#i've been having problems getting the image to not be blurry and nothing I do seems to work but I hope this one I uploaded reads ok!

[retellingthehobbit]

I went to read your comic on Ao3 and I noticed you'd started back in 2020. Aside from your clear and beautiful art progression, what can you tell me about the timeline of your comic?

Thank you! And yes, started this webcomic in January of 2020. “I sure hope nothing bad happens in 2020 that will hamper my ability to focus on a large personal project!” — me in January 2020 with all the naivety of youth. Top ten images taken minutes before disaster. This comic is like a deeply personal diary of my mental state, complete with the long empty hiatuses that are sort of like that part of Twilight where months of depression are represented by blank pages.

One of my favorite things about webcomics is how you can often see an artist’s style grow organically over time. I think it’s something that’s getting lost in the age of “Webtoon Originals,” where people are starting to expect webcomics to be produced by an actual production studio with a team of artists behind them and to maintain a consistent highly curated art style throughout. These professionally funded comics are fun, but they do lose the messy personal organic growth that used to separate webcomics from traditional print comics? But i could go on a whole tirade about webtoon haha 😂 !

The Hobbit is partially a story about someone learning how to express themselves. Bilbo starts the story as this stuffy little guy who is repressing a lot his own personality; he ends the story as a skilled artist writing elaborate prosy poetry about his adventures. I deliberately chose to start drawing the comic before I went to college, knowing my art style would change a lot of over that period!

Anyway here's the timeline as I remember it: Pre-development: I was working on sketches of the comic itself as early as 2016. Chapter 1 (A Bedtime Story/Tooks and Bagginses): (Posted on Tumblr in January 2020, on Ao3 later): Published shortly before I went to college. I was drawing in Paint Tool Sai, and hand-writing all the words instead of using a font. I set out to adapt at least the Unexpected Party chapter, but thought I'd probably adapt the entire novel within a year or two. ("It's a webcomic Michael. How long could it take? twelve months?") Chapter 2: (A Very Respectable Hobbit): Posted like a week after Chapter 1. This was when I still thought I could post a ten page chapter every week, haahahahahahahahahaha Fs in the chat.

HIATUS #1: DANCE BREAK: TIME FOR A GLOBAL PANDEMIC. The exact timeline of 2020 is a blur for obvious reasons, but I do remember the updates became very sporadic over this period. Chapter 3-5 (Very Old Friends and An Unexpected Party chapters): there’s a global pandemic. During Spring Break my college abruptly kicks us all off campus and sends us home. I keep looking at the “post dates” on these chapters like what??? Really? I posted that at thAt time? But there was a global pandemic happening and I was so busy and overwhelmed with college???? When did I have the time? I have no memory of drawing these. My memories of all 2020 are so blurry. I think these chapters just manifested spontaneously.

The weekly/biweekly update schedule has been tossed to the wind, never to return. Alas. Chapter 6 (An Enormously Important Dwarf, aka Thorin’s intro): I was back “at college” during our “hybrid” year, so in practice I was extremely isolated. this was posted during a year after the first chapter, in 2021. I would never have found the motivation to continue if I wasn't so excited to draw Thorin! I also joined a "comic club" at my college which was comprised mainly of awkward video calls with like three people. On a weirder note, this chapter was posted a few weeks after the January 6th attempted coup. I was drawing in a a weird headspace.

DANCE BREAK #2: IT’S TIME FOR A YEAR LONG HIATUS:

I've started to often dislike the word “burnout” when it’s applied to art. It implies that the problem is that you were drawing too much or that you can’t find inspiration, when often the problem is much bigger than your art-- it's wider economic anxieties and social circumstances outside your control. It is very hard to think clearly and create things when you are worried about your future, about work, about housing, about a global pandemic, about constant demands on your time, and about being extremely isolated. In hindsight, I wasn’t “burned out”— I was in a situation where I could not think clearly or produce anything. Chapter 7 (The Lonely Mountain): posted a full year after chapter 6. For a while I considered having this be the “last chapter” of the comic!

Changing art styles was a thing I was really motivated to do, and was my last “bucket list” item for the comic.

HIATUS #3: I get really busy with junior year of college! I grow more and more disillusioned with Tolkien as I learn more about The Hobbit Law crushing labor unions and worker's rights in New Zealand, and how Amazon takes advantage of that. The Tolkien Estate also releases a statement saying they disapprove of any unauthorized use of Tolkien's works for profit or not, which isn't really legally enforceable but is also just an act of pure contempt XD. Chapter 8 (A Tangled Web): I get sent to the emergency room in an ambulance for Reasons and begin drawing this in the weeks after, as I realize I don't care about the Tolkien Estate or Amazon or Warner Brothers or whatever hollow marketable products they produce under the tolkien brand. I think this is the weakest chapter of the comic, both in writing and art, and in hindisght think the comic works better without it pacing-wise. However!!!! I was drawing it in a weird mental state, so. XD

Also, at this point I am drawing entirely in Photoshop. Chapter 9 (Ash and Smoke): Back at college for senior year— time for dragon! The comic starts updating with something that resembles a "regular schedule!" this year had more and more people on campus in person, and I started to slowly make college friends :). Also, at this point I am the President of the comic club, and we are now meeting in person and rebuilding our comic empire. Chapter 10 (The Heart of the Mountain): Some funky bits of writing I'd like to revise at some point, but I enjoy the art in this chapter. Chapter 11 (Polite Nothings): If I were to do this all again I'd shorten this chapter and combine it with chapter 12. One important note is that originally, I tried to keep all chapters under ten pages. This made it easier to post them to Instagram and Tumblr, because tumblr still had a “ten image limit” at the time. However at some point I realized that was more trouble than it was worth, and really made the pacing difficult/slow as I struggled to split the story into ten page chunks.

A lot of webcomics often fall into what I call a “wheel-spinning” phase, where the author is so focused on finishing smaller updates that they lose the pacing of the larger narrative—- and so the story stalls out. I feel like I dealt with a lot of “wheel-spinning” while I was at college, both in my life and in my comic XD. Chapter 12 (The Quest): My internship company gives me an offer to work full-time, which I accept. in the last semester of my last year of college, I take the most helpful elective class I have ever taken: a class on using 3D models in blender to aid with blocking out illustrations. This is the first chapter where you see one of those backgrounds! From this point on my background art will improve dramatically. I also have lots of internet friends and college friends!

As I grow more confident in my art I also make the decision to change the character designs, something I’d wanted to do for a while. Chapter 13 (The Necromancer): I graduate college! It's time for some Lotte Reiniger art. I stay in my student housing until my lease ends. The art starts to grow more elaborate as I have more time to spend on it. Chapter 14 (Terms and Conditions): my summer is free, so I spend it drawing gay little hobbits. I move up North to live with my grandmother until my work start date. This is the very last “normal-sized” chapter of the comic, where I hold myself to keeping it under 10 pages. I also think this is where my new more elaborate character designs actually start to look a lot better XD.

I was finishing up apartment-hunting at this time, so both Bilbo and I were goin over contract terms. Chapter 15 (Unattached): summer free time!! More gay little hobbits. I move into my New apartment and sleep on an air mattress for a while. I have a lot of time to draw and the art gets far more complex; this chapter was also twice as long as my usual chapters. I am still proud of this chapter, honestly, even though it's gotten less attention than Chapter 16/17-- it's one I'd been excited to draw for a while. A lot of this chapter was drawn on my beautiful powerful beloved air mattress. Air mattress, my beloved. Chapter 16 (the Song of the Lonely Mountain): I start my new job! I get a BED. Lots of exciting things are happening. I was really excited to draw and post this chapter, because it’s one id been dreaming about drawing from the beginning-- it was surreal to see it "posted" because part of me never thought I'd get this far. I even started a tiktok and posted the chapter there, certain that people would enjoy it. However, tiktok basically ignored it, alas! This is why tumblr is the only social media site. Chapter 17: I continue my new job. My roommate surprises me with the news that they will move out at the end of our lease, making me realize that months have somehow passed. I make a post asking for anyone looking for roommates in Milwaukee to contact me via dms (that offer is still open, if you’re looking to move here in early June.) I privately am very confused about why anyone would ever want to leave a comfortable settled home to go off on an adventure and then realize that I am behaving exactly like pre-quest Bilbo Baggins.

Chapter 18: the chapter I am working on now!!! Another chapter I have been excited to draw forever!! It’ll feature studio-Ghibli-inspired backgrounds, exciting landscape art, and so much fun! I’ve also started a Patreon where, if you want to see “one page a week” instead of “twenty pages every Mystery number of Months” you can subscribe there. (The first page of Chapter 18 has already been posted!)

But yeah! The TL:DR:

I think the moral of all this (to me) is that it’s hard to make art if you’re just not in a position to do it, and you have to allow yourself time to grow and change as a person XD. Sometimes you need to spend a few years thinking and getting better before you're ready to go on an Adventure. I started this comic when I was very Young and Naive to the Ways of the World. The quality (and dips in quality) reflect my wildly fluctuating mental/emotional states while trying to draw each chapter in the midst of a global pandemic. My art has improved a lot lately, and I think a large part of it is really just being in a situation where I *can* improve— having a decent job, not being in the middle of a global pandemic with no vaccine in sight, not needing to live in constant fever-pitch anxiety, having friends, etc etc. I am completely different person now than I was while drawing chapter 1.

Not to be dramatic, but I think you can see there’s a lot more joy in the recent chapters than there is in some of the older ones. It's weird to look at your art and realize you've gotten happier. XD

[walkedfire]

@walkeddeath continued from here

the idea that it was his fault had long since been ingrained into him . it never much mattered what it was . it was never obvious , not until he was older . not until he needed therapy . that the way he took on the problems of the people around him wasn't normal . but death , his death . it was different .

it had been a month since he left the hospital , and yet in his mind it still feels like yesterday . he sees the reminders if it everywhere . from the way people are more careful around him , how there's a certain look in people's eyes now .

the heavy feeling sits in his chest , he can't really talk about it . not to the others at least . he tries to avoid it when talking to gen . it's not on purpose , at least not at the start . but as the days went by buck found himself avoiding it , like a bad memory he wanted forget . but he couldn't .

the visions he saw when he slept . unsure if they where either nightmare or dream , or perhaps both . but like most things he couldn't keep it in for long . it came tumbling out after too many nights of disturbed sleep . his mind stuck between the waking world and the other .

the sudden brightness of the bedside lamp makes him cringe , blinking at the change in darkness . it takes him a moment before he can turn his head finding gen's gaze . as usual its filled with nothing but kindness and love . a small part of him is ashamed . he tries to ignore the voice telling him he doesn't deserve it . and instead lets himself reach out . fingers tangling together he brings them close to his chest where his heart beats wildely underneath .

" i had a dream ," he says out of the blue . buck can't finish the sentence as he looks at gen . their face filled with nothing but concern and love and determination . he knows they want to say more , he's heard the speech before . and a small part of him hates himself for not being able to just accept it . he wishes he could . but logically buck knows it will take years to undo the trauma his parents gave him .

swallowing the lump in his throat he turns his gaze away , fixing his eyes on the chair in the corner of the room instead . he does however move closer , bodies pressed together . a sign that he isn't pulling away , but that he needs time . " the days leading up to it . i kept having the same dream over and over ." he never much talks about his dreams .

there are nightmares he's shared with gen . about the truck , the tsunami , the words his parents spat at him in a moment that would forever change him . but not this . not his dreams .

" i've had it before . when he first met . it wasn't so clear back then , but over the years . its like a blurry image coming into focus . i don't get it a lot . maybe a couple times a year ... " buck hesitates . he feels like the next words might change everything , or they might mean nothing at all .

" but the days leading up to my deat- leading up to it , it kept happening . every night . a corridor , you're there . and i can hear the lightning . you've never spoken to me before in it . it's always just been a faceless shape , a feeling . but i heard you then , so clearly." he looks up then , eyes finding hers . he needs gen to know how serious he's being , how important those words in a dream meant to him .

" you told me not to make him angry , that what we where doing would get us in trouble . and i told you i didn't care , that he tried before but he couldn't stop me loving you . and - and then i heard it again as i was climbing the ladder . like you where warning me . but i didn't care . i could feel it as i was climbing . i could feel his anger , taste it ? but it was too late by then."

[lillupon]

So, I've got a very long rant/opinion here and Idk really know how to say this without coming off kinda bad but I'm gonna say it anyways. I agree with the fact that the seventeen tag has been kinda dry lately on most fanfic places, but it's really only in the smut area. It's the sane way with other groups too I feel like. All of the nice little innocent tags are boomin to this day and thats completely fine. I think the smut tag is dry tho bc lately I feel like a few social issues (like sexualizing people and disrespecting them and their identity) have crossed over into kpop and have been ?blown out of proportion? Lately there's been a rampage of people who like to say that writing smut about someone is disgusting and is dehumanizing because people want to assume that it would make the idols uncomfortable which could equate to some morality issues on how you are reducing someone only to their body without their consent and a bunch of stuff like that. It kind of pisses me off bc this is fiction. About grown adults. Clamping down on horny people who simp over hot asian men isn't going to solve the issues we face in real life. I think a shit ton is wrong with the world we currently live in, and deciding to come after something that isn't even real bothers me. Like what does that actually accomplish. But yeah, I think thats a reason why smut has been dying down. I mean, on youtube almost every video about unpopular opinions, or things they dont like about kpop will include something about shipping idols in fanfics. And then everyone in the comment section will talk about how its all fine and dandy in moderation, but once people start writing smut it's crossing the idols personal boundaries. It's something I've been seeing a lot more often and I think people who are interested in writing smut are being turned away from it bc we've gotten to a point where people are being called disgusting for having fantasies.

Hi Anon, thank you for sending in this Ask. 

I want to preface this by saying: when I write or talk about Mingyu and Wonwoo fucking on my blog, it is a fantasy. I am not speculating about what the real Mingyu and Wonwoo might be like in bed. I am imagining the versions of Mingyu and Wonwoo that I have created in my head, that exist only in my stories. None of it is real. I understand that this can be a blurry boundary for some people. But for me, the separation between fantasy and reality is well-defined. Now, on to your Ask!

You’ve hit the nail on the head with this one. You’ve also touched on many of the issues I have been struggling with myself as of late. It’s difficult to argue about morals since everyone has a different set of values, as well as different comfort levels. Some people think real person fiction (RPF) is a gross invasion of privacy. Others are fine with it. And others don’t care one way or another. There is no single answer; I can only offer my answer. Which means, of course, people are welcome to disagree with it, or parts of it. 

In this essay (LOL But forreal: this is an essay), I will be sharing my experience in the k-pop fanfic community from 2014 to present, the etiquette I personally abide by as a reader and writer of RPF, as well as my stance on RPF in general.

I started reading and posting fanfics back in 2014/2015 on a website called AsianFanfics (AFF). Obviously, no one on that site had a problem with RPF, since AFF is a platform made specifically for sharing stories about Asian celebrities. For many years, I read and enjoyed RPF with zero guilt. I scribbled away by myself in my own corner of fandom and curated my own content. I didn’t interact much with other fans, readers, or writers. I didn’t have a Twitter, and I only used tumblr to reblog memes. As a result, I’ve been able to avoid a lot of anti-shipping discourse, as well as purity and cancel culture. I had no idea there were so many negative opinions about RPF. It wasn’t until I became active on the subreddit r/Fanfiction last year that I learned about all the discourse surrounding RPF. 

This newfound ‘awareness’ does make me feel guilty at times—but only because after mulling this over, I still don’t think this is something to feel guilty about.

Here’s what I remember, first and foremost, when I create and consume RPF: fanfics and my favourite ships are fictional, and fiction is fantasy. This is basic etiquette when it comes to RPF, and most people in the k-pop fandom understand this. Delusional fans exist, of course, but they are not representative of the entire k-pop community. 

Another point of etiquette is to keep fanfics within fandom spaces. I would never push my fics into celebrities’ faces, or go around claiming that my fanfics are accurate representations of a k-idol’s life or personality, in any way, shape, or form. I would also discourage directing ship-related questions to official accounts, or bringing them up during fansigns or other face-to-face interactions; I believe that in these instances, shipping does have the potential to strain real-life relationships.

So with basic etiquette out of the way, let me share my approach to RPF in general.

As much as we like to think we know our favourite celebrities, we really don’t. All we see is their public persona. And this public persona is intentionally controlled, managed, and curated by a team of people: directors, tabloids, editors, makeup artists, publicists, etc. How “real” are these celebrities? We are so distanced from them that they may as well be fictional.

I draw from the public persona that idols project, and I work them into my own writing. But at the end of the day, these personalities are my own interpretation. My interpretation is probably nothing like an idol’s actual personality. I just use the “public persona/character” that idols portray as inspiration for my own stories, which are set in wildly different universes.

More than anything, I think of k-pop idols as “actors” in my fic. You know how when you write an original novel, you scroll through Google images, looking for the perfect person to portray your original character? RPF is literally that, except you might build upon pre-existing dynamics and personalities.

When it comes to explicit fanfiction, two main concerns are prevalent: one of consent, and one of sexualisation.

If we argue against explicit RPF due to lack of consent, we should be willing to apply the same lens to all explicit works. How do we know that the creator of a movie, book, series, etc., is okay with us using their characters in our stories, explicit or not? We don’t. Perhaps some creators encourage fanfiction, but don’t want their lovingly crafted characters engaging in sexual acts or experiencing trauma. We just don’t know. I feel this line is even more blurred when we talk about characters from movies or TV series.

Let’s take Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, as portrayed by Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan, from the Captain America movies as an example. I am willing to bet that when people consume and create explicit fanfiction about Steve and Bucky, they are imagining Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan in their heads. I doubt many people are imagining the 2D cartoon versions of Steve and Bucky, even though they’re technically the exact same characters. Why? Well, it could be because movies are more readily and easily consumed than comics, and so people are unfamiliar with comic book Steve and Bucky. But it might also be because fans find Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan attractive. Is this really any different from RPF, where fic authors make up everything about a celebrity’s life?  

When readers and writers of fanfic talk about how hot Steve Rogers or Bucky Barnes is, those comments are about Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan’s bodies. When reading explicit stories, fans are going to picture Chris and Sebastian’s bodies in their head, doing sexual things. Can we say, “Well, it’s not really you, Chris/Sebastian”, when in a way, it is?

The reality is, people are going to thirst over celebrities, regardless of whether or not explicit fanfiction exists. They’re going to post thirst tweets on Twitter. They’re going to talk to friends and strangers online about how hot [insert celebrity name here] is. They’re going to fantasize about dating and having sex with their favourite celebrity. Or, as it is in my case, they’re going to make up stories in their heads about their favourite idols dating and banging each other. People are going to do all of this without ‘getting consent’ from the celebrity. Cracking down upon and shaming writers of RPF isn’t going to change any of that.

To be honest, I’m not sure why people think it is disgusting to imagine sexual scenarios about real people. It is okay and normal to have these kinds of fantasies. I suppose the alternative is to fantasise about having sex with cartoon characters instead? It’s a very binary way of thinking to say that if you imagine/write real people in explicit scenarios, you are immediately sexualising, dehumanising, or objectifying them. There is more to dehumanisation than writing smut about our favourite celebrities. For one thing, you can love someone and appreciate all parts of them, and still want to fuck their brains out. And generally, fanfics come from a place of love—love that is not only sexual in nature.

Is it the sharing aspect inherent to fanfiction? The possibility that a celebrity might stumble upon explicit works about them? The chances are very low, I think, of the k-pop idols I enjoy writing about coming across my English fics. But I also believe in curating your own content, and that applies to celebrities too. Perhaps a celebrity should not go searching for fanfics about themselves. And of course, people should not show celebrities their fanfics, unless invited.

Another argument I hear against (explicit) RPF is, “How would you feel if someone wrote fanfiction about you?” First off, I don’t like this argument because there’s a difference between someone who decides to be a public figure versus someone who decides to remain a regular private citizen. Celebrities should and do know what they’re getting into when they choose their occupation. (This is not to say, “They are celebrities; sexualise them all you want because that’s what they signed up for.” Here, I am only acknowledging that people might have sexual fantasies about celebrities they are attracted to. Presumably, celebrities are cognizant of this.)  

If someone (whose existence I am not even aware of, mind you) decides they want to write explicit fanfiction of me in some tiny corner of the Internet, I wouldn’t care so long as: (1) they don’t shove it into my face, and (2) they don’t harass me and ask invasive questions about my personal life and relationships. It’s not hurting me or negatively affecting my life, so it wouldn’t even register as a blip on my radar. When fanfiction remains within its appropriate spaces, it is largely harmless. 

Now, if a k-pop idol were to ask their fans to stop writing fanfiction about them, would I? Yes, I would. However, I can’t imagine that happening. Judging by the number of ‘sexy’ concepts, fanservice moments, and variety shows such as ‘We Got Married’, I am certain that k-pop idols realise they are the stars of many fantasies—some of which are explicit in nature. Considering the prevalence of shipping in the k-pop industry, I would argue that shipping is subtly encouraged.

It’s sad that so many talented writers are shamed out of fandom, or feel that k-pop cannot be the medium through which they tell their stories, or explore their sexuality, or cope with trauma, or simply have fun. Professional works and Hollywood love their RPF—readers and writers of fanfics should be able to, as well. 

As you said Anon, “clamping down on horny people who simp over hot asian men isn't going to solve the issues we face in real life” (this is a lovely sentence, by the way). The kind of person who dehumanises another and reduces them to a sexual object will do so some other way, if not via fanfiction. I don’t think the issue of fetishisation can be fixed simply by telling people not to write explicit RPF. In my experience, people who read and write RPF are more respectful and thoughtful about these things than the general public. We’ve all seen the general public say highly sexual things about celebrities in the media and to their faces, or tag celebrities in their thirst tweets. Are these things less invasive than fanfiction? Personally, I don’t think so. And in my opinion, there are more pressing and damaging issues in stan culture than fanfic.

In conclusion, I don’t think there is anything wrong with creating and consuming RPF, both explicit and non-explicit so long as we:

Remember we are writing fiction

Keep RPF within its appropriate space, and

Do not harass celebrities about their personal lives and relationships

RPF is not for everyone. There may be people who enjoy RPF, but draw the line at explicit stories. This is fine. Everyone has their own personal preferences. What is not fine, however, is attacking people for creating things you don’t like. I’m not sure what kind of moral crusade people are on and what they hope to achieve by shaming writers of RPF, explicit or otherwise. Ultimately, fic authors are writing a fantasy. It’s not real; no one is being hurt. I think it’s important for people to curate their own content, and AO3 makes it very easy to filter out explicit works and unwanted tags. 

Maybe this is me trying to justify my own participation in explicit RPF—I don’t know. What I do know is that I love k-pop, and fandom is an important part of my media and entertainment experience. I adore the k-pop idols I write about, and I just want to imagine them being happy and getting lots of love and orgasms. Let a bitch be horny, goddamn… 

Some bonus fun facts!

At the time I am writing this, on AO3:

26.2% of Stray Kids fanfics are rated M or E

26.3% of Seventeen fanfics are rated M or E

29.0% of Merlin fanfics are rated M or E

34.9% of Captain America (Movies) fanfics are rated M or E

40.1% of BTS fanfics are rated M or E ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Coincidentally, I saw this post on Reddit this morning: Can we have a RPF positivity post?

[writersparrow]

Colors of Heartbreak

“She’s pregnant with his baby.”

Everything becomes too much after Arya found me face-to-face with Stella and Brad inside the store, and as every sane person would do, I bolted out, with Arya hit on my heels. At that moment I just wanted to escape and pretend that everything was just a big messed up nightmare.

“My Brad’s baby.” A new wave of loud sobs wrenched my feeble body, shaking it to the point that I can no longer feel it.

“Why! Why, Arya!” I wipe the tears after blowing the snot, blocking my airways, “All I want is to be happy with him. Am I not enough? He should have told me so I could give him more,” I wailed, clutching my chest in an attempt to ease the impervious ache I felt.

“Let that be a lesson, Love. It’s never good to put the key to our happiness into someone’s pocket. We should—I mean, people change all the time, Elle.”

“I know but it hasn’t crossed my mind that he’s going cheat on me for another woman.” She smiled sadly at me before engulfing me in her warm embrace.

Holding me at arm's length, she then looked at me in the eye as she tucked her legs under her buttocks.

“Best efforts doesn’t keep a man, Elle. Being always there for him doesn’t keep a man. No matter how pretty, kind, loving, honest, and loyal you are. He will betray you no matter what you do and give. You’re a good, one-of-a-kind woman, Elle but nothing can keep him because the only way to keep a man is if he wants to be kept by you. That’s the truth, Elle. And as much as you love him, you can’t force him to be with you. You can’t beg him to stay with you or undo the feelings that are gone. You can only watch as he moves on with another woman. I’m sorry if this may sound harsh but somehow you have to acknowledge and face it, Elle. And if he truly loves you, he will fight for you when life gets hard and when the future gets blurry for the both of you.”

“But he loves me R, at least that’s what he said every time we made love.” I shrugged my shoulders as I wipe the last of my tears.

Again that small sad smile, “A man truly in love only fights for the woman he wants to be with, and if not then it’s time to let him go.” This hit me hard. Am I ready? As much as I want to hate him, I can’t. I love him too much to plant something so ugly on his image. And besides, I don’t know life without him in it.

I guess she saw it right through me because her hold on my shoulders tightened and her voice turned hard. “You’ve been in love with Brad for a long time, I guess, though you’ve given everything to him and more there’s just this thing he’s been looking for and he saw it in Stella.”

“Can you—can you at least tell me? I've got nothing here. I’m going to change and show him that I deserve him more than her boss.” She shook her head like any other parents would do when they disapprove of their children's actions. I felt desperate with no one to hold on to. Desperation gnawed my insides in the most painful way as it continuously eats my insides and I knew it’s not long before part of me would be dead too.

“Haven’t you heard what I said?” she sounded mad as she shook her head before folding her hands on her lap. “I’m sorry, Elle but he’s no longer the guy you fell in love with. He's changed.” Slap, slap, slap.

“Or maybe he doesn't change but showing his true colors.”

“I know,” I whispered withdrawn and beaten up, feeling the biggest loser in the world for losing the most important person in my life without even knowing it.

“I saw it, you know. The way he looked at her is maddening to watch,” I shrugged, feigning indifference but deep inside I’m howling in pain. It’s probably a mix of jealousy, hurt, and anger because deep inside I know he’s in love with her. Even my subconscious acknowledged it.

“At least have the decency to talk to me and break things off between us.” I sniffle, fighting another downpour of tears threatening to escape from my eyes.

“What about our wedding?” I forced out, needing to hear it.

“I honestly don’t know. He doesn’t say much after I accidentally punched him on the face.” I chuckled, picturing my five-foot-one best friend clocking Brad’s handsome face. “But, I have our PI investigate it before I run after you, I hope you don't mind.”

“How far off is she?” I ask, voice cracking at the end. ‘Not now, Elle. Please don’t break down again for the man that doesn’t deserve your tears.’

“Almost three months.” Arya gulped before averting her eyes away from me. I know she can feel my pain. And as much as I’m hurting right now I know she’s hurting for me too.

“How long?” I braved to ask again. She smiles sadly at me, tucking the loss strands of hair at the back of my ear.

“Three months.” Their relationship is going behind my back longer than I expected.

“And I didn’t suspect anything?” I stated but it came out as a question. Who could have thought? Everything was normal between us. He was never late. Never miss a family dinner. And most especially we’re not lacking in the intimacy department or maybe it’s just me.

'Maybe, that’s the problem. There’s no thrill. It’s normal—it's boring.’

“I’m an idiot. Am I?” she shook her head, no. “You’re not an idiot Elle. You love him and gave him more than he deserves. You can’t push yourself down just because he can’t keep it in his pants. He’s the idiot, not you love.”

“Then what? Just let the man I love go, our memories and everything? Just. Like. That?”

“Don’t hold onto someone who doesn’t want to be kept by you, Elizabeth Morris. It’s not giving up on him, no, it’s him who gave up on you before you could do anything. Elle, it’s you who doesn’t have to waste any more time than you already have on him. Brad doesn’t deserve you, end of the story.”

“I don’t know. I—” I started, wringing my fingers in discomfort, “I love him and I just can't unlove him, R.” I whispered.

“Elle, don’t let your feelings for him make you his prisoner,” She chastised while holding my hands in hers.

“I just can’t believe I invested half of my life on a relationship that’s going to crumble in just a single snap of that wh*re’s thong.” I fumed, gripping a throw pillow on a death grip.

“Then, it’s time for you to walk away.”

•••

[hookedonapirate]

Request prompt?--My SO has just dumped me and I've gotten piss drunk and I've a) drunkenly stumbled into the incorrect bathroom in the midst of ugly sobbing and you either forgot to lock the door or were out in the open and are very concerned about my state. B) somehow managed to get into your room and not my own (whether apartment or hotel) and I'm trying to masturbate my feelings away and boy were you surprised. Cheers!

A Helping Hand

Chapter 1

A/N: So, I couldn’t resist writing scenario B nor could I cram everything into a one-shot so there will be more.

Rated: M

Ch 2

The bar was crowded and loud. And the air was dreadfully thick. It was the last place he wanted to be, but far better than the alternative. Killian shuffled through the crowd, the obnoxious beat playing through the speakers and boisterous chatter doing nothing to numb his thoughts. Every noise was muffled and faded out by the conversation that echoed in his mind like a freight train sounding through the night. Reminding him of the last time he saw her before she walked out and slammed the door, disappearing from his life forever.

Killian plopped down onto a stool, slumping over the bar counter as he waited for the bartender. He just needed something to drown the pain. Something strong.

The argument started with something small, quickly spiraling out of control like gasoline to a fire. He was gone too much, he wasn’t adventurous enough. He didn’t love her anymore. According to Milah. Her tone was laced with anger, eyes devoid of any kind of love… at least any kind of love for him.

What it all boiled down to was that she already knew it was over before it was actually over.

All of the obscenities and excuses she threw at him that night were just a mask. Covering up her betrayal. Everything he thought that he knew was a lie. She was a lie. Her empty promises and scheming attempts of showing him how much she loved him and telling him she was divorcing her husband. It was all just a bloody fantastic charade.

“A rum, please,” he drawled out when the bartender approached. Killian watched him fetch a glass and pour the golden brown liquid from the bottle before sliding it over.

Killian clenched his jaw as he grabbed the glass, the bitter memories of the ungrateful bitch embedded in his brain. He threw back the rum, the wretched sting of alcohol sliding down Killian’s throat as he gulped it down, thinking about how his whole world had turned upside down in a blink of an eye.

He had never seen it coming. He knew there were problems brewing between them after he lost his hand. After his discharge from the hospital. But he thought he had been imagining it all. He refused to accept that she was embarrassed of him for being injured and having to leave the Navy. He refused to believe that she went back to her husband.

He gave up everything for her.

The relationship had caused tension between Killian and his older brother, and eventually the control Milah had over him pushed Liam away. Killian lost the close bond with him because of her. Liam didn’t approve of the relationship from the beginning. He didn’t think she was good enough for his brother.

Milah was married, not even separated with her husband at the time and she had tattoos all over her body. Killian fought with his brother many times about her and they eventually stopped talking to each other all together. All of the days they spent working side by side and serving in the British Navy together, turned into bitter memories. And even though Killian crawled back to Liam on his hands and knees, figuratively speaking, begging for forgiveness and even though Killian was now staying at his flat, he was in much too dark a place to hope that things would go back to the way they were before.

He downed another glass of rum. Then another. And a few more. Slowly drowning out the mixture of rage, anguish, and sadness inside of him until he had the courage to stand on his own two feet. Taking a deep breath, he dragged himself out of the stool. Between the jet lag from the treacherously long flight from England and the buzz that took over him, the sting in his heart was still fresh, but somewhat bearable. Killian maneuvered his way through the bar and stepped outside, the chill of the air waking his senses ever so briefly. He took a cab to his brother’s place, his words slurred as he attempted to give the driver the address. Killian was surprised he even remembered what it was.

~*~

Emma’s phone buzzed on the kitchen counter as she hastily threw her dirty clothes in the basket with a groan. She hated doing laundry on Friday night, but it was the only time when all of the machines weren’t being occupied. And now she was reduced to a pair of grey shorts and a yellow tank top as she retrieved a bottle of laundry detergent from the closet and threw it on the pile. It was rather light but she had at least two more loads left before she had to buy more. Her phone was ringing incessantly against the hard surface but she chose to ignore the call. It was most likely her ex-boyfriend, Neal, trying to get back with her. She’ll check her phone later.

She grabbed her keys from the counter, and took each of the handles of the basket, making her way across the beige carpet to the front door. She tucked the basket in one arm as she turned the knob with her free hand, locking the door behind her. She couldn’t wait to get this over with as she trudged down the hall with determined steps. She walked down the three flights of stairs and unlocked the door to the laundry room.

Entering the empty room, she dropped the basket on the cement floor in front of the washer, relieved that there were a few unoccupied machines. Lifting the lid, she started emptying the clothes into the washer, a mindless task that she always dreaded. While doing so, she noticed that her roommates clothes were mixed in with Emma’s. Elsa was one for accidentally throwing hers in with Emma’s when she had too many for one load. Emma rolled her eyes and tossed them in the washer.

She loved her roommate dearly, but ever since Elsa started seeing the neighbor across the hall, she had been a little distracted. She mostly stayed at her boyfriend’s place, and Emma didn’t know why Elsa didn’t just move in with him. Not that Emma wanted her to. They had become close friends ever since she posted the ad for a roommate two years ago. Emma would be sad to see her move out, even if only across the hall.

Once all of the clothes were transferred, she grabbed the laundry detergent and tipped it over the opening of the machine, pouring in the contents.

Emma’s eyes widened with disbelief when she realized there was hardly a thin stream of the blue liquid left. Elsa must have used the last of it and didn’t bother to replace it before she left for the weekend. Emma started shaking the bottle violently, trying to get every last drop, but it wasn’t nearly enough. Letting out a loud huff, she started unloading the washer, but then stopped. She had another idea. Emma slammed the lid shut and grabbed the basket and her keys, exiting the room. She went upstairs and unlocked her door to deposit the basket in her apartment. Once she set it on the floor, she went back out, shutting the door behind her and making the small trek across the hall.

She had a key to her neighbor’s apartment and he was out of town with Elsa, staying at her sister’s place for the weekend. Surely, he would have some laundry detergent. She unlocked the door and went into the apartment, quickly finding some liquid detergent in the closet and snatching it up. She locked the apartment back up and headed for the stairs, passing the elevator on her way as it opened.

~*~

Killian somehow made it to the third floor, although he had no recollection of how he got from the bar to his brother’s apartment. All he knew was that the door of the elevator was in front of him as it ascended, and he was positive that he would not have survived the stairs. He was now feeling the effects of the rum, his mind unfocused, his eyes lazy and his vision disoriented. He felt dizzy from just watching the elevator doors open.

Now, he just had to find which apartment was Liam’s.

Killian had rarely visited his brother since he moved to New York to begin teaching, and Killian’s stay was very brief before he dropped off his luggage and left for the bar. Liam had already went with his girlfriend for the weekend when Killian’s plane arrived in New York. Liam didn’t even bother to meet him at the airport. He left a key under the doormat. That’s how estranged they had become. Killian was shocked when his brother even agreed to let him stay while he attempted to pick up the pieces from his breakup. He supposed it was because he had told Liam he was no longer with Milah and he wanted to turn his life around.

Stepping out of the elevator, a flash of golden hair passed him. He barely got a glimpse of her face before she was heading towards the stairway, but her backside was quite the view. Killian had to blink to make sure he was not hallucinating. Either he was really smashed or she had a really hot ass, perhaps both. Sexy, toned legs quickly disappeared as she fled down the stairs, not even noticing his presence. Killian had to remind himself what he was doing as he tried to shake the image out of his mind.

Oh yes, finding his brother’s apartment.

He snapped out of his gaze and turned around, trudging down the hall., trying to remember which apartment number it was.

Liam’s address was in his phone, but Killian was really in no condition to try and search through his cell to successfully pull up the apartment number. He saw one door read 8C, and was certain that was his brother’s, although it could also have been 6C, but it was hard to tell when the number and letter were drifting through his blurry vision like they were.

Wow, he was really trashed. He just needed to sleep it off.

He stepped up to it and looked down to fish out his keys, seeing there was a doormat with a picture of what he made out to be a sailboat. Yes, this was definitely the one. Now, if only he could unlock the door.

He struggled with the keys, attempting to find the correct one in his drunken state (he only had two keys). Killian shifted a bit, almost stumbling over, but with slow success at trying to keep his good hand from shifting, he managed to slide the apartment key in the hole. Before he could even turn the key, the door opened. He must have forgotten to lock it when he left for the bar. Oh well, he was really too drunk to give a fuck.

Stumbling into the apartment with movements that were far from graceful, he shoved his keys in his pocket and made his way to the bedroom, running into a laundry basket and some furniture and mumbling a string of curses along the way. When he reached the first door he could find, he shut it behind him and chucked of his shoes, wondering why the bedroom had tiled floor.

He undressed himself with great struggle, barely able to unbutton his shirt, lazily tossing it to the floor. Hooking his thumbs underneath the hem of his pants and boxers, he decided to screw it all; he hated sleeping with his clothes on, so he shoved the offending material down with force and kicked them off until he was bare naked, besides his black socks and the chain around his neck with Naval charms. He reached for what he thought was the bed, quickly realizing that it was the bathtub when there wasn’t a mattress or blankets, but solid walls and a great big hole instead. He got in anyway, deciding this was probably better in case he had to vomit. And at this point, he was too far gone to care.

He settled in the tub, feeling the coolness against his back as he leaned his head on the edge and stared at the dark ceiling. With the loneliness of the apartment, he could feel the pain rising to the surface again. He ran his hand over his face and through his hair, expelling a long, weary sigh that was nowhere close to expressing how much sorrow he felt. After enduring three bloody years of Milah’s nonstop complaints about her husband every chance she got, how could she to do this to him? How could she just betray him and leave after everything?

Snapping his eyelids shut, he tried to summon other thoughts. Anything to help dull the misery he felt. Anything that would temporarily relieve the unbelievable sadness that overwhelmed him. So he thought of the last image he could recall; blonde hair, milky skin and long legs. Killian forced himself to stay focused on her, not that it was very difficult. And it was working. His cock started stirring to life and he couldn’t resist the urge to touch himself, to curl his hand around his hard cock at the image invading his thoughts.

He had went to the bar looking for someone to give him a quick fuck, but he found himself nowhere in the mood to be sociable or charming. Instead he would just take matters into his own hand. He didn’t need a woman anyways. He had one good hand and that was all he needed. Women just teased him, making him fall head over heals and then when he was weak, they thrived on the opportunity to reach into chest and rip out his bloody heart. Technically it was only one woman, but still, he was far better off on his own.

Slowly falling down the rabbit hole, he quckly pictured the blonde again and started moving his hand up and down his length, stroking himself.

“Bloody hell,” he breathed.

After a couple of rather dreary days, it felt good to just feel himself and give himself pleasure underneath his own hand, even for just a brief moment.

He bit his bottom lip at the thought of her ass and the exposed skin below, her luscious creamy thighs that he wouldn’t mind taking a bite out of. He didn’t get a chance to see her face but he really didn’t need to. She was carrying a bottle of liquid detergent, indicating that she had been heading to the laundry room, so he pictured himself stalking after her and entering the room to show her what he knew she never had before; a good, hard, satisfying fuck.

Already nearing his peak, he started thrusting into his grasp, greedily searching for sweet bliss as he pondered what it would be like ramming himself into that gorgeous ass from behind as she braced herself against the washing machine. Her hair was in a long braid so he imagined how bloody fantastic it would be to grab and pull on it while he pounded into her over and over, taking his pleasure. A low grunt tickled his throat as he pumped himself fiercely at the thought of yanking on that mane of golden hair, making her scream out in pleasure.

~*~

Emma came back up the stairs after she had started the washer and went into her neighbor’s apartment to replace the detergent. She knew he wouldn’t mind that she was using it. Even before he and Elsa started dating, she often went across the hall to borrow from him when she was out of something, whether it be coffee or pancake mix or laundry detergent, her neighbor was always happy to help out.

Although, the first time they met, he had just moved in from England and she came over knocking on his door asking for a cucumber. He looked at her as though she were nuts, but Emma legit needed a cucumber for her roommate’s puffy eyes when she had an allergic reaction to some medication she had taken. It turned out, he really did have cucumbers in his refrigerator. In fact there was never a time when the British man did not have something one of the girls needed. Of course they’ve never came by asking for tampons but, hell, he probably had a stash of those too from an ex-girlfriend or just because he was a very thoughtful guy who was surrounded by female occupants in the other units.

Emma came back to her apartment and started to insert the key in the lock when she remembered she never locked it after she dropped off the clothes basket. But she was only gone for maybe ten minutes. What were the chances someone broke in during that amount of time? She opened the door and set her keys on the end table, heading for her bedroom. Emma was all sweaty from going up and down the stairs several times, and the apartment was rather warm.

She turned down the heat and decided to take a shower while she waited for her clothes to wash. Emma peeled off her clothes, stripping down to her lacey pink bra and matching underwear, throwing her dirty clothes in the hamper. She didn’t have anymore clean clothes, but she could borrow something of Elsa’s. They were similar in size, except Elsa was an inch taller.

Walking down the hall and reaching the bathroom she opened the door, flipping on the light.

“Bloody hell…”

Emma was dead in her tracks when she let out a scream that surely the neighbors would have heard. Quickly trying to cover herself with her hands she averted her gaze from the sight. But it was too late. She had already gotten an eyeful.

“What the hell?!” The words tore from her throat, panic rushing through her blood as she tried to slow her heart rate down and catch her breath. In a haste of ungraceful movements, she grabbed her bathrobe from the door hook and covered herself up with it, trying to comprehend what the hell she was seeing without actually looking directly at him.

There was a man in her bathtub. A naked man. He had squinted his eyes shut to block out the light of the room and was now slowly opening them. He noticed she was there but she could tell he was drunk as he lifted his head and arched a brow, pulling his lips into a smirk, his eyes scanning her body. And while doing so, she was very much aware that he had his hand around his stiff and rather large cock. And he was masterbating! In her tub! Where she washed herself!

A million thoughts were racing through Emma’s mind, making her dizzy with fear as she grabbed a pair of tweezers from a drawer underneath the sink. Keeping her eyes fixed on his face to avoid seeing his junk again, she held up the tweezers as though it were a weapon, threatening him with it while she used her other hand to hold up her robe. ‘Nice, Emma. What are you going to do, tweezers him to death?!’ she asked herself, still struck with shock.

The ridiculously attractive man with a mop of messy black hair, did not seem to be the least bit intimidated as his smile faded. His steel blue eyes were dark and full of wreckage, his lips and jaw lined with well more than a few days’ worth of stubble.

“If you wanted to join me, all you had to do was ask.” He attempted a flirty tone, but his words were slurred as he spoke in an accent that sent shivers down her spine.

Her mouth was dry as she managed to speak again. “What the hell are you doing in my apartment?!”

A befuddled look fell upon his features. “What are you talking about, lass? This is my brother’s apartment, and you’re the one rudely barging in without knocking, turning on bleedin’ lights and not even offering to help a poor bloke out.”

She scoffed dramatically. “Sorry to tell you this, but you’ve stumbled into the wrong apartment.” There was irritation and a hint of amusement in her tone, but it was far from playful. And once she was able to tear her gaze away from his dangerously appealing face, she noticed he was still stroking himself. “Could you please stop that?” she asked as she bent over and picked up his shirt, throwing it over his package.

He finally stopped, but she was certain it was because he was too tired to continue. A look of confusion washed over his features as though his brain was finally registering what she was saying. “But this is 8C, love.”

“No, it’s-” she started, when realization hit her. Now it made sense. This was the brother that Liam had mentioned but never spoke about. “It’s not. It’s 6C. Liam’s apartment is across the hall.”

“You know him?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Yes, he’s my neighbor and also my roommate’s boyfriend.”

Killian looked at her in bemusement. “Emma’s your roommate?”

“No, I’m Emma. My roommate is Elsa. Now, if you would be so kind and remove yourself from my tub, that would be great.”

“But, your doormat has a picture of a sailboat?” he mumbled, scratching his head.

God, this guy really was smashed. “No, it’s a Swan. My best friend got it for me when I moved in.”

“Ah, now that makes sense,” he drawled, resting his head back against the tub with a lazy smile.

Emma sighed, a mixture of frustration and exhaustion as she set the pair of tweezers on the counter. She didn’t even know Liam’s brother was coming into town.

“Lass?”

“Hmmm?” Emma lifted her head and eyed him questionably.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” he groaned, his face as pale as a sheet. “Could you help me out of the tub?”

Emma immediately put on her robe, securing the belt around her waist before she came to his side and grabbed him under his arms, trying to pull him up. “You’ll have to help me.”

He leaned forward and lifted his weight, allowing her to wrap her arms around him and haul him up into a sitting position. Emma summoned all of her strength, registering the close proximity she was to this naked man. Her body was pressed to his as he breathed in her ear, and he reeked of alcohol. He grasped onto her tightly as she lifted him up with all of the body strength she could muster. She realized quickly that he was wearing a prosthetic replacing his left hand as it rested against her back.

With his help, she finally got him in a semi-standing position and she let her eyes fall, waiting for him to step over the edge, when she noticed that his shirt had slid down to the bottom of the tub and he was now exposed again, but the only thing that mattered at this point was helping this guy out of her tub so that he didn’t vomit all over himself. “Okay, now step over the tub, so we can get you to the toilet. Can you do that for me?”

A broad, lazy smile crossed his lips. “Anything for a lovely lass like you.” He slowly lifted his leg one by one until his feet were on the tiled floor, but by that point it was too late. Vomit started spewing out of his mouth, running down her clothed back. Emma moved more quickly, getting him to the toilet (luckily it was close) and helping him kneel on the floor.

He started upchucking into the opening as she held onto him by his bicep and rubbed his back. “That’s it, let it out,” she urged him in a soothing but resentful manner. Liam was sooo going to owe her for this.

Another round hit him and his body clenched as he continued to puke, making unpleasant sounds as he did.

When he finished, he caught his breath, his face still in the toilet, just in case there was still more to come.

Emma took the opportunity to leave his side and grab a blanket. It was one that Mary Margaret had knitted for her but it was the only one she had other than the blankets on her bed. It needed to be washed anyway. She retrieved it from the sofa and entered the bathroom again, draping the blanket over his back before fetching a washcloth from the cupboard and dampening it under the faucet. “All finished?” She asked him, wiping the the remnants of puke from his mouth and chin.

“I think so,” he managed in gargled voice.

“Okay. Let’s get you to bed. Come on.” She set the washcloth aside and wrapped her arm around his back underneath the blanket and lifted his arm, curling it around her shoulder as he started to stand up. She turned her head, looking up at him and urging him to move. He flashed her a wink and a flirty smirk.

“You don’t have to ask twice to get me into your bed, love.”

The slightest hint of a smile pulled at her lips, her cheeks filling with blush. This guy was hitting on her in his birthday suit, completely plastered, but somehow it was the most adorable thing ever. She would hate to see the responses he got from women he was hitting on while he was sober. “Okay, let’s go.”

Killian put his leg forward, and at first he started to fall, not being able to hold his weight. His legs started to buckle underneath him, but she spoke encouraging words and eventually they made it to Emma’s bedroom. She should have had him sleep in Elsa’s bed, he was Liam’s brother after all, but she’d rather him puke in her bed rather than her roommate’s, because that was the type of person she was. Always putting others before herself, even though she frequently got screwed over in return, but mostly by the ex-boyfriend that she would rather not think about right now. That was an entirely different story.

Emma helped Killian walk carefully and slowly across the floor, vaguely aware that his junk was swinging below, just inches away from her, his leg brushing over the fabric of her robe and rubbing against her leg with every other step.

They finally made it to their destination and Emma pulled apart from him to push the blankets back before sitting him on the edge of the bed, making sure to cover him up with the blanket. “I’ll be right back with your clothes and a throw-up bucket,” she told him. If he was going to sleep under her blankets, she was certainly not going to be having his naked body and manhood taint her delicate sheets.

The bastard didn’t listen though, and instead he laid back and lifted his legs on the bed, sprawling across it in his (gloriously) naked form. Emma averted her eyes, groaning her disapproval. “You don’t listen very well, do you?”

Keeping her eyes shielded, she reached over and pulled the blankets over him. She would just clean her bedding very, very thoroughly tomorrow when there was no longer a naked drunk person sleeping in it.

“You sound like my brother,” he mumbled, stirring and getting awfully comfy in her bed.

She sighed again and left the room to retrieve his clothes and the bucket she promised him. She set the bucket to next to her bed and folded his clothes, laying them on her upholstered chair across the room before leaving again to get him a glass of water. She returned to him and lifted his head, urging him to drink it, which he did, before she set it on the nightstand.

She eyed his prothstetic as it rested beside him over the blanket.

“Do you want me to…?” she started, pointing towards it.

He gave a soft nod and she reached over and gently removed the brace, setting the prosthetic hand next to the glass of water.

“What’s you name, beautiful?” he asked, as though he forgot who she was, flashing her a charming smile. She returned it with a sarcastic smirk.

“It’s Emma, remember? Emma Swan.”

“Apologies, love.”

The pet name tugged at her belly. He really needed to stop calling her that.

“Such a beautiful name for a beautiful woman. I’m Killian,” he uttered softly, lazily offering his hand. “The much better and more handsome Jones brother.” Emma blushed and shook his hand, rolling her eyes. His innocent smile became a devious one.

“Oh my god!” she shot her hand back, remembering what he was just doing with that same hand only moments ago. “Okay, it’s time for you to sleep,” she demanded, trying to calm her voice down. “And it’s time for me to take a long and cleansing shower.”

Killian wiggled his brows in a suggestive manner. “I’d be happy to join you if you need some company,” he said slowly, his words slurred.

“Gee thanks for the offer but I think you’ve spent enough time in my tub for one night,” she replied sarcastically. “And wipe that charming smirk off your face, because,” she waved her hand between them, “Ain’t nothing going to happen between us, got it?”

He seemed to accept her answer and snuggled the pillow underneath his head as his eyes fell shut. “Whatever you say lass.”

“Okay. Now, get some rest and I’ll make some breakfast in the morning. Sound good?”

He groaned, a look of disgust on his face. “Not really.”

“You might feel differently in the morning.” Emma started to head towards the door.

“Swan?”

She stopped in her tracks and turned around, lifting an eyebrow. “Hmmm?”

“Could you make pancakes with blueberries? My mum used to make me pancakes with blueberries.”

She sighed. “On one condition…”

“What’s that, love?” he mumbled languidly, his eyes still closed.

“I’ll make you blueberry pancakes if you refrain from masturbating in my bed.”

“As you wish.” He was slow on the draw but there was promise in his garbled words.

“Then we have a deal.” Did she even have pancake mix or blueberries? Probably not. Definitely not. Maybe Liam did, though. “I will make you blueberry pancakes.”

Killian didn’t waste any time falling asleep and Emma left the room, doing as she promised. She removed her robe and underwear, tossing them to the floor and stepped into the hot, steamy shower, washing the evening out of her hair.

When she got out, she put on a pair of Elsa’s sweatpants and a t-shirt before leaving her unit to transfer the clothes to the dryer.

She came back, depositing the basket on the floor before entering her room to check on Killian. He was sound asleep. Emma shut the door with a soft click and grabbed her phone off of the kitchen counter, seeing that she had two missed calls from Elsa and one from Liam along with a voicemail.

Listening to it, she realized that the reason for the call was to give her a heads up about Killian’s stay at his place while he got back on his feet.

Yeah, some heads up.

Emma went to the sofa, setting the phone on the coffee table as she plopped down on the couch. As she turned on the television, she realized how much more boring her night had gotten compared to earlier. It was certainly an interesting turn of events.

How did she go from engaging in a mundane task such as doing laundry to walking into a drunk, naked stranger in her tub masterbating? She tried to block out the images from her mind, but there was really no use. She might as well just accept the fact right now that they would be burned into her brain forever.

Emma flipped through the channels while trying to evade the thoughts of the naked man in her bed and realizing that she had to put up with him living across the hall.

She was so going to kill Liam. Or Killian. Or both.

[saltwombat88]

Myth busters:Migraine Edition?

I've realised that there's a lot of myths about migraines floating about. This is so damaging to people who suffer from migraines because people have a set idea of what a migraine is and if any sufferer differs from that idea they don't believe its truly a migraine. Not all of the ideas are false, some are half true and some only apply to certain people. So here's a few "myths" about migraines!

1:"you cannot have a migraine every day" - this one is incredibly annoying. I personally suffer from migraines every day, however a lot of people (including doctors) think I'm exaggerating and that I just mean it seems like every day. No, it is EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. So please do not let anyone tell you that you cannot have a migraine everyday--it's definitely possible.

2: "if you don't have an aura, it isn't a migraine" I see so many people saying stuff like this. Or "well I vomit constantly with my migraines and I can't walk or talk etc" look guys, migraines suck for everyone, no matter how many symptoms come with them, it is not a competition! Migraines come in all shapes and sizes; some people have the headache pain with little to no aura symptoms, some people even have aura symptoms and no actual headache. It doesn't make it less of a migraine! If you don't have aura that doesn't mean you don't have migraines. Statistics show its actually more common for sufferers to not have aura with migraines!

3: Aura part 2 A lot of people know the basic aura symptoms and think that's all there is. The most known are visual disturbance, nausea/vomiting, sound/light sensitivity and being dizzy. I rarely experience visual problems and when I do they are quite minor with it being just blurry vision. I'm dizzy and nauseated on rare occasions but never sick (touch wood). A lot of aura symptoms I have are not as well known so people don't often know they are caused by migraine. I also get unusually hyper or very tired, and my temperature goes from freezing cold to boiling hot within seconds. There are a whole host of auras and symptoms that come with migraines, never assume it's just the ones you've heard of!

4: "it's your diet, have you tried cutting out caffeine? Chocolate? Cheese?" While these are three huuuge triggers for some people, not everyone is alike. Some people are massively triggered by caffeine, while others actually use coffee as a relief method for migraines. Just because your uncles, best friends hairdresser got rid of their migraines by cutting out cheese, doesn't mean it will work for everyone! There are so many factors which contribute to migraines besides nutritional triggers for example the weather can be the cause of horrendous migraines for some people.

5: "you're just using it as an excuse!" For years and years people have been using migraines as an excuse, but usually people just looking for an easy reason. This makes it so hard for migraine sufferers to be taken seriously about their condition. All of the people within the migraine groups I'm in would love to be able to say yes to every occasion and never have to worry about whether they will have a migraine. It's not an excuse and we actually hate missing out because of our migraines!

6: "there's lots of medicines for that, can't you just take something?" While there are quite a few medicines known to help migraines there is so many issues with this. I have personally tried 5 preventatives with no success. Not every medication is suitable for everybody and its not always a guaranteed solution. There are painkillers available but if anyone tells you to take some paracetamol or ibuprofen - they are not clued up about migraines! Most painkillers suited to migraines are not good to take regularly, for instance triptans are an option but they shouldn't be taken too often. I've had issues with triptans giving me heart attack like symptoms so there is another reason why it's not as simple as "take some medication". Most painkillers that work on migraines have a very strong sedative effect so really aren't suitable to take in every day situations (e.g. Work and driving).

7: "it's because you're so stressed. Have you tried relaxing?" The idea that only stressed people get migraines is horrifically inaccurate. For me, during a stressful event I am migraine free. As soon as I relax my migraine comes on full force. There has been a study done looking at how let down from stress is a migraine trigger. Some of the world's most relaxed people have migraines and it is nothing to do with how stressed/not stressed they are. I find stress to be some doctors favourite scapegoat. "oh you're just stressed, they will go away once you begin to relax!". Do not let people blame stress for your migraines!

8: "migraines are just headaches" This is one of the worst. Migraines are a neurological disorder. A headache can normally be easily treated. Now I am not saying headaches don't suck. Any pain sucks! But to compare headaches and migraines is like comparing a puddle to an ocean- it doesn't add up! Migraines can effect every single part of your life. Some people experience hemiplegic migraines where they have stroke like symptoms and lose use of limbs for a period of time. So in short migraines are not just a headache, they are a condition that doesn't go away easily.

To back up my first comment I have included an image from my Migraine Buddy app. Showing that within the time I've had the app I have logged 226 migraine days and zero days of no migraine. I hope this post will be helpful in clearing up a few myths and explaining migraines further ❤️