst to shake things up. It took them a lot to get somewhere even civil, let alone anything resembling a relationship. Even then James was treated like shit, insulted, and dragged through mud.

And as for Aeron and Adain.. well she’s pretty much one of the sweetest and most giving muses I have ever seen. She gave and gave and gave to Aeron but anytime she tried to get anything in return it was met with a harsh attitude and a shitstorm.

James tried to kill himself twice, the first of which landed him in the hospital. Aeron brought him, but he was still treated like shit and caused a freak out for James, which made Aeron have to leave the hospital. Nothing got better.

The way Aeron was treating Adain started reminding her of the way her ex treated her, stirring up those triggering thoughts and memories. She’d started contemplating ending her life too.

Again… none of this was ever discussed as okay. I kept trying, my muses kept trying and giving but absolutely nothing would change. It messed them up and wore me down. I started thinking we were the problem, that I was an awful writer and my muses were too underdeveloped. Otherwise why weren’t things getting better??

Over time it destroyed me and my muse for writing in general. I could hardly get any replies out. Things just kept getting worse and worse. It caused my depression and anxiety to act up badly. I had my first panic attack in years over my draft count, but I couldn’t bring myself to write.

Meanwhile, Wyntaire (the mun) kept manipulating me into thinking she cared and that the muse’s relationships would get better.

It didn’t get better.

After talking to a couple of my friends on here, I realised how much messed up stuff had been going on and got the courage to call it quits. So I messaged her, basically calling her out about the abusive things Aeron was doing and how it destroyed my muse.

I didn’t get an apology. Not once throughout this whole ordeal, nor did she even seem like she cared. Instead she moved on to one of my other mutuals and closest friends. It seems like she’s doing the very same things to me that she’s doing to them. I pray it isn’t the case and that they get out before they get destroyed…

Anyway… so. I called her out. Said that I am not going to write with her anymore. She said something about changing her muses (bc her muse Eira was a problem too but it’s less relevant). And we stopped talking. I unfollowed her.

Meanwhile- she still continued to tag our old ships in things. Constantly. I did my best to ignore it. About a week passed. And then the other night happened, which is why I’m writing this.

Over the course of the night she reblogged 7 of our threads. All of which were tagged as from the queue… but that seemed highly suspicious considering:

I know her writing speed.

Her queue never posts that many at once.

Several of them had to have been written after I decided to quit writing with her.

None of those threads were talked about in her posts that kept track of what was in her drafts/queue.

It honestly really upset my muses and I. So I decided to message her and ask why she posted them. I was given the excuse that they were from the queue, which let’s be honest I knew she would. And she supposedly didn’t want to delete them because the time was taken to write them. I tried to be nice and say that I might still reply to the ones she had posted with Adain and Oliver, because he was completely unproblematic so I figured no harm done..

I was told that she couldn’t do that because it was “uncomfortable” for her.

Uncomfortable for her?!

Are you kidding me?

After all the shit she put my muses and I through yet SHE was uncomfortable.

So that was the end of that conversation. Except I had seen that she continued to tag our ships, and she had reblogged another one of my posts. I went to message her and ask her to stop…

And she had blocked me. Mind you she had also “accidentally” blocked me here and on discord a few days prior to this and even after slipping up that she did it on purpose refused to admit what she had done.

And here we are.

@vitrexanima is a snake. Don’t trust her.

I just wanted to warn you guys about the awful experience I have had. I don’t want the same thing to happen to any of you guys as well. Not just with her, but with anyone in the rp community.

If something doesn’t feel right, please, for the love of rp DO NOT go on with it! You’re allowed to back out if a situation makes you uncomfortable.

[talesofzero]

Happy Birthday Gen!!

@genesisnx Here’s a drabble about Harpy Manabu and Naga Bulge for u. You’re precious and I hope you have a good birthday. 

And now I just want to write GR things. (EDIT: I accidentally hit post instead of queue so you get it early because I’m dumb!!)

Something blocked out the sun overhead. The shadow cast onto me moved like some furious swarm, warped and ever-changing. I should have hidden automatically at a sight like that, considering how close I was to bird territory, but curiosity led my gaze up just in time to see whatever it was getting closer.

Again, I should have moved, but it was still moving in a flurry, and the nearing cries of “no, no, no!” made me raise a brow as I squinted through the treetops. It hit the balcony with a crash and a cry, and by that point, I could tell it was small. It fit easily in my arms when I reached out to catch it. A hail of drifting feathers followed like an odd snowstorm.

Its own feathers were ruffled, sticking out every which-way. And its – or rather his – eyes were wide and dazed.

“Are you alright?” I asked.

“Uh,” he answered, blinking a few times. He was the oddest bird I’d ever seen. Couldn’t have been more than seven years-old and tiny as anything. His ruffled hair was the same brown as his eyes, but his wings were a shimmering green. They were also thin and sharp like blades. Around his throat was a ruff of blue feathers which looked puffy and soft.

Finally, his eyes found mine. He looked as though he’d just noticed me there. “Can you stand?” I asked.

“I think so,” he said.

I settled him down on his taloned feet, which seemed much too big for him, and he leaned his weight between them as a test. “Yeah,” he decided. “I’m okay.”

“That’s good.”

He looked back toward me, still puzzled. He was just tall enough to reach my hip, though he was quick to trail his eyes down, following my tail all the way to its tip. “Oh, you’re a snake,” he said.

“We prefer Naga.”

His eyes were wide again as they returned to mine. “Are you going to eat me?”

“No.”

“Oh, okay. I’m Manabu Yuuki.” All anxieties gone, he stuck out his hand with a big grin. One of his teeth was missing, but I assumed that had happened before the fall. He must have hit his head pretty hard though.

Out of politeness, I took his small hand in mine and shook. “My name is Schwanhelt Bulge.”

A moment’s confusion crossed through his eyes as he tried to make sense of my name, but he shook it off. “Nice to meet you!”

“Yes, it’s a pleasure, but what are you doing down here? Ground-level isn’t safe for young birds. Did you fall?”

Well, clearly he’d fallen, but he was quick to shake his head. “No, I meant to come down here,” he lied, crossing his arms. They were littered with cuts from the branches overhead, like his cheeks. “Where is your shirt?” he asked to divert the conversation.

“I don’t usually wear shirts in the summer.”

“Why?”

“I’m cold blooded, so I’m plenty warm if the sun is out.” Plus, I couldn’t afford them.

“I bet you never wear pants.”

“That would be correct.”

He started giggling, and I couldn’t help but smile along. He seemed good-natured, even if he was likely also trouble. He was lucky I’d been the one to find him and not some of the others of my kind. The wolves and cats down here could be trouble as well.

“Where are you off to, Manabu?” I asked, hoping to speed him along.

“Oh!” His eyes darted off to their corners. It was all too obvious I’d caught him in his lie. “I was just going back home.”

“Then you should be getting back. It won’t be light out much longer, and trouble always comes out at night.”

“Right, I can fly back!”

I wasn’t so sure, but his wings shot up from his side. At least, one of them did. The other seemed to catch, bent at an odd angle. Manabu made a strangled sound, and his eyes rolled back behind fluttering lids. I had to swoop down to catch him before he could fall to his knees.

“Manabu,” I called. “Can you hear me?”

His head lolled for a moment as he struggled to pull his chin up. “M’okay, Swan,” he mumbled, near incoherence. “Hurts…”

I wasn’t sure why I always put myself in these situations, but with a sigh, I picked him back up like a fragile piece of glass. “Climb on my back,” I said, worried about putting any pressure on his wings. “And stay awake.”

Of course, as soon as he had his arms around my neck, he rested his forehead against my shoulder.

“No falling asleep,” I said. “I need you to show me where you live.”

A trembling hand reached out, pointing up above the trees toward the cliff-side that hung over the forest.  “There,” he said.

Why…why did I always put myself in these situations?

The bottom of the cliff wasn’t far off. In fact, I made my home there in a cozy alcove. I’d seen the shadows of birds flying overhead before, but I’d always imagined them living in the trees. I thought of the caves as safer, more troublesome for the birds to reach. If I survived this, I would need to look into a change in address.

“Do you know where your home is from here?” I asked once we’d reached the cliff side

He squinted at the sky with a hum. “Yeah, up there where the rocks poke out.”

