#That I’m expected to be single and celibate for the rest of my life because of it

[monstermonii]

I hate American Christianity, it’s fucked up my spiritual relationship so much it hurts to even think about stepping inside of a church just because I’m bi.

#personal but it’s okay to reblog #Just being invited to church by my parents just brings me grief cause I remember how much I liked church when I was young and naive #and when I thought I was straight #I remember coming more to terms with who I am and going to churched just being preached at shallowly and it just HURTS #And I sit here in the living room my parents watching FOX News and this news station claims to be Christian #Then they alienate ‘the left’ and LGBT+ and anyone who isn’t like them and are just horribly hateful #They create this Them vs. Us and it just breaks me on the inside #and I feel like I’m a Bad Christian by not going to church but I just can find it in my heart to go #I’m trying to reclaim my spirituality by just doing independent Bible time #This mindset of ‘Christianity is being cis and heterosexual and if you arent then you have strayed from the light’ #You know how horrified I was to find out I’m bi? You think I wanted this??? #I found out IN A CHURCH #And to be told that it’s one of ‘God’s tests’ #That I’m expected to be single and celibate for the rest of my life because of it #As if I don’t already hate myself enough

[penguinsledder]

look into your eyes (and the sky’s the limit)

Rating: K+ (maybe T for some crass language?) Word Count: 4.8k Genre: Romance, FLUFF

ff.net | AO3 | ko-fi

“If it takes fighting a war for us to meet, it will have been worth it,” he said with a smile, his eyes never leaving hers. 

A fluffy in-universe Kataang AU where Aang saves the world without her, and they meet after the war instead. If you’ve ever wanted to read love at first sight Kataang, pining!Katara, and smack in the middle of charming and dorky!Aang, this might be up your alley. Inspired by the song “Helpless” from Hamilton. For @kataang-week‘s Kataang Valentine’s Bash 2021, with the prompt pair air and water.

A/N: HAPPY VALENTINE’S YALL! Before you read this I must also plug the absolute cutest crossover art by tumblr user @minky-for-short, which also served as an inspiration for this fic. Aang’s 15 here, btw, and Katara’s 17.

This is by far the LONGEST oneshot I’ve written (it was originally supposed to be so short but it got away from me) and … here we go.

I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender, or Hamilton.

--

Katara was not enjoying herself.

She’d only been back at the South for a week when they’d received word of a grand ball at the Earth Kingdom palace, celebrating the anniversary of the reclamation of Ba Sing Se. And while her father and brother were no strangers to these events as the Southern Chief and Ambassador, Katara was very well a fish out of water.

Sure, she’d attended some functions as a master waterbender during her stay at the North, but it was never anything of this magnitude. The glittering gold and jade green that colored the walls were far cries from all the icy whites and blue she was accustomed to all her life. Her gaze swept the room as she took in the hundreds of people gathered, all dressed to the nines in the latest fashion of their nation.

She herself wore a high-collared ocean blue dress with fur trimmings. She decided to wear her hair down for the occasion, but kept her signature tiny braids so she wouldn’t look too different (hair loopies, she could already hear her brother saying). Patterned white and blue bracelets adorned both her arms, standing out against her brown skin. Animal hide boots just peeked out from underneath her long skirt, completing her unmistakably Water Tribe look.

It was one she wore with pride. However as the night went on, she was realizing that if the room were any marker, the Water Tribes were very few compared to the populations of the Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation. On top of that, the Southern Water Tribe was almost completely cut off from the world during the war, so their specific styles hadn’t been seen by the rest of the world in years. And how different they really were—the garb she wore seemed almost out of place alongside the silk robes and dainty shoes common to both larger nations. She’d even been getting looks from different people, some curious, some confused, and some just plain rude.

As if to drive the point home, a gaggle of giggling Earth Kingdom girls with powder-white faces passed by and gave her a cold once over, making her face burn. She tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ear self-consciously as she heard the click of a tongue, then more muffled giggles before they went on their merry way.

She was highly considering bending some of the nearby punch onto their faces when a familiar voice cut through her thoughts.

“Enjoying the party?” She stopped, sighing—it could only be one person.

“No,” she grumbled as she turn to face him. He stood out from the crowd just as much as she did, though he was clad in garments colored a shade darker than hers. “You shouldn’t have brought me here, Sokka. This isn’t my job.”

“Oh, lighten up, little sister!” He elbowed her. “You deserve a break after all that training at the North Pole.”

“That’s why I went home! I wanted to spend some quiet time back home, not at some grand party where I don’t know anybody,” she said, gesturing wildly.

He scoffed. “You’re practically the princess of the South Pole. Think of it as political work.”

She smirked, seeing her opening. “Princess, huh? You introduced yourself as a prince, didn’t you?”

“It’s not not true,” he huffed, crossing his arms.

“I’m sure they were very impressed,” she said dryly.

“Of course she was!”

“Oh, so it’s a she, huh?” she said giddily. The joy she derived from teasing her brother was truly unparalleled.

“Well, how about you?” he goaded her, changing the topic. “Met any guys tonight?”

“A few guys have said ‘hey’ here and there,” she said nonchalantly. “They were … eh.”

“Wow, you truly have a way with words, Katara.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Listen, they’re boring. We barely make it past a few sentences.”

Sokka pursed his lips as he studied her. “Ah, maybe it’s because of that.” He pointed at her neck.

“Mom’s necklace?” she said skeptically.

“It’s a betrothal necklace, right?”

“In the North,” she stressed. “We all know it’s just a regular necklace in the South.”

“Ok, but we don’t know what they’re thinking. Here.” He reached over to tuck her necklace into her high collar. “Now you don’t give off ‘I’m engaged’ signals.”

“Hooray, just undeniably single now,” she deadpanned. “Look, it’s probably not that, they’re also just … not my type.”

“Oh? And what is your type?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

A blush crept into her cheeks. “I don’t know. Tall? Handsome? Thinks waterbending is great?” She shook her head. “Come to think of it, some of them get weird when we talk about waterbending.”

A look of understanding crossed her brother’s face. “Ah.”

“What?”

“Listen, Katara. I know you’re like the first waterbending master from the South in decades, and the first female one in the North, but …”

“Are you calling me a show-off?” she said indignantly.

“No!” He raised his hands up defensively. “I’m just saying that some men don’t like that. They got a lot of pride, and they get … intimidated when a woman is—”

She placed her hands on her hips. “Well good, because I don’t want them either. Just because I’m of marrying age doesn’t mean I—” She stopped, suddenly distracted as a tall, striking figure entered her field of vision.

He was clad in autumn-colored robes that weren’t quite as fancy as the red and green ones she’d seen earlier. He seemed to be around her age, and she couldn’t deny that he possessed a certain handsomeness—one that was boyish and yet mature at the same time. She looked on as he chatted animatedly to King Kuei himself, and another young man she assumed to be Fire Nation royalty from the royal hairpiece and his regal red and black outfit.

However, what intrigued her the most was the powder blue marking that arched over his bald head. It seemed to be a tattoo of some sort, and if she squinted, she could barely make out what seemed to be an arrow. It was a familiar symbol, but for some reason, she couldn’t for the life of her remember what it was at that moment. She continued to stare as the boy burst out laughing at the Fire Nation man, and Katara felt a little flutter in her chest as a small smile escaped her—his energy was infectious.

“What’s gotten into you?” Sokka followed his sister’s eyes suspiciously, then let out a loud groan. “Oh … oh no. Of all the guys, Katara!”

“Wh—What are you talking about?” she snapped, looking away defensively.

She heard the sound of his palm hitting his forehead, something she was unfortunately all too familiar with. “I know I kind of expected you to meet a guy tonight but really? So many possible men here and you decide to go for the Fire Lord?”

“The Fire Lord? Huh? What—no!” she sputtered. “It’s not him!”

“Aha, so you were staring at someone!” he said accusingly, wagging a finger at her.

She watched tensely as Sokka thoughtfully stroked an imaginary beard on his chin. “The Earth King then?” Sokka cringed. “Really, Katara, you might wanna try—“

“What do you even think of me?” she fumed.

“Wait.” Sokka’s eyes went wide as he threw a quick glance back at the trio across the room. He gasped, and Katara braced herself. “The Avatar?”

Sokka’s words hit her like a bucket of cold water. The Avatar! Tui and La, how did she not recognize him?! “I—“ She cleared her throat, trying to compose herself. “The Avatar?” she asked as calmly as possible.

“Katara, you were practically eye-fucking him across the room!” Sokka hissed, then shuddered. “Spirits, it creeps me out to say that but it’s true.”

“Shut up, Sokka.” Her face was burning at this point, and it was taking all her self-control not to wrap her hands around his wolf tooth choker and throttle him.

He sighed, not seeming to hear her. “Well, I suppose he is single.”

“Wait, he is?” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. “I mean, he’s a monk, right?

Sokka gave her a look that was in between a cringe and disbelief. “Oh, Katara, everyone makes a fuss about that! At any rate, I don’t think he’s … celibate. In fact, he’s practically the most eligible bachelor in the world, and trust me, it’s not due to a lack of choices.”

She deflated, looking down in embarrassment. Great, now she was just like all the dozens of fangirls who’d gotten starry-eyed over the Avatar. But there really was something about him that drew her like a magnet, and it definitely didn’t have anything to do with—

“Spirits, Katara, I think he’s looking at you too.”

She snapped her head back up, and to her shock, he indeed was looking right at her, seemingly awestruck. Sapphire crashed into silver, and he gave her a small, timid smile that made her feel like she was going to spontaneously combust right there and then.

Beside her, she heard Sokka groan. “Okay, he’s definitely looking at you. Guess that means I’m going to have to introduce you now.” He sighed, holding out his arm. “Come on.”

She looped an arm around her brother’s, and together, they walked across the room. Her heart sounding like a stomping herd of buffalo yaks, and she tried to ignore it by focusing on tucking some more loose strands behind her ears. When this was met with little success, she turned to fixing the folds of her dress with her free hand, unfortunately rumpling it even more than before. She only had enough time left to curse under her breath before they’d gotten close enough for Sokka to start getting the Avatar’s attention.

“Avatar Aang!” Sokka greeted him, waving at the young monk.

The young man looked up, a wide smile spreading across his face as he saw who had called. “Ambassador Sokka! It’s good to see you again,” he said as they clasped each other’s forearms in traditional Water Tribe greeting. The contrast between the Avatar’s lighter skin and her brother’s brown tone drew her attention, and she realized with a start that there were arrows on his arms and hands as well. “Are you here with Chief Hakoda?”

“Nah.” Sokka shook his head. “Dad had to take care of some business back at home, you know, with the reconstruction and all.”

“I see. And you’re with ….” He looked curiously at her, making her heart rate grow even more erratic.

“Master Katara of the Southern Water Tribe,” she said, trying to sound confident. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

A questioning look flashed across his features. “Southern Water Tribe?” he asked, glancing at Sokka.

“My sister.” Katara thought she saw a hint of relief touch his eyes, but it was gone in an instant. “Dad sent us here in his stead.”

“Thank you for ending the war, Avatar Aang. We’re greatly indebted to you,” she said, bowing deeply.

He held her gaze for what seemed to be the longest moment of her life before leaning down to take her hand and press a kiss to it. “If it takes fighting a war for us to meet, it will have been worth it,” he said with a smile, his eyes never leaving hers.

There was a pregnant silence as she dumbfoundedly took in his eyes, his words, his hand, his lips on her hand. Her mouth hung slightly ajar, and she was pretty sure Sokka’s was doing the same too.

“All right, this is too much for me,” Sokka finally said, breaking the tension. He raised his hands and started to back away. “I’ll leave you to it.”

The pair watched as Sokka retreated, disappearing into the sea of party guests. Suddenly realizing that they were still in contact, Katara pulled her hand back and they both stood up straight, looking at anything but each other. After a few agonizing seconds, she attempted to start a conversation at the same time as he did, unfortunately, and the two got pushed back into an even more excruciating silence. Just when she couldn’t take it anymore, the Avatar cleared his throat.

“So, I uh, I guess I haven’t properly introduced myself yet,” he said, awkwardly rubbing his neck and putting on the absolute cutest half-smile Katara had ever seen. “I’m Aang. No need for titles.”

“Aang,” she tested it out. It felt surprisingly natural. “Just call me Katara, then.”

“Okay, Katara.” An unexpected thrill went through her as he said her name, and she bit back a smile. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve met with Sokka and Chief Hakoda a couple of times, and I’ve heard so much about you!”

“Oh really,” she said, cringing. “What did they say?”

“Hey, nothing bad!” he assured her quickly. “For starters, they said you were a waterbender, and you’ve been training at the North Pole.”

“Oh.” That put her a bit more at ease. “That’s true.”

“Not only that,” he went on. “But Chief Hakoda said you were excellent and the first North-trained female master in centuries! Master Pakku taught me too so … I know how big a deal that is,” he added cheekily.

“It definitely wasn’t easy convincing him,” she chuckled, fully relaxing. This was going better than every other conversation she’d had that night. “But he’s asked me to help him train his waterbending students, so I guess we’re on good terms.”

“That’s incredible! I’d personally love to see you waterbend sometime.”

Katara blushed. “What? No, I can’t—you’re the Avatar! What’s my bending going to look like to you of all people?”

He was unruffled. “Probably great. I can bend all four elements, but that doesn’t mean I’m the absolute best at them all. You can ask Toph.” He winced.

The waterbender laughed. Toph Beifong was collectively known as the greatest earthbender of all time, partly due to objective acknowledgement of her talents, and partly due to her constant self-declaration of it. “I’ll be sure to do that. Is she here tonight?”

“Nah, she’s busy with her own stuff these days. She’s found other students to yell at instead of me,” he said dryly.

“Good for you,” she said, grinning. “Anyway, I’d love to see you airbend sometime, too. I’ve never seen airbending before!”

Aang perked up immediately, looking excited as he reached into the folds of his robes. “Oh really?! Well, check this out!” He clasped his hands together for a second before parting them with a wicked grin.

Katara blinked. A couple of marbles were spinning around midair in between the Avatar’s palms. Aang looked at her eagerly, and she quickly tried to rearrange her confused shock into a (hopefully) impressed look.

“That’s uh—that’s great!” she said, and much to her relief, he didn’t seem to notice her hesitation.

“Right! This is my favorite trick,” he said proudly, before bringing his hands together again and returning the marbles to his pocket.

He’s a dork, she decided. An unexpected burst of affection swelled in her chest at the thought, and she decided she liked that about him.

“I’ve got another trick to show you,” he said, pulling her out of her thoughts. Katara could have sworn there was an almost mischievous glint in his eye as he said that.

He looked pointedly at a nearby Earth Kingdom general wearing a cape, and she watched as he did several deft twisting motions with his left wrist. All of a sudden, a gush of wind threw the general’s cape up, flipping it over and consequently covering his face.

The pair exploded in a fit of giggles as their victim threw the cape off his face angrily, revealing a very red and livid face. He started cursing as he angrily searched for a suspect.

“Uh-oh.” Aang said, ducking his head. “We better get out of sight.” He paused for a moment, calculating.

“How—“

“Just take my hand.”

She looked at him like he was crazy, but his face told her he was dead serious. All things considered, trusting him did seem to be her best option at the moment. “Okay.”

The moment her hand was in his, he spun her around skillfully into his arms with one turn. She looked up at him incredulously. “Are we going to dance?”

“Oh no, we’re going to be doing some bending practice.” He grinned impishly, placing his free hand on her shoulder. She gulped.

“Just follow my lead, Master Katara.”

The tinkling of the bianqing echoed throughout the room to signal the transition of music, and she decided Aang must have been familiar with the piece, because they took off at the same time the erhu started with its first note.

He led her through the dance floor with utmost grace, blending the both of them seamlessly into the crowd. If Katara didn’t know any better, she would have thought they really were just dancing. But observing closely, she had never seen any dance quite like whatever Aang was doing—the spiraling movements, the ability to turn himself (and her) to a different direction at a moment’s notice. They might as well have been leaves in the wind.

So this was airbending, she thought.

However, as their little “dance” went on, she started to notice a hint of familiarity to their motions—the way he would alternate between drawing her towards him and holding her at arm’s length, the way the weight transferred back and forth between the two of them—unmistakably, there was also an ebb and flow to his breeze, a push and pull.

“Waterbending,” she breathed, low enough that he didn’t hear her. She’d read about how airbenders just trusted the air to let it carry them but she’d never realized how similar it could be to her element’s constant shift of energy. That is, until this display.

A deft spin pulled her out of her thoughts, and before she could process what was happening, she found herself mere inches away from his face. Argentine eyes took up her entire vision, and she could only hear their ragged breaths and beating hearts. Agonizingly slowly, the distance between them started to close, but it wasn’t until she felt his warm breath on her lips did she realize just how close they were.

“So,” she said, ducking her head in a panic and suddenly taking interest in the orchestra playing at the end of the ballroom. The music had quieted to a soft melody, and she fixed her gaze on the bamboo flute producing it. Her cheeks burned both at their almost-encounter, and she prayed to the spirits that her complexion was enough to hide it. “Flight and evasion. Very airbender.”

The Avatar blinked, then shook his head as if coming out of a trance. “You know for someone who says she’s never seen airbending, you sure seem to know a lot about it.” He lightly swayed them to the music, just enough to blend in without actually changing position.

She scoffed. “You’re the talk of the Four Nations, you know. Plus, Master Pakku told me that learning the bending styles of the other nations would help me greatly, so I read up at the North’s libraries while I was training there.”

“From firsthand experience, I can tell you it does help greatly.” He paused for a moment. “On that note, I’m curious if you’ve read anything about the Avatar.”

She shrugged. “Sure. Comes with the territory of the four elements.”

“So, how have I fared?” he probed playfully. “Living up to your textbook expectations?”

“Well for one, I didn’t expect the Avatar would be such an incurable prankster.”

She had to bite back a giggle as her partner did his best to feign offense. “Me? I’m just a simple monk,” he said innocently.

She laughed in earnest this time. “Could have fooled me. Do you always charm girls by kissing their hands and whisking them away to dance?”

“I—“ He stopped swaying. “You think I’m charming?”

Katara flushed. “I—“ She swallowed. “Um … sorry.”

“What? No, why are you apologizing?”

“Sorry, Aang, can we just drop this?”

“If it makes you feel better, I—I think you’re beautiful.” Katara froze, and the Avatar averted his gaze. “And um, to answer your question, no, this isn’t a regular thing.”

Katara’s world completely stopped. Did … Did the Avatar—did Aang just … what did that mean?

“Aang! There you are.” The two immediately jumped apart at the sound. Katara turned in its direction, and her panicked mind picked up various disjointed information about the approaching figure. Regal crimson robes, a golden headpiece, silky black hair, a scar … Sacred spirits, she realized with a start. “I’ve been loo—” The Fire Lord’s golden eyes flitted between their two flushed faces. “Sorry, am I interrupting something?”

Katara desperately willed Aang to earthbend the ground to swallow them whole, but to her dismay, he had other plans. “No, nothing at all,” he said lightly, plastering an easy look onto his face. “Zuko, this is Master Katara of the Southern Water Tribe. Katara, meet his fieriness himself, Fire Lord Zuko.”

Zuko ignored the last part. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Master Katara.” He touched a fist to his palm and bowed to her, and Katara returned the gesture graciously.

“The pleasure’s all mine, your honor.” Something in Zuko’s expression shifted, and to her even greater confusion, Aang snickered next to her. She decided she’d ask about it … some other time.

“Now, what was it you were saying, Sifu Hotman?” Aang asked, a grin still playing on his mouth.

Katara found it harder to stifle laughter as the Fire Lord scowled, making no effort to hide his annoyance at the nickname. “I’ve just gotten word about the New Ozai Society causing unrest back in Caldera City. I need to get back as soon as possible, and I wanted to ask if you could come with me.”

A sinking feeling came over her at the rueful look Aang shot her. He took a deep breath. “Of course. Let’s take Appa so it’s quicker.”

Zuko nodded. “Thank you, Aang. I’ll just take a bit to look for Mai, then we’ll meet you by Appa.” He looked over at her, bowing once more. “I apologize for the abruptness of this. But it was nice meeting you, Master Katara.”

She bowed back. “Same to you, Fire Lord Zuko.”

She watched numbly as the Fire Lord left. Well, what did she expect? He was the Avatar, for spirits’ sake! It was just her luck that she had to start falling for him, of all people. How did she ever think—why did she ever think something was possible?

And it’s not like she was sure he liked her back? Sure, he called her beautiful, but that could have meant nothing. Regardless, it was just so damn frustrating because something was there, and they were being pulled apart before they had a chance to make sense of it.

“Katara?” He said her name timidly. She turned to look at him. His silver eyes, which had been so light and playful earlier, were filled with sadness. “I—“

“You need to go.” Aang winced, and Katara felt a pang of regret—her words might have ended up sounding much icier than expected. “Aang, it’s not your fault. Keeping peace is the Avatar’s duty.”

He gave a small sigh. “Yes, it is. But that’s not what I was going to say.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Oh. What was it then?”

“I wanted to tell you … I had fun tonight,” he said with a shy smile, easily melting her defenses once more. Spirits, what was with this boy? “I really enjoyed talking to you. And dancing with you.”

“I did too.” She hesitated. Nothing to lose, she told herself. “I … really wish we had more time.” She just knew she was blushing, but she had to try.

“Me too.” She was desperately racking her brain for something to say next, when Aang suddenly perked up.

“Could I write you?” Katara looked up, surprised. “I could send you a hawk once I get to the Fire Nation. And you can send me a letter back on the same hawk—it’d know where to find me. And I could visit you in the South Pole as soon as I can! If you want,” he added quickly.

Her initial shock soon dissipated and was replaced by warmth at his unabashed enthusiasm. He did like her. He was willing to try, and it was going to be hard, but he wanted to make it work.

And truthfully, so did she.

“Sounds perfect,” she told him.

Affection swelled in her as she watched his gray eyes brighten at her response. She listened as he excitedly rattle off a seemingly never-ending list of things they could do, ranging from something as mundane as trying out the local food to a seemingly surreal cloudbending trip (“We can take Appa!” “Okay, who is Appa?” “He’s my best friend.” “That we can ride on?” “Sure. He’s a flying bison.” “. . . oh. Neat!”)

There was really something about Aang that she couldn’t quite place. Maybe it was his surprisingly troublemaker energy, or his catching enthusiasm. Maybe it was the way his native element just exuded from him in every way, and how easily it worked with hers. Or maybe, it was the way looking into his eyes was all it took for her to believe that cloudbending really was a thing they could do, despite her never having heard of it in her experience as a master waterbender. After all, sky seemed to be the limit with this airbender.

But even if she wasn’t yet sure what it was, she couldn’t be happier to know that they were going to have a chance to find out.

“… or you could show me around your village, and we could skate on some ice and I don’t know if this sounds weird but … will you go penguin sledding with me?”

She blinked. Penguin sledding. It was honestly one of the last things she ever thought she’d be doing on a date, and the whole thing was just so … unpredictable. And fun. And free. So … Aang.

“Of course,” she said, her face breaking into a smile.

He beamed at her. “Great! It’s a date!” He immediately blushed when he realized what he had just said. “I—I mean, the date, like you know, the fruit … not …”

That was it. He was just so darn adorable with his attempt to cover up that she couldn’t help but lean over to give him a kiss on the cheek. “It’s a date,” she assured him, watching with much enjoyment as Aang, who was scarlet by this time with his jaw slack, touched the spot where her lips had been.

“What, gotta catch your breath, airbender?” she asked teasingly.

“I—I—um,” he stammered.

Katara shoved his arm lightly. “Get going, Avatar, the world needs you. But I’ll be expecting the hawk.”

“Airbender’s honor,” he said, giving her one last dopey smile before he turned on his heel and walked away. He seemed to navigate the crowd with a new spring in his step, just barely touching the ground. Clearly, walking on air was a literal thing for him, she thought with a chuckle.

“OKAY, I SAW THAT!” a voice interrupted her thoughts with a screech. She turned to see none other than Sokka aggressively making his way to her. “OOGIES CENTRAL, little sister. OO—”

“Sokka, please.” She rolled her eyes. “You talk like I didn’t see you flirting with that Earth Kingdom girl the whole night.”

“That’s different! I’ve met Suki more than once.” She raised an eyebrow at him, but he went on. “I can’t believe it. You … and the Avatar …” he whispered tensely. “Oh man, wait ‘til Dad hears about this. You attend ONE party and you suddenly have a boy wrapped around your finger!”

“Well, didn’t you and Dad say I should meet more guys?” she said coolly. “And now the tribe can stop complaining about me not snagging myself some North Pole husband.”

“We didn’t mean the AVATAR!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Why not?” She glared at him. “I’m sure everyone would love to meet him.”

Sokka scrunched his eyebrows. “Meet him?”

“Aang said he’d come over to visit the South Pole as soon as he can,” she said a-matter-of-factly. “We’re going penguin sledding.”

“He WHAT?” Sokka sputtered. “The Avatar? Is coming to the South Pole? And you’re going penguin sledding???”

“Yup. He asked me, and I said yes,” she said with a grin, already giddily imagining sledding down the South Pole’s slopes with him. She felt a rush run through her, making her feel light-headed with glee. In that moment, realized she might actually have half a mind to go over to the Fire Nation herself should the New Ozai Society start delaying their plans.

“Ohhh no. I know that look.” Sokka groaned. “Spirits, you’re … you’re helpless.”

Katara kept smiling. Maybe she was.

But so was he.

--

A/N: Btw, the bianqing is a Chinese stone chimes instrument.

The whole point of a Helpless-inspired AU was a love at first sight AU basically, which was an interesting angle for me to write since Kataang is canonically a slow burn friends to lovers couple. Also: first move x pining Katara? Natural charmer x awkward bean Aang? I needed that in my life so I wrote it lol.

I also had so much fun peppering this with so many references (from both the actual Avatar shows and Hamilton!) If you wanna point out as much as you can I would love you for it.

#kataangvb #kataang #kataangtag #katara #aang #atla #avatar: the last airbender #hamilton #helpless #oreocheesecakes fanfiction #long overdue lol thanks for waiting

[hopetofantasy]

Actress Nora Dari (wtFOCK): “I hope I don't go crazy. I wouldn't be surprised if that happens”

Two years ago she was allowed to bump into Matteo Simoni in ‘Patser’, now your fifteen-year-old knows her as Yasmina from ‘wtFOCK’ and she ended up in Cannes because of the new film by Bas Devos. Where it ends for Nora Dari remains to be seen, but you don't want to get in her way. “You’ve been looking so long for a Moroccan girl who wants to act and then you get me.”

“So I always try to be a bit low key...” She hesitates. "Eumh, do you know what 'low key' means?" "How much of antique do you think I am exactly?" “Gosh. You have a flip cover for your smartphone, I saw.” “Point for Dari. But what are you trying to be a bit low key...” “Huh? Sorry, I have no idea anymore. I was completely distracted by that pigeon over there.” It’s easy to forget - especially when she starts talking in her Genk dialect about her sky-high ambitions or her tough childhood in Winterslag - that Nora Dari is barely seventeen. After all, she’s already accumulated a nice record of achievements in two years. From the Belgian-Finnish crime series ‘Bullets’ (shown on Telenet) and a leading role in ‘wtFOCK’, the online series of SBS and Telenet, to her supporting role in ‘Ghost Tropic’, the most recent full-length movie by Bas Devos, who made the selection of Quinzaine des Réalisateurs in Cannes in May. The day after our conversation at an Antwerp terrace, she  leaves for London, for a fourth and final audition for a lead role in an international film project. “It looks good, but I can't tell you anything about it yet. That’s a tough assignment for me: my whole body really wants to scream. Seriously, I'm pretty much the Moroccan Tom Holland (Spider-Man, and the spoiler king of Marvel's Cinematic Universe). But I'll remain silent!”

How does a large, international production house ends up at your door? Nora Dari: “I started knocking on their door. I'm really not going to sit around and wait for someone to discover me miraculously, so if someone gives me a tip about an interesting movie, I'll go after it myself. I always want more and everything I set my mind to, seems to be working. An international series, ‘wtFOCK’, Cannes with my first film role and now this latest project is also within reach. Can you blame me for believing? In my head, I'm already in Hollywood. First become a Shooting Star at the Berlinale.” Just in between everything? Dari: “You can dream, right? Acknowledgement is not for me - I don't even know who decide such things - but rather, it’s a means to an end. If you end up in the same list of acting prodigies (those Shooting Stars) as Marwan Kenzari, Matteo Simoni and Matthias Schoenaerts, every director knows who you are.” You can also quietly build an acting career in Belgium. Or is that really not an option? Dari: “Why should I linger on a few square meters? My world was so small in Winterslag and now that it’s gradually getting bigger, I really don't know why I should stop at Flanders. Even if ambition is a very dirty word where I come from.”

How? Dari: “Winterslag is a neighborhood where many young people are going into the wrong direction. Big dreams are taboo, apparently. I was bullied, mainly because I wanted to start something with my life. Even if I said that I would one day want to go to New York, I would be laughed at: “Just sit down, Nora! Who do you think you are?”

Keep your head down, keep your nose clean and make sure that you can start working at the age of eighteen: something like that? Dari: *nods* “Graduating and going to work at the age of eighteen seems like quite an achievement in Winterslag. If you hadn't gotten into the wrong shit by then, you would’ve done well. At my school, we had two pupils without an immigration background and otherwise exclusively Turks, Moroccans and Italians from families who were really poor. Our parents worked very hard, you spend a lot of time on the street and bad things sometimes happened. *thinks* There’s a reason why I almost exclusively watch gangstershit movies. I come from a neighborhood where a lot of gangstershit happens. I’ve seen and experienced so many bad things, but at the same time Winterslag is such a big part of who I am and I get very angry when someone else talks about it like I do now. *small laugh* 

I’ll buy a house there one day. It’s still my home, all the beautiful things and all the rotten things in one pile. To be clear: I don't want to romanticize my childhood. Winterslag is hard, but nothing to be sad about. There are so many people who have gone through the same thing. Only, it sucks to be called a whore, because you want to do something that is apparently 'not normal'.”

It dawns on me why you once said that Algerian-Canadian Zaho's song Kif'n'dir summed you up quite nicely. Especially the text 'Je fais la morte pour ne pas mourir'. Dari: “That's what I've been doing for a long time. Keeping myself deathly still and don’t stand out too much. In the long run, you also start to believe what others are telling you, that acting is not for you.”

When did you finally stopping ‘being death’? Dari: “When I was fifteen, when I heard that Adil El Arbi and Bilall Fallah were looking for extras for ‘Patser’. That didn't mean much more than just bumping into Matteo Simoni, but I was sold immediately. In between shots, I approached Adil: “Mr. El Arbi, thank you for opening my eyes. From now on, I’ll go all out for this.” *laughs* We clicked and in the meantime we’ve become friends. I hope he thinks of me when they start recording ‘Patsers’, so that I can show how much I've grown in those two years.”

Not much later, through their casting agency Hakuna, you ended up as a suicide bomber in the Finnish-Belgian Crime series ‘Bullets’. What have I missed? How did you go from a sixteen-year-old extra to such an intense role in a few months? Dari: “I think - if I may say that - they were shocked after my casting. I’ve never thrown myself into a project as hard in my life. Whining. Shouting. Tantrums. All fucking emotions, one after the other. You’ve been looking so long for a Moroccan girl who wants to act and then you get me. *laughs* I've never loved anything as much as acting, so I’m giving everything during a casting. I know that I’m not the best and still have to learn, but I suspect my energy is making up for it. That, and I consider myself a very pleasant colleague. *laughs* I greet everyone in a Genk dialect, always walk around smiling and even bring cookies.

I've always had the feeling that I have to work harder than the rest, because people expect less of me. That's what my father taught my brothers and me. At the Liège boarding school where he studied, he was the only Moroccan in Latin studies: his classmates thought he was weird, because of his origins and the other Moroccans looked at him weirdly, because he aimed higher. "Ah, Mr. pope is back there." In the end it became so unbearable that he enrolled in the TSO (technical school), which was socially accepted.”

How does a 16-year-old feel like a suicide bomber? Dari: “They gave me a background, but I added a few things myself to make it easier. And music helps me really hard too: ‘Qui suis-je’ from Scylla on repeat and then a little method acting in that character. My mother was there on set and apparently got terrified. *laughs* I asked them not to accompany me anymore. When I see them, I come back to myself, while I try very hard to forget myself in front of the camera. I need to be able to get into a role on set. Although it remains very strange to hype yourself up for hours with the mantra 'I'm dying and I'm taking all these people with me'. Fortunately, I can also easily let go. I had to, I had exams the next day. *laughs* Suicide bomber by day, studying economy by night.”

In May you hopped around on the Croisette for the world premiere of ‘Ghost Tropic’. You play the daughter of Khadija, a woman who walks home through Brussels after falling asleep on the metro. Devos makes quiet, poetic arthouse films: it’s a huge leap from teenage series and thrillers. Dari: “It was an adjustment, yes. Before I played in ‘Bullets’, I had never even seen a Flemish film. Not a single one. Or wait: one at school. What was it called? I have to give a speech soon, with its protagonist.”

‘Daens’? With Jan Decleir? Dari: “That one! Everything I had already learned about acting was from Hollywood movies. That enlarged playing style also worked in ‘Bullets’, but when I tried that in ‘Ghost Tropic’, Bas blocked it very quickly. *laughs* "The less you do the better, Nora!" I thought about it all too hard. "Nora, just go." “Yes, but Bas, who am I? What have I been through up to this point?” I have a hard time playing without a backstory in my head.”

Did you learn something from Devos? Dari: “Bas and Maaike Neuville told me in Cannes that I shouldn’t forget to live. I was only busy with what should be my next big step, but I also have to learn to enjoy. Surrendering is nothing dirty, but if I put everything aside for this job, I’ll never be able to put content in my characters. Then they’ll give me a heavy role and I’ll get stuck.”

Sensible advice. Alarm bells already went off when I read in ‘Het Belang van Limburg’ that you certainly wanted to remain celibate until you were 27 and wouldn’t continue your studies, just focussing on your career. Dari: “In the end, I’ll study cross-media management and I’ve come back to that other one as well. *laughs* What?! I’m seventeen, I change my mind completely every month. When I am 40, I don't just want to have a nice IMDb profile to look back on.”

'9000 followers? That is more people than have seen my last film', Devos thought humbly in your Instagram Stories. Dari: “I hope ‘Ghost Tropic’ gets more visitors than I have followers, but I'm not going to bitch if only fifty people come to watch the film in the end. I just like to act and have hardly seen anything from ‘Bullets’ or ‘wtFOCK’ myself. When I'm not on set, I just feel bad. As if I'm not getting the most out of my life. 

At the very least, ‘Ghost Tropic’ gave me another experience and I was able to take my father with me, when we went to the Dominican Republic. My grandfather had passed away just before the shoot and we kind of processed that together there, while we were watching the sunrise at five in the morning. A very tender moment. Very cinematic, too. *thinks* I’m a very passionate person. Everything I experience is immediately very big. It’s all hard, good or bad. So hard that I can't always process all the feelings. *dryly* I hope I don't go crazy. I really wouldn't be surprised if that happens.”

You seem to be especially prone to obsessions. Whether it’s making music, painting or acting: if you decide to do something, everything has to make way for it. Dari: “When I got a keyboard, I was immediately very invested in my music. Making beats to accompany my slam poetry, tinkering at night, searching and keeping my parents awake until they went crazy. And then I suddenly got tired of it and started painting. Swimming. Dancing. I also played soccer for a while, mainly to get my dad's attention. During the 'consultation hour' around the tajine I could never have a chat with my brothers and father, because it was only about football and anime.”

Anime? Dari: “The men in my family are all next-level anime fans. They even speak Japanese to each other. *thinks* And I also plunged into my religion for a while, in between football and slam poetry.”

How? Dari: “When the community center closed its doors around the age of 13 and I saw a whole circle of friends go away in one go, I started clinging to something else. So, faith. At that time I also wore a hijab, because I was convinced that you could only be such a good Muslim. I was really pretty strict and took everything way too literally. Today I understand that you mainly have to look for your own interpretation.”

In the meantime, the average 15-year-old is also going through a storm for the second season of wtFOCK, which can be followed daily on Instagram and wtfock.be, good for about 400,000 visitors a week and more than 8 million watched - or at least started - episodes. Significantly more than the first season, although that also had good numbers. Especially for a series that was deliberately launched in silence. “You’re already bombarded with advertising on Instagram, subtle and less subtle,” says Dari, while she tries so intensely to make eye contact with a waiter that he almost bumps into a glass door. “I don't have any big theories about the future of television, but ‘wtFOCK’ really was a relief. It’s on the internet and you mainly do what you want with it. "Ah, I don't have to look?" That unforced approach works. The worst thing that could have happened to us, was that the press started writing about it en masse: it had to remain a bit mysterious and above all belong to the young people themselves. Normally we don't give interviews either: ‘wtFOCK’ is one big bubble that you shouldn't talk too much about.”

Without any illusions about the appeal of Knack Focus to fifteen-year-olds: is this conversation a good idea? Dari: “Sounds okay to me. I’m more now than just Yasmina? And I think fifteen-year-olds do know Knack.” 

For real? Dari: “That's the book we get in History as source material in class. *laughs* I think I'll stop giving interviews again after this. A little mystery can't hurt.”

SKAM, the Norwegian series of which ‘wtFOCK’ is a remake, became a hit in its own country. That’s not always the case with foreign remakes, except for the Flemish one. It continues to gain popularity. Do you have an explanation for that? Dari: “No idea why things were less successful in other countries, but ‘wtFOCK’ is so good because it is real. We don't disguise anything, don't pour Hollywood sauce on it and talk like I talk to my friends. Apparently, a lot of teachers also follow the series to get a better understanding of their students. Smart