It was twice as high as the treetops. I was going to die. With a deep breath, I released his legs and reached up for the towering wall. At the same time, I brought my tail up and curled it around his middle.

“Do you squeeze people to death?” he asked.

“No.”

“Do you bite people to death?”

“No. I don’t kill people.”

“Oh. Daddy does.”

That made my hands freeze against the rocks. “Why’s that?”

“It’s his job. He’s uh captain.”

He must have been part of the Guard for the area. They were supposed to be neutral, only killing when necessary, so I hoped he would recognize me as harmless. Then again…

“Would your father be able to carry you back home?” I asked, though I began climbing anyway.

“Yeah, he’s real strong, but he won’t get home ‘til night. Big brother gets home late too. Mom was out getting dinner.”

“So there was no one around when you tried to fly off?”

“No,” he said, only to catch himself. “I wasn’t flyin’ off!”

Scolding him wasn’t my job, so I let it go. I had to focus on climbing anyway. Despite my upper body strength, climbing was one of those rare occasions where legs would have come in handy. My tail was too wide to rest on any small ledges, so I was left to dangle.

Not even a fourth of the way up, my arms were already burning. Letting go wasn’t an option, though. I was just going to have to suck it up.

“You’re very strong,” Manabu called.  

“I do my best,” I said.

“We’re getting up.”

“Yep.” Edges on rocks bit at my fingers, and my sweaty palms made the dirt cling. I was sure I wouldn’t be able to move for days after this. I also wasn’t too sure how I was going to get down.

“Are you afraid of heights?” Manabu asked.

“I’m not used to going much higher than the trees, so I’m not sure,” I answered through gritted teeth. “Are you?”

He laughed at that. “I like being up high. I almost never touch the ground.”

Of course, stupid question. But that didn’t explain why he trusted me so much. If I fell, he did too. He should have been more concerned about that, but at least one of us had faith in me.

As I dragged myself up one ledge, I found it wider than the rest, though not by much. Still, I let out a sigh of relief and took a moment to rest my weight on it. Though Manabu still hung over the edge in my grasp, he didn’t seem to mind. He kicked his feet as I dusted off my hands.

“How’s your wing?” I asked.

“It’s fine.” He ran his hands down my scales, refusing to look up at me. He really was a terrible liar.

“How is it really?” I pressed.

He puffed his cheeks. “It kinda hurts when you move, but it’s okay if I don’t move it. It’s fine.”

I wasn’t sure if that was a good sign. Bird anatomy wasn’t a strong suit of mine. “It sounds like it’ll heal fine,” I said anyway.

He nodded, and I returned to the wall in front of me. Manabu continued to chatter as I climbed the rest of the way. My short answers didn’t put him off in the slightest.

“Your tail’s pretty,” he said as I neared our goal. “I didn’t know there were blue snakes. Blue’s my favorite color.”

I answered with a huff as the ledge cut into my gut. Once I’d dragged my top half up, my upper body was done moving, so I lay there and curled my tail up alongside me. I was careful to set him down on his knees before unfurling my tail.

“There-there,” he said, patting my back. “You made it!”

“Mm-hm,” I returned. The air up here was nice and cool, rolling over my back. I let my eyes fall shut until I felt Manabu kiss my cheek. He didn’t seem concerned by the startled look I gave him.

“Thank you,” he said. “Do you want some water? You can come inside.”

I peered around him to see a massive, round door at the mouth of the cave. Having a door must have been nice, probably kept the drafts out.

“I think you’d have to drag me inside,” I said with a weak laugh. “I’ll just lie here a minute. I’d appreciate the water though. Be careful of your wing.”

“I got it!” He popped up and rushed into his home. Such an odd little bird. I knew they weren’t all like that. The scars across my face proved it. He must not have been a predatory bird, didn’t have the wings for it, though he did have a good set of claws on those feet. He was a bit too fluffy looking to come off as threatening.

That was not the case for the guy who slammed down next to me. I saw his feet first, bigger than my head with talons sharp enough to take out my eyes with one quick movement. Pain and fatigue vanished from my mind as I shot up to face the new bird.

He was tall, as tall as I could be when I pulled up as much as my tail would allow. With my heart hammering and my vision narrowing, I could only see his burning blue eyes. “What are you doing here?” he snarled. “How did you get up here?”

My stammering didn’t help matters. “Manabu- I had to carry-”

“Manabu!?” he screeched. “Did you touch my brother!? I’ll kill you!” His wings shot out, massive compared to Manabu’s. Those were true predator wings. He had none of the fluff Manabu did. With one strong flap of his wings, he was off the ground, his talons out in front of him.

My only thought was to get away. He was prepared to gut me. Tossing all my weight to the side, I was quick to realize my mistake when the ground dropped out from beneath me.

I heard a howl from Manabu, a loud, terrified scream of “No!” He was the last thing I saw before dropping off the edge. He stood in the doorway clutching a glass of water with his eyes wide.

I knew this was a bad idea.

There was nothing to catch my fall but the ground, so I shut my eyes and waited for it. My back did slam into something, along with the spine of my tail. It did hurt but just enough to bruise. The thundering roar of flapping wings surrounded me, and I opened my eyes into slits.

A man with calm eyes and sleek black wings held me. His hair was much like Manabu’s, the same curls of brown, but his jaw was firm, his shoulders wide. Had he not looked so relaxed, he would have been more terrifying than Manabu’s brother. His neck also had a ruffle of feathers, but they were a bloody red and smoothed down.

“Are you alright?” he asked as he settled into a landing.

“Yes?” I croaked.

“Swan!” Manabu called from up above. He sounded terrified. “Are you okay? Big brother, you almost killed him!”

The brother said something that I couldn’t hear, but it was clearly a bad call because Manabu started yelling at him.

“Boys,” the man sighed. He turned back to me with a weary smile. “My apologies. Mamoru can be testy. My name is Wataru Yuuki.”

“I-I’m Schwanhelt Bulge,” I said.

“May I ask what you were doing at my home? Actually, more importantly, how did you get up there?”

“I climbed. I had to get Manabu back up.”

“Back up?” Wataru frowned. Without asking if I was prepared or alright with it, he bent his knees and flexed his wings.

“Wait-” I began, but he shot up into the sky. He must have been as strong as he looked to be able to carry me. With the weight of my tail, I was heavier than any creature with two legs.

Still, he settled us back on the ledge as though he’d been carrying a child. The boys silenced at his arrival. “Manabu, what happened?” he asked. “Are you alright?”

Manabu must have forgiven his brother because he was quick to hide behind him. “M’okay,” he mumbled. “I just fell.”

“You fell!?” his father and brother echoed.

The brother, who must have been testy Mamoru, looked little like either of them. His wings were more like his father’s, stained dark unlike his neat blond hair. The feathers of his throat were red like Wataru’s but flat and shimmering like Manabu’s wings. Mamoru and Wataru wore the same navy uniform, with the crest of the Guard, but Mamoru must have been about my age, somewhere in his late teens.

Manabu hid farther behind him, burying his face in his brother’s slacks. It was clear from the anxious yet firm look in Wataru’s eyes that he wouldn’t allow Manabu to hide anything from him. “You’re home early,” Manabu mumbled.

“Sir, could you put me down?” I asked as he tried to bore a hole in his sons to figure out what was wrong.

“Oh, certainly. Let’s go inside for this.”

That wasn’t what I meant, but who was I to argue with the man whose feet could crush my skull with ease?

The inside of the Yuuki home must have been through some portal because it looked nothing like a cave. Everything was decorated and smooth. It was cozy. Wataru set me down to lie across their couch. I was far from fitting.

I was starting to understand where Manabu got his socializing habits from because Wataru didn’t seem too concerned about me. Though he had little explanation as to why I was there, he seemed to trust me. With his back to me, he knelt in front of his smaller son. “Alright, Manabu, I want an explanation. We should get this sorted before your mother gets home. You know she’ll be upset.”

“I tried to fly,” Manabu mumbled, still trying to hide behind his brother. “But I couldn’t.”

Wataru heaved a sigh. “So you fell?”

“Yeah. Swan caught me though.”

Wataru looked back at me with relief, but I had to speak up in case Manabu didn’t. “Check his wings,” I said. “The trees caught him first.”

Manabu shrunk back from his father’s hands, “Manabu,” Wataru warned. “Let me see your wings. Stretch them out.”

“I can’t,” Manabu whimpered. “It hurts.”

Wataru heaved a sigh. “Son, come here. Let me see.”

Manabu tiptoed over and turned so his father could prod at the thin wings. “Swan carried me back up,” Manabu said. “He’s very strong.”

“He must be,” Wataru said. “We’re very grateful to him. We weren’t expecting to come home early, so it’s good to know that he was willing to go out of his way to take care of you.”

“It was nothing,” I attempted.

Wataru threw me a smile over his shoulder. “No need to be modest. You really saved him. There’s definitely at least a fracture, so we’ll have to take him to a doctor.”

“Can Swan come?” Manabu asked.

“Swan has his own things to get back to,” Wataru said.

He seemed to want me to back him up on that, but I had nothing for him. “I, uh, I do need to find some food.”

Wataru blinked. “You don’t have a job?”

Scavengers like myself were a rare breed now. Most had converted to the human system with jobs and stores. “Few are willing to hire Naga, sir,” I said.

“Well, you’ve got the formalities down, so you can join my platoon if you’d like.”

“What?” Mamoru squawked. “Dad, he can’t possibly-”

“He save Manabu’s life. We owe him. Besides, he’s shown himself to be selfless. He would make a fantastic addition to the platoon once we train him. Of course, it’s up to you, Bulge.”

I didn’t feel like I had a choice. Saying no to him seemed impossible, not that I ever would have. The Guard was the elite, the most loved group in the forest. I sealed my fate with a nod.

Mamoru was trouble, but he grew on me. I wasn’t sure if I ever grew on him. Manabu was bigger trouble, always trouble. He only got worse as he grew, but it was impossible not to adore him. He always demanded attention with the brightest smile. Like his father, it was impossible to say no to him.

I wasn’t sure why I tried.

When Wataru slammed down outside my cave and said I was coming to Manabu’s 18th birthday, I should have known better than to suggest I needed to get ready first. Wataru scooped me up in his arms against my protests and shot back up toward their ledge. My stomach found my throat.

“Please stop doing that so fast, Captain,” I wheezed as he set me back down. “One of these days, I’m going to puke.”

“Don’t get sick. There’s cake.” He was kind enough to straighten my uniform. I hadn’t gotten the chance to change since getting home, but it was one of the only shirts to fit me well. The rest were hand-me-downs from him.

“Isn’t there always cake?” I asked. “This is Manabu we’re talking about.”

Wataru cracked one of his rare grins. “I hope you’ve gotten to like sugar water.”

“Then I really will puke.”

Inside was filled with the warm, sweet smell of baked goods. Manabu’s hummingbird mother greeted me with her wings buzzing. “Bulge!” she cooed. “So glad you could make it.”

“Swan is here?” Manabu called from the hallway. I heard the click of his talons and the buzz of his wings before he crashed into the doorframe, his eyes bright as usual. “Swan!”

He’d never grown out of the nickname. In fact, he may have thought it was my actual name. “Evening, Manabu,” I greeted. “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you!” He didn’t appear to need more sugar, hovering in place thanks to his rapid wings, but he took the water his mother gave him, no doubt laced with sugar. I’d always wondered if the glass he’d fetched me when we first met was sugary as well.

“Calm down,” his mother said. “You’ll knock something over.”

Dropping to the floor, he blew bubbles in his water, his cheeks shaded pink.

Luckily for me, Wataru and Mamoru also ate meat, so there was something edible for me. Kanna actually had the skill to cook just about anything, even if she didn’t eat it. Manabu’s entire dinner was cake, his talons kicking under the table. I couldn’t quite sit like them, so I did without a chair, curling my tail up under me.

It was far from the first time they’d had me over for dinner. In fact, they tended to pull me up at least once a week. I’d never understood why they’d always been so kind to me. I owed them far more than they’d ever imagined they owed me.

It wasn’t until Mamoru pulled a gift wrapped in pretty blue paper from the coat closet that I recalled the small one back at my home. “Ahh, I left mine,” I hissed.

“We can go get it later,” Wataru said with a soft laugh. “That was my fault.”

Manabu seemed to vibrate as he opened the gift, his smile getting wider and wider. His wings started to flick. He was awfully cute.

When the paper fell away, it was the same navy coat that I wore. Wataru had talked over adding him to the platoon for the past few years. The captain always looked anxious at the idea, but it looked as though Manabu’s pleading had finally won out. My gift wouldn’t look like much in comparison. I’d never seen Manabu quite so happy.

“You’ll still have to complete training,” Wataru tried to say over all Manabu’s eager thank you’s. Manabu managed to quiet him by tackling him with a hug. Despite Wataru’s best attempts to look stern, he broke with a smile as he hugged his son in return.

“I helped talk him into it,” Mamoru said just to ensure Manabu would turn and hug him as well. “It’ll be good to have you on the team, little brother,” Mamoru hummed. He was such a softie when it came to his brother.

“Bulge did aid in your argument as well,” the captain said.

That was true, but… “Captain, you don’t need to-“

“Really!?” Manabu turned on me as though he saw stars. He started hovering again, and shot over to me.

I wasn’t sure what I expected, but it wasn’t a kiss. His lips met mine, sweet as all that sugar thrived on. I wasn’t usually one for sweets, but it was nice when it was him.

At least, it would have been nice had it not been in front of his whole family. Manabu broke away red-faced. He looked as startled as I did, his eyes wide. “Whoops,” he said airily.

“I’ll kill him,” Mamoru said.

“Mamoru, no,” Kanna scolded as she stepped forward the shield me. She was tiny standing in front of her son, but her presence was enough to wear him down.

Wataru was the one I really feared, but he blinked, looking as calm as ever. “Looks like you won’t need to go fetch that gift then,” he said. “Manabu already stole his present from you.”

Manabu’s face turned red as blood. “Dad, hush.”

“I believe I raised you to be polite and ask permission before invading someone’s personal space.”

Manabu buried his face in his hands. “Dad, no.”

I still felt like I’d taken a blow to the head. “Um…welcome to the platoon,” I offered. “It’ll be nice to have you with us.”

Manabu nodded. “Sorry about that.”

“Uh, it’s alright. I didn’t mind.” Wait, no, that wasn’t what I’d meant. Well, I did mean it, but…

I was sweating as all eyes turned on me. Manabu peered between his fingers curiously, Wataru looked like he was trying not to laugh, Kanna grinned, and Mamoru looked ready to tear my throat out.

Why did I always put myself in these situations?

[oliverwvvd]

something brewing: part i

The moral of this story is that I need to not do the stupid thing and accidentally press save draft instead of queue, since this was supposed to be posted at least a week ago. Oops. Anyway, this is part I of the previously discussed barista au, because I toyed with the idea for a while and it stuck around. Yes, I recognise the title is a horrible pun, but I couldn’t resist. I hope that everyone who liked the idea of this isn’t disappointed.

Premise: Oliver is a sports science student who has to maintain his grades in order to retain his scholarship and has a good chance of playing football professionally. Despite that, he’s serious about wanting to do well. His flatmates spend more time drunk than they do sober, so he’s given up trying to work at home and finds a little coffee shop to study in. What he doesn’t expect is to develop a painful, near-instantaneous, utterly inconvenient crush on one of the baristas.

i: marcus.

It was just past 5pm, and Marcus was comfortably settled into work for the evening. There was a lazy hum of guitar as his background noise of preference, the coffee shop wasn’t too crowded and that gave him time to open his textbook underneath the counter in between making drinks while Susan handled the customers and sorted out any food orders. The page was marked with the casual ease of someone who was used to reading in what spare moments he had, and ain’t that the truth? Honestly, he had trouble absorbing it all at once, so taking information in bit by bit while he did other tasks always worked far better for him, letting him actually retain it instead of forgetting it immediately after reading.

While he turned the pages, humming softly under his breath, dark hair clustered at his temples in slight, tousled waves made worse by the steam from the coffee machine. The scent of freshly ground coffee filled his nose, underscored by the lesser hints of different types of tea, and you’d think he’d be sick of it by now, but the fact was he found it comforting. It smoothed out all the rough edges of his day and helped him to concentrate.

Leaning across, Susan stuck a receipt in front of him. “Large latte with an extra shot for the tall drink of water down at the end there.” There was a mischievous note to her voice that he’d heard before, usually when a customer was particularly easy on the eyes, and he shot her a look back as he got down to making the drink, a grudging half-smile playing about his lips. She mouthed, “Eleven out of ten,” at him, her petite frame safely hiding her behind the coffee machine, and he lifted an eyebrow, because only once in a blue moon did Susan make that sort of assessment. Working in a coffee shop this close to the university, they both got to see a lot of different people walk in and out when they were on shift. One thing he had learned, however, was that he and his fellow barista had different ideas of what was visually appealing. Maybe it’s because she’s an art student, they find the weirdest things interesting. In Susan’s case, that often extended to people, too.

The latte was done in a matter of moments, his hands moving in a familiar rhythm that was as old as time itself to him now. Flicking a quick glance to the receipt to get the name, he walked down to the end and asked, “Large latte with an extra shot for Oliver?” before sliding the drink across the counter, a slight curve of his mouth because customer service meant you were supposed to smile and be courteous. Since he’d never really mastered smiling on command because other people thought he should, this was the nearest thing that he could manage.

When he glanced up to identify the customer, though, he didn’t expect to find someone looking directly back at him, and he certainly didn’t expect to recognise the face, even dimly. Oh. It took effort not to do a double-take, because he knew he’d seen this one around somewhere and couldn’t quite place where. But everything else apart, Susan had, for once, been exactly right. High cheekbones, gloriously messy brown hair, and as he took the drink, a warm, seemingly shy smile that didn’t match with the slight cheekiness of the friendly wink he paired with it. “Thanks,” he said, and as he walked away, Marcus got a wonderfully prolonged look at exactly how long his legs were. It took actual concentration not to let his eyes wander further. Not at work. He ignored Susan, who was trying not to laugh and failing, and instead opened his textbook again.

“Well. If he meets even your impossibly high standards…” Thankfully, her voice is naturally low-pitched anyway and the boy, Oliver, had long since vacated the immediate area for a table over in the far corner, or he might actually have stepped on her foot to silence her.

“Don’t start, Susan,” Marcus warned, attention momentarily drawn from the pages in front of him, a loose scattering of diagrams and pencils notations visible. “I’ve got to get this stuff into my head before the next class if it kills me. I don’t need distractions.”

He felt rather than saw her pout. “Well, if you don’t feel like being distracted, mind if I do? Honestly, he’d make a wonderful model, I might see if I can convince him to sit for me.”

With an impatient gesture that said be my guest quite clearly, Marcus went back to his book while Susan wandered out onto the main floor of the coffee shop. Ostensibly, she’d gone to clean up, but the odds were good that she’d find an excuse to be distracted, as she put it, while she was there.

ii: oliver.

Oliver was absolutely knackered. So knackered, in fact, that the only thing stopping him from going back to his flat and murdering his flatmate in cold blood, or falling asleep in the chair he’d just sat down in was the steaming cup of coffee in his hands. When he took the first sip, his eyes actually closed for a moment because thank Christ, caffeine. On the second sip, the warmth seeped through him and took away the fact that it was freezing outside. On the third, he was recovered enough to sneak another glance up at the counter and the dark head of hair tilted downwards over what looked like a book. They’d barely exchanged words, really, but Oliver knew himself, enough to know that he definitely liked what he’d seen when the barista had handed him his coffee. Sharp jawline, faint hint of dark stubble that managed to be attractive without being scruffy, broad shoulders clad in a long-sleeved navy-blue shirt rolled back at the elbows, and that maddening hint of a smile. Another sip of the coffee, and it was enough for him to tell that it was good, definitely good enough to keep him coming back. The odds were that he was going to be spending a lot of time here, and the reason why could be summed up very succinctly. “Drunken bastards,” he muttered under his breath, opening his backpack and pulling out his notes, wincing at the state of his handwriting. Right. Best neaten these up.

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

Startled, Oliver looked up, not realising that his commentary had been quite so audible. However, when he realised it was the redheaded girl from behind the counter, he relaxed. “She’d wash my mouth out if she heard me,” he said, amused. “Because like every mother, she’s convinced that I’m still five and won’t believe it until I prove otherwise. That was relatively mild.”

“Aye, I figured, you being very obviously from Glasgow and all.” The impish grin that accompanied the girl’s words left him confused, until she introduced herself. “I’m Susan. Barista by whatever hours I’m designated to work, art student by trade who couldn’t help but notice you’ve been gifted with the kind of bone structure that begs to be drawn.”

The words flustered him, left him wondering how the hell to answer, so he settled on an easy smile and deflection. “Honestly, I think your counterpart might be the better candidate for that,” he said, nodding in the direction of the other barista. When he caught the playful gleam in Susan’s eyes, he kicked himself. Why do I talk? “But I’m never opposed to a new friend. I’m Oliver,” he said, offering his hand outwards. “Which you know, because I gave you my name about five minutes ago when I ordered,” he added, cringing slightly at himself. And this is why I shouldn’t try to be social when I’m tired. “Sorry, bit braindead, the coffee was necessary.”

When Susan laughed and shook his hand, he couldn’t help but be a bit relieved. Usually, he had no problem navigating new interactions, but right now he was operating on far less sleep than he actually required. When her expression took a turn for the mischievous, Oliver became sharply aware that he’d probably said something he shouldn’t have. “He’s so used to me drawing him in between taking orders at this point that he’d probably be thankful for me practicing on someone else,” she said with a theatrical sigh. “And honestly, can you blame me?”

Watching the dark-haired barista move with the kind of controlled grace that made him look almost alien when placed behind somewhere as commonplace as a coffee shop counter, Oliver couldn’t argue with her and therefore, he didn’t. Instead, he spent a few seconds mulling over the boy, wondering what his name might be and why he felt like he’d seen him before. Probably around the university or something. Fortunately, he didn’t have to answer because she switched subjects a moment later. “So what brings you to our little hole around the corner from the campus? Besides the coffee, of course. I’m guessing you weren’t cursing just now for effect.”

Oliver sighed. “I ended up with an absolute dobber for a flatmate this year. Spends more time drunk than sober, and doesn’t know when to shut it. I like a drink now and then, but not when it means I can’t get any sleep because the eejit and his mates won’t shut it at four in the morning.” He rolled his eyes, pointed at the cup. “Hence the extra shot. Eight o’clock football practice this morning, class in the afternoon and I’m done for, and still got to do some work.”

The wince of sympathy was gratifying, as were Susan’s next words. “Well, that definitely explains the swear words. Should I get our resident coffee genius to make it stronger next time?”

Oliver didn’t even pause in response. “God, yes. If he can possibly add any more caffeine without giving me the shakes or making me ill, yes.”

“He can make anything that involves coffee and tea taste palatable, it’s a gift. Do you trust me?”

“I’ve just met you.”

“I’m a barista. Trust me. Give him free rein on what he makes you next.”

Oliver was too tired to make sense of the conversation, even after the first (excellent) cup of coffee, and his notes were swimming in front of his eyes anyway. “All right. Tell him that if he can make me something that’ll keep me on my feet for the rest of the evening and tastes as good as the first one did, he’s got a guaranteed customer for life.”

iii: marcus.

Marcus was somewhat expecting the cat that’s got the cream smile on Susan’s face when she practically sashayed back behind the counter. He’d looked up only once, seen that she was talking to the attractive boy from earlier (Oliver, his brain helpfully supplied) and snorted to himself, deciding to leave her to it. If there had been a slight pang of disappointment, well, he only had himself to blame, didn’t he? And this, this was why he didn’t do distractions.

“Hey, hotshot. Pretty boy over there says he’ll drink anything you make so long as it tastes palatable and doesn’t give him the shakes. Up to the challenge?”

So much for no distractions. Of all the things he’d anticipated her saying, that hadn’t been one of them. Against his own will, Marcus found his eyes unwittingly drawn towards the boy, suddenly becoming very aware that he had dark circles beneath his eyes and actually looked outright worn out, the more so as he sifted through what looked like pages of notes spread out on the table in front of him. “Hard partier with a hangover?” he asked, rather hoping that wasn’t the case.

“Footballer with early practices, late afternoon classes and a selfish gobby prick for a housemate who thinks four in the morning is an acceptable time to be pissed as a newt,” Susan amended, only managing to further pique Marcus’ interest, while simultaneously making him wonder how exactly she managed to inveigle information out of people the way she did. “He’s had a long day. Make him something good.”

“Your wish is my command,” Marcus drawled, abandoning his textbook and turning his attention to the coffee machine. “Did you get his number already? I figured it’d take you at least ten minutes to work up to it, and that was barely five.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Susan unsuccessfully attempt to hide a smile, resolved to get her back for it later. “No, I don’t think I’m his type, though he didn’t seem to have trouble acknowledging that he finds you good-looking.”

Marcus didn’t bother restraining himself; he rolled his eyes at her quite plainly, and chose not to acknowledge the remark. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her raise her hands in surrender. “Just passing it on, even if you don’t believe me.”

“Stop bothering me, woman, if you want me to make the damned drink,” he snapped, not meaning to sound quite as snippy as he did. Thankfully, Susan had known him long enough to know the difference between him wanting to focus and him actually being annoyed, and simply stuck her tongue out at him before heading out to the storeroom to go and obtain more takeaway cups. Left in peace, Marcus spent five minutes concocting something that would tick the boxes specified with the ingredients that he had to hand. The result ended up being a monstrous latte that only just fitted in the largest takeaway cup. It looked relatively ordinary, but he was confident that it would fit the bill. “Order for Oliver?” he called.

And if he wanted to watch the other boy walk towards him, well, he didn’t have to admit it to anyone but himself. Even if his rule was no distractions, he didn’t see any harm in appreciating the view, and there was a lot about the view to appreciate. When Marcus set the takeaway cup down in front of him, there was a shy smile playing about his mouth again and God, he wished he didn’t find it as attractive as he did. When the other went to reach into his pocket, obviously intending to extract his wallet, Marcus shook his head. “Try it first,” he said, leaning elbows against the counter and not quite able to help his curiosity. He didn’t often get to see the first reaction to a new drink, so this was a rare opportunity.

When the other boy inclined his head, raised the cup in his direction and took a long drink from it, Marcus watched his reaction move from neutral to enjoyment with a slight half-smile. He didn’t get the chance to ask the question, because Oliver (don’t pretend like you don’t know his name, Flint) had a much wider smile on his face now before he spoke. “I can taste the caramel, and…apple pie? And at least a double shot in there.” It was less of a guess when he had another long drink, and damn if that response didn’t make Marcus’ day in less than ten seconds. “God, that’s exactly what I needed, and I never would have ordered it on my own. How much do I owe you?”

Marcus shook his head again. “Nothing. You just helped test out a new special for the menu,” he said, wanting to outright grin, not quite comfortable enough to let himself do it. Finding the other attractive was one thing, but actually doing something about it was another. Probably has someone, anyhow. The fact that he was even considering the matter was more than he wanted to think about, shoved it away with a nod of his head as Susan emerged from the storeroom. “Get that down your neck, you’ll feel better,” he said, before disappearing into the storeroom himself, under the pretext of checking whether or not they’d received the new blend that was supposed to be arriving. They hadn’t, but he found a mess, like he always did. With a faintly exasperated sigh, he started to tidy up, ignoring the fact that he’d just bolted in the opposite direction to the first person he’d genuinely been attracted to in almost a year. Well, I always did have a knack for self-sabotage. Or maybe I just don’t want to waste my attention on a lost cause.

iv: oliver.

Oliver had been coming to the coffee shop for a few weeks at this point, for a multitude of reasons; the first being that waking up with a hot drink in his hand before his first tutorial or before practice was infinitely preferable to staying at his flat. The second being that his flatmate hadn’t proven to be any less of an idiot as time had progressed, and while the atmosphere between them wasn’t hostile as such, it might easily go in that direction if Oliver was around the flat more often. The final reason, and the one that he was all too aware of, was the fact that the coffee shop came with the added bonus of the dark-haired barista, whose name he’d discovered only four days prior. Susan had called back to what was presumably the storeroom while Oliver had been waiting for his usual morning order (a flat white). “Marcus, are you done in there yet?” For reasons he couldn’t understand, everything seemed to click into place at that point. The name was fitting, but that was also the point where he couldn’t entirely ignore the fact that not only had he liked what he saw when he first laid eyes on the other; he’d liked it enough for the interest to continue past the initial meeting.

So the combination of irritating flatmate, burgeoning caffeine addiction, and a need to work undisturbed also happened to coincide with the fact that he was developing a small, inconvenient crush on the barista, on Marcus. They hadn’t exchanged words much, nothing more than polite conversation really, but in that time, a comfortable routine had developed. In the mornings, Oliver had his flat white. In the afternoons and evenings, Marcus often had free rein on what to make for him, and he’d never yet gotten it wrong. With a glance, dark eyes seemed able to assess what kind of day he’d had and make the drink that fitted the bill. Susan hadn’t been wrong: the other had a gift for it.

It was late one evening when Oliver approached the counter with a textbook in hand, around 8pm, and was met with the half-smile that never quite made it to something more. It held mystery, that look, and he’d rapidly learned that he didn’t mind a little mystery. “Same again?” The question, ready when he reached the counter, made him smile ruefully. “Yeah, please. This thing’s making life difficult for me.” He raised his textbook, an analysis of sport psychology that was interesting enough, but not easy to translate to the project that his professor had given him. If he hadn’t been watching, he wouldn’t have seen the flicker of surprise, however slight, that crossed Marcus’ expression when he saw the textbook. That was nothing, however, to Oliver’s reaction when the barista responded, “Yeah, that one’s not fun. Been having a bit of a wrangle with it too.”

It took a few seconds for Oliver to click. Really? So maybe that’s where I recognised you from, even if dimly. “I didn’t realise you were in there too,” he said with a smile. “How come I’ve never seen you?”

“It’s a big lecture theatre. I sit up at the back and the lecturer’s usually turned the lights down for the projectors by the time I get there. I didn’t know you were in there either, to be fair.” That was when the usual half-smile that he’d become strangely used to widened, and oh, Oliver wasn’t prepared for that, because if the effect of the half-smile was bad, the full smile was absolutely devastating by comparison. He was sure that he was staring like a fool, and he didn’t have the will to sort it out. Pull yourself together.

“I’m aiming for physiotherapist eventually,” Marcus continued, seemingly not registering Oliver’s reaction. “But I’ve not seen you in any of my other classes, which are somewhat smaller, so I’m guessing you’re taking a slightly different direction.”

It took Oliver a few seconds to form a coherent sentence, and under other circumstances, he would have been really bloody well embarrassed about that, but Christ, he’s only human and that smile was like attacking the unarmed. “Yeah, I…I’ve been scouted for football, so most of what I’m doing is geared towards being able to coach and help other athletes if that doesn’t pan out,” he said. Though he knew that he was good at what he did, he wasn’t naturally a braggart. He felt the weight of Marcus’ scrutiny when the other looked at him more closely, and Jesus, he did the exact opposite of handling it well when the appraisal seemed to run past his face to the spread of his shoulders. Don’t blush, for the love of God.

“What position?”

The question caught Oliver off-guard, because his mind immediately went to places that it quite definitely wasn’t supposed to go while he was in public (I can think of lots of those), and the dark-haired barista (and incipient physiotherapist, apparently) could have easily chosen a better way of wording that. Was that deliberate? He couldn’t tell. Marcus’ expression was unreadable besides the smile and the tilted head. It was impossible to work out whether the other had spotted his preoccupation and decided to mess with him. If he did, game on. “Any number of positions, really, but I’m currently playing keeper,” he said, opting to accompany the words with a grin of his own, daring to put just a little flirtation behind the remark. When he heard a slight spluttering sound from further down the counter, he didn’t need to look to know that Susan had caught the gist of what he was implying, and he cringed because he’d honestly forgotten she was there at all. However, it was Marcus that sent her on the retreat with a truly impressive glare that made her disappear back into the stockroom, while Oliver wished for the ground to swallow him up as promptly as possible.

“I play striker, sometimes.” The conversation had turned back to football, and Oliver was thankful for it. Plays and strategies, he could discuss until light turned to dark, even if he was meant to be wrangling his way through the textbook still in his hands. Apparently Marcus’ attention span was much better than his, because in the time that they’d been talking, he’d still managed to make Oliver’s drink and mark the current page in his own textbook, tucked covertly beneath the counter as it generally was. To Oliver’s surprise, he smiled again, but this time there was an obvious edge of embarrassment to it. “Just realised I’m being a bit of an idiot, by the way. I’m Marcus; don’t recall ever telling you that.” When he came out from behind the counter, Oliver then got his first good look, up close, at exactly how the other dressed. A faded band t-shirt and a pair of dark, rumpled jeans that clung to all the right places. When the other offered his hand out awkwardly and Oliver closed fingers around his for the handshake, he grinned again. “Good to meet you properly. I’ll see you in our lecture, I guess. I’d better get back to work.” When he met the other’s eyes as they released grip, however, the brush of their fingers lingered and he wasn’t immune to the spark of that touch, far from it. Whoa. The other didn’t need to know that he’d already been fully aware of his name before now. “Yeah, you too. See you later.” And with that, they parted ways, Marcus back behind the counter, Oliver returning to his usual seat with coffee in one hand, textbook in the other, and quite probably a really stupid smile on his face like he’d just been hit between the eyes.

What Marcus also didn’t need to know was that his small, ridiculous crush had gone from mildly out of hand to completely insane in the span of about ten minutes, if that.

This is really not a good thing. What am I going to do about this?

[writesandramblings]

The Captain’s Secret - p.31

“Nemo Sum Game”

A/N: In my sleep-deprived state I accidentally splinched a few paragraphs that were supposed to be in the previous chapter from the draft, so if you read it when it was first posted, go back a chapter and Ctrl-F "family" for the missing section.

Title is a triple play on words: nemo sum, Latin for "I am no one"; a zero-sum game is a situation in which each participants gain or loss is exactly balanced by the gain or loss of the other participants; Captain Nemo was the commander of the Nautilus.

Additionally, worth noting that adult content does exist for this chapter and several other recent ones (Serot, more Billingsley, Sollis, and Sollis and Caxus), but I'm currently still in such a rush that I'm skipping writing it to try and get the Buran section of the story wrapped up before this Sunday's episode. I promise I'll indicate when this content is ready and available, and then you'll be able to find out the exact details of how that alarm got tripped, if you're so inclined!

Full Chapter List Part 1 - Objects in Motion << 30 - Exit Strategy 32 - Home >>

When he arrived, her head was poking out of the vat and she was blue again, chatting merrily away with Yoon. For a moment, he was very happy, and then almost instantly he was very, very angry. She did not need to ask to know what he was feeling, because never had anything ever been more clearly written on his face.

He crossed over to the vat in three long strides, elbowed Yoon aside, reached his hands in, grabbed Lalana, and pulled her halfway out. Biomimetic gel clung to her like putty. It felt like partially-congealed pudding under his fingers. He shook her.

"What the hell were you thinking!"

She let out a soft trill, the sound usually associated with alarm or surprise.

"Captain!" said Yoon, grabbing hold of his arm.

"Stay out of this," he snapped at Yoon, then resumed shouting at Lalana. "You were free to go anywhere, do anything! An entire universe of stars to run to and you came back to the one place you're not supposed to be! What the hell, Lalana!"

She trilled again. This was not an adequate level of communication.

"What!"

"Samaritan asked for my help."

Lorca looked at Lalana in utter disgust. "You do not get to blame this on Dr. Li. Don't you dare. I see exactly what you're doing. And if you think I'm going to fall for one of your cleverly-crafted 'repurposed truths'—"

She covered her face with her tail and began knocking her hands together.

"I'm not falling for that, either!" he exclaimed, face contorted with fury.

Yoon was aghast. "Captain!"

"Don't give me that look, lieutenant. This is the lului equivalent of crocodile tears." It wasn't, but it might as well have been.

Thankfully the translators were on full idiomatic settings, not the lower, more literal threshold Lalana preferred, and she understood his meaning perfectly. She squirmed in his hands. Her fur actively pushed back against his fingers. "I'm not lying! She said she needed my help to save Starfleet! I thought I could return the favor and save your people like you saved mine!"

"Save us from what?" Yoon ventured, eager to try and extricate Lalana from what she felt was an unjustified interrogation.

Lorca rolled his eyes and let out a low groaning growl. It was impossible to explain without dropping into a tone that bordered on levity. "Dr. Li is convinced Starfleet is being run by an illuminati shadow cabal."

"What?" went Yoon. From her perspective, this conversation just kept getting weirder and weirder.

"Exactly." Lorca returned his attention to Lalana. Bits of gooey gel were dripping down the outside of the vat. "You fell for that load of crap?"

Lalana's hands stopped tapping and her tail slid up. "So it is not true?"

"Of course it's not true! It's a goddamn conspiracy theory! Crazy people make them up!"

"Why?"

"Because they're crazy!"

Yoon immediately tried to jump to Lalana's defense again. "You can't blame her for not knowing that! How could she know that?"

Lorca looked at Yoon with something akin to wryness. "She could have asked. You like asking questions, don't you, Lalana? What does this mean? Why do humans do that?" The level of mocking derision in his voice bordered on comical. Then he dropped back into anger. "And yet, when Li spins you some yarn about a shadow government, you don't think to ask anyone? That just sounded perfectly right as rain to you?" Cornwell had clearly been right about the dangers of letting Lalana loose into the galaxy.

"She said I could not tell you. Any one of you might secretly be section agents."

"Oh my god," said Yoon, realizing how deep this delusion went. The assistant doctor hadn't just been crazy, she needed serious medical intervention.

"But Gabriel," Lalana continued, "I do not think Samaritan was lying."

"Just because Li believes it doesn't make it true." His arms were beginning to hurt. She probably weighed ninety pounds with all the goo on her. He was going to have to put her down or bring her closer towards him fairly soon or the choice would be made for him.

"Then I will find proof," she said.

"You can't prove something that's not true."

"If I do, then you will forgive Samaritan and forgive me, too."

His arms began to tremble faintly from the strain. Lorca closed his eyes. When he opened them, he had made his decision. Despite the fact she was covered in gel, he drew her close against his shoulder and lifted her free from the vat. He did not release her immediately. "When you put yourself in danger on this ship, it's my responsibility. I don't want to lose anyone else."

For over a month now, Lorca had been operating under the self-imposed delusion Walter Chen's death did not affect him, that he was somehow above the grief and melancholy and doubt of it all. He was not. Morita had made the choice that sent Chen on that mission because Chen had asked to go, but Lorca had signed off on it, and he knew Chen's service record. He knew the service records of everyone on the crew. While there was no one single point of blame, he was the ultimate bearer of responsibility for events on his ship.

Lalana vibrated the gel off the end of her tail into the vat and then put her tail onto his head so the filaments stroked through his hair. Feeling like an interloper, Yoon made her way into the bathroom, the only place she could go.

"How did you even get back on the goddamn ship," he whispered.

"A private shuttle charter flight." There had been a few of those; people avoiding the transporter queue in favor of a trip with a view.

He sighed. She was gooey, but for once, because of the heated nature of the vat, she was warm. "I don't know what to do with you."

"Can you take me to the shower? I am dripping on the floor."

With a short, involuntary laugh, he did as asked.

"You do understand," she said once she was in the shower, "that I was merely in a state of suspension and not going to die? It is possible to survive in suspension for many years."

"Maybe if you and Li had actually gotten some goddamn oversight instead of sneaking around like a pair of bandits, that would have been clear to someone beside you!" He turned the water on, full blast, hot, and then assessed the state of his uniform in the mirror, which was not looking good. He made a face as he scraped the biomimetic gel from his neck.

"Allow me, captain," said Yoon, giving him a washcloth and using a second one to assist in removing some of the goo from his tunic.

Lalana stepped out of the shower, dry as a bone. "But we could not include anyone in case the section found out."

"I don't want to hear another word about that shadow cabal," he said. It sounded like a threat.

"Very well, but I will prove that they exist."

Lorca groaned loudly and leaned his hands against the vanity counter. "You are not investigating an imaginary shadow cabal in Starfleet. Do you hear me? That's an order."

"Then do I still have my commission as ensign?"

He'd forgotten about that particular joke. "If it'll get you to do what I say for once, then fine."

"Then, aye, sir."

It was something, at least. "Right. I'm going to change. Ensign, you are not to leave these quarters until I say so. Understood?"

"Aye, sir!" At least she liked this little game and seemed eager to play along at being a member of Starfleet. They'd see how long that enthusiasm lasted when she realized the order was sincere.

Six weeks left until decommission.

Given the fact they had already made one unusual stop, Lorca decided it was too much a risk to make another. Someone might begin to suspect something was up. Certainly if reports of a lului suddenly surfaced at the Triton's unscheduled stop, someone would put two and two together. Lalana would be spending the remaining six weeks of the Triton's service life confined to two small rooms until such a time as they could sneak her off with the cargo at Spacedock.

This did not bother her. "I do miss hydroponics, but it is very nice in here. There are many stars outside the window, and a great quantity of music I have not yet listened to."

He scrupulously avoided going to Morita and Yoon's quarters to arouse any further suspicion and kept his contact with Lalana to the comms in his ready room and quarters. He could almost pretend she was somewhere else, on someone else's ship, and not an ongoing issue he was going to have to deal with.

Absent any other meaningful entertainment, she queried him as to the events of his day, listened to any complaints, and offered her own pithy, fortune-worthy insights, like "even a captain cannot always control the crew that he commands" and "the ground is an ocean you can walk upon."

Unloading his day on her was fun. She stood completely outside Starfleet's command structure, had immense patience, and never once suggested anything he talked about was unimportant in the grand scheme of things, even when sometimes it was. About the worst thing he could accuse her of was occasionally providing too much of an echo chamber. She sometimes provided an alternate perspective in a gently supportive manner, but more often she seemed to want to try to see things from his perspective and support his views on any given topic.

With one exception. She remained determined to investigate Li's insane theory. He did his best to warn her off it. "You can get into real trouble if you start sticking your nose into Starfleet's business. I'm serious, Lalana. They could have you arrested."

"Ah, like Venel and Egarell? For how long?"

He threw a number out. "Eighty years!"

"That is not so bad."

He stood there for several moments, staring into space with his hands in the air in confusion, wondering what precisely it took to get her to take any part of this seriously. "Eight hundred years?" he tried.

"Now that is something more approaching a punitive length of time!" she clicked at him.

She was not taking it seriously at all. "They'll send you back to Luluan."

She went quiet. Then, "That is not funny."

"My point exactly. Take this seriously."

Finally, she said, "I will not look into it because it seems to upset you that I would. Will that suffice?"

"That'll do very nicely. You promise?" There was silence. His voice dropped into a warning tone. "Lalana."

"I cannot promise not to look into it forever, but, for as long as it concerns you, I will not."

That seemed to be as much guarantee as he was going to get. Fair enough. He couldn't stop her wasting her time or getting into trouble her entire life, not given the length of it. At some point, he'd be dead.

On the one hand, her almost constant irreverence surely constituted some form of character flaw, but on the other, more often than not their conversations ended up in laughter.

"You are the worst," he said to her late one night, after she attempted a series of rather juvenile knock-knock jokes she had apparently gotten from the ship's databanks.

"And you are the best, which balances out quite nicely."

He quietly smiled to himself, glad she could not see his face, and retorted, "Flattery will get you nowhere."

"But flattery and a starship can take you very far!" He couldn't decide whether to laugh or groan at that, so he did both.

They were ten days out from D-Day, which was what the crew had taken to calling their pending release from the dingy old halls of the Triton, when he walked into his quarters and discovered Lalana sitting in the middle of his bed. He slammed his fist to lock the door behind him. "How did you get in here!"

"Da Hee and Reiko would like some time to themselves now, so I thought I could stay the night with you. Do not worry, no one saw me arrive."

He smeared a hand across his face. "That's not what I mean. This door was locked. Did Morita..."

"Einar helped me."

Ten days left in his commission. The Swede had a funny idea of how best to leave a lasting impression. It was clever, though. What was Lorca going to do, throw him in the brig for ten days for breaking into the captain's quarters? People would ask why. Lorca didn't want people asking questions.

He contemplated calling Morita and Yoon to come pick Lalana up, but that seemed a little cruel, given that they'd been hosting Lalana in their quarters for two months and probably deserved that alone time. It didn't add up, though. Morita would have asked him before pawning Lalana off. "Where does Reiko think you are?"

"With Dr. Ek'Ez."

"And Ek'Ez thinks you're with..."

"Einar."

"Then you can go back to Einar's quarters."

"Nnnnnn," she went. "But I do not want to go to Einar's quarters. I want to stay with you. I will repurpose a truth if it will help. Come, tell me about your day."

He crossed his arms and shook his head. "You're more trouble than you're worth."

"I think you'll find that's not the case, if you'll come join me."

The comms beeped. "Benford to captain."

"Stop, stop!" went Lorca, sitting up and gasping for breath. "Captain here."

"Is... is everything all right, captain? There was a report of screaming from your quarters?"

Quarters were supposed to provide noise isolation for privacy. It was likely they had tripped an internal monitoring alarm. Lorca bit down on his fist and hastily collected himself. "Nope, I'm fine, Jack, everything's fine."

Lalana stuck her tongue out and flattened it against her eye to keep from laughing.

"...Are you sure, sir?"

"I'll try not to make so much noise. Lorca out."

Lorca and Lalana sat shock still. Then they burst into laughter, a fearsome combination of clicks and deep, booming guffaws. "I can't, I just can't. How did you even think to do that?"

"Sollis explained the biology and standard techniques, and then it was a simple matter to figure out how to lelulallen the right cells." He was never going to view lelulallen quite the same.

"Sollis?"

"Yes, we speak every day."

Lorca blinked several times and then flopped back onto the bed. He had not realized Lalana was talking to other people over the comms. "Remind me to send her a fruit basket." He chuckled some more.

"And how did that compare to Billingsley?"

"That wasn't even on the same planet."

"How could it be? We are on a starship."

Lorca batted her lightly with his hand in admonishment. "I need a shower."

When he returned, damp and mostly recovered, he found her poking around the bedroom, opening the storage areas built into the walls. "What do you think you're doing?"

Another human would have jumped or reacted in some way reflecting the fact they had been caught snooping, but Lalana did not have the same understanding of private space and failed to register any wrongdoing. "I am learning all of your items."

"Learning them, or licking them?" he shot back.

She trilled her tongue at him. "I have learned now not to lick things around humans! But yes, I did lick a few. This looked like it had been alive, but tasted wrong." She pointed her tail at a pair of leather shoes. They were synthetic, of course.

There wasn't really anything overly incriminating in his quarters (and certainly she was the last one to pass judgment on anything, being largely ignorant of human social mores), so he let her rummage, answering questions periodically, until she made her way back around to the bed. "And I was wondering about this book." It was his copy of Twenty-Thousand Leagues Under the Sea. "Why do you keep it next to your bed?"

"Well, this, this isn't just a book. I know you thinks books are flat and not worth your time, but, come here. Maybe this one'll surprise you." She hopped up onto the bed beside him. He picked up the book, the worn texture of its cover a familiar comfort, lay down, and opened it to the first page exactly. "Chapter one, A Floating Reef. In the year 1866 the whole maritime population of Europe and America was excited by an inexplicable phenomenon..." Lalana curled up contentedly besides him and they were soon aboard the Abraham Lincoln with Pierre Aronnax, Conseil, and Ned Land.

Morita looked over the nightly security logs. Stress alarm triggered in the captain's quarters? She cleared her throat, signaling Lorca to come to the security console, and pointed to the log. "Dare I even ask?"

"No, you may not," said Lorca, reaching past her and deleting the offending record from the system.

Part 32

[sanguinesprout]

Therapy/Counselling diary #8 (my memory is baaad plus some general frustrations and encouragements)

This past week was kinda hmm... nyeeeeh. I wouldn't say I did anything particularly exciting or new or memorable and I was kinda sickly but it wasn't bad bad and that's all that matters ^^ My memory is bad bad baaaaad in other words, same as usual lol

I’ve decided I’m gonna try to write this weeks (or well, last weeks) stuff using the tumblr app this time, I haven't really used it much, but it's been pretty neat so far aka I cba to clear my desk and use the pc. My typo rate is srsly v. high tho and I wanna shorten the words cuz phone typing and effort but I think I actually type about the same speed with my phone as I do on the PC hah... If only I could read back the text and edit stuff easier as I go along though... oh welp. (Whoa phew, I thought I accidentally posted it by accident lulz the app gives a 'it posted' notification when I save it as a draft what even lol)

This weeks counselling app was... pretty alright, though I'm feeling the pressure and the nerves more now because as predicted I am expected to try even more harder with the communication and skill learning stuff for next time and I really arghhh xwx I only just got over the last wall and the next one seems way more difficult to scale... but I think I can do it... I just need to push away the unhelpful thoughts and persist..! >^<

So that sheet about emotions and thoughts I had to do... I only managed to write two small things but it's something at least, we didn't actually look over it this session because we were still looking at the unhelpful behaviour sheet from last last time which was a slight relief but I still have the sheet now and need to fill it by next week xwx

The behaviour we went over was to do with comparing yourself to others and I really can't remember a lot of the things that was said gdi... maybe I'll just bullet point some of the important stuff and the rest will come back to me easier... and so I don't forget even more lol I'm just feeling extra lazy and unmovtivated hahaha.. ugh @v@"

🍰 Every person has their own views on things/their own way of doing or reacting to things and there is no right or wrong way in essence. Like baking a cake, one person may use so and so ingredients and the other such and such or even something that seems pretty unconventional but they both still result in cakes. Another person may prefer the taste of cake 1 over 2 and another person cake 2 over 1. No one is wrong in their choices, it’s just personal preference.

🥞 All professions work together in harmony and are necessary to make up and keep up a society. There is no need to be ashamed of or think lowly of your profession because it is just as important (eg. trash collector people, some people might think lowly of them but without them there would be a mess of vermin and disease etc etc as juxtaposed with another profession like a doctor which is usually thought highly of).

🍕 The only way to break the cycle is by doing. Doing will provide you with the experience and evidence needed to override your negative presumptions and this in turn will allow you to get past the things holding you back and grow. Your beliefs should run on facts and not irrational thoughts which probably hold no truth at all. 

🍔 Like reading a book, you only know as much as you've read (your current and past experiences and beliefs), but there is still so much left to learn and absorb if you push forward and continue. The parts you haven't read yet (future experiences and knowledge etc) may be the positive and powerful parts needed to neutralise and flip back the negative beginning chapters.

🍝 You live in a place where freedom and choice is encouraged and accepted (unlike some other places in the world where people live under strict control), so why would you willingly choose to cage yourself in with all these rules and restrictions..? (T^T Idk why... but I don’t want to no more that’s for sure!)

🍦 Everything you do should be for your own approval and not anyone else’s. It’s your life and your choices, not theirs. Your own opinions matter most and your own wellbeing should be your priority. Do it all for yourself.

🍩 I would really like a doughnut right now, damn. I can’t have any of these foods rn cause of my diet lolol... they’re unhealthy anyways ^^”

These are some really awfully phrased retellings of the stuff the counsellor told me, but that’s basically all I can remember right now but they give very interesting and useful views on things. Normally I would rephrase them even more or not include the examples but w/e I need to stop being so afraid, just get it all down nice and straightforward and truthful! Yeah, I could've just used the actual bullet point formatting but food emoji is much more exciting of course :D I literally can’t think anymore about last week, I’m just so overwhelmed with this week, my head hurts with the mental effort x^x I decided to go back to using the pc, the app is good for brief things only I guess.

In terms of doing something brave or well out of my comfort zone, I walked down a few streets on my own and went to collect some post. It’s something I’ve done before (though not completely on my own) but I still had a hella awkward time at the desk cause the queue was kind of jumbled and idk if the person before me was actually someone that came after, I thought maybe they were an employee and went behind them instead or maybe they skipped in front idk ugh... I really suck at looking and remembering people’s faces sometimes.

If I wanted to go somewhere else on my own my parents would probably not let me go and my dad would lecture me all the safety things even more than usual (seriously, I get the don’t talk to strangers type of line every single time..!). I’m not a child, I shouldn’t have to ask for permission and this time I didn’t ask, I just said where I was going and why and left but if I tried that to go anywhere else then they’d get ruffled. But the main thing is the communication again I guess, as long as they are informed, it’ll lessen the stress and make them more open to me taking my own initiative. 

Like I understand they want me to be safe, it’s what parents do and I obviously don’t want to run into any trouble too, but sometimes being too overprotective and overly cautious means I’m just stuck and can’t grow at all. It just goes to make me even more scared of the world, when I should be out there doing things like everyone else, it sucks. 

I know in parents eyes, their daughters and sons will always be their kids, their babies, but at some point they will see them as adults too and well, that just isn’t happening for me. I haven’t proven myself worthy of the adult title and I also feel I don’t deserve it yet, it seems a long way off still but it feels so ridiculous, but what is age but just a number anyways, everyone goes at different paces. I shouldn’t dwell on this too much and just try my best to prove to myself, yes myself first and foremost, that I can be an adult, I can be responsible and independent at least a little more. I need a better action plan really... besides the vague, get a job, learn to drive, cook etc. idk what else @^@” I’m getting a little ahead of myself with even this though, gotta not forget, take things slow and gradually, baby steps!! ^^

In my other endeavours with art and posting things online, it’s just come to a stand still or gone backwards actually, I’ve just gotten so scared again, I can’t put a pen to paper or even leave a comment on other people’s stuff anymore and it feels really awful, like why can’t I just do it and forget about feeling foolish or judged or inadequate, I keep overthinking again gdi..!! >^< I keep wanting to plan things and have things all perfect and ready instead of just getting things done as I go like other people... damn, I keep saying like other people, constantly comparing myself to them, that’s another reason I’ve gotten scared to try again with anything. 

Gosh, these unhelpful habits are for reals and are the worst, at least I’m more aware of them though, maybe I can fight them back a bit better now that I know how draining and evil they are... Okay! I challenge you unhelpful habits!! Imma throw you in the trash and get my ass moving! You’ve got nothing on me! I can do it!! Ugh... ;^; No no, no sad! Fight fight fight! Go go go! ò^ó

My sis got me a lot of gifts relating to art, she encourages me through this and her kind words and wants me to do well, I want me to do well too and to show my gratitude with action, so imma do well and make a lot of nice arts to be proud of! They don’t have to be perfect! I saw a quote that was something like ‘even the pages on your bad days are better than the ones on the days you did nothing’ (I just totally butchered that lol) or something like that and it was like, damn, that’s true. A little practice even if it’s not serious is better than nothing at all! Okay okay I’m pumped!

The stuff I had to do this week is to help out at the front of the shop, gain some experience and converse with customers..! I already attempted it once for a short time and welp, it was scary but I guess not that bad (also I kinda botched up a phone order maybe) but I keep reading into things too deeply and negatively and it scared me off and now as usual the week is ending and my opportunities to try are limited, need to get my ass in gear, c’mon I can do it! Don’t be afraid, you’re doing well, keep going! ^^”... go go go! ^u^

Maybe I can kill 2 birds with one stone, sit and observe but also draw, space is limited though so idk if it’ll work out but there’s no harm giving it a try I guess. Must not forget to fill in that emotions/thoughts sheet ugh, I should have done it as I actually do stuff but I do things in bad and unconventional ways. Need to break a lot of habits. I downloaded this app that is supposed to help you build new healthy habits, so far all it’s wanted me to do is to drink water when I wake up so I feel more energised lol but I did it and it does help, I wonder if I can build a lot of other good habits too, it certainly makes things feel more fun in a way.

Everyday in my mind I want to look over the days happenings in a more positive light and congratulate myself for all the small things I did that I maybe I wouldn’t have some weeks ago, so I can see how much I actually improved and have put effort in. Even though on the surface it just all seems meh, I want to let myself see how things have actually become a little easier and how the negative thoughts relating to them has begun to affect me less and take up less space in my conscious. Be proud of yourself and all your endeavours, silly!

Hmm, this post is probably shorter than my usual one but oh well, I don’t want to spend too much time rambling or ruminating or being a paralysed perfectionist, I’ve got other bigger fish to fry! And draw and eat omnomnom! Yolo! x3

Okay okay, now I’m going to go do some artsy fartsy stuff or at least have myself set up for it and my conversing/experience gaining challenge hoo! Believe in yourself, you can do it! Let’s go go! :D

Have a lovely evening and keep trying, keep flying! ^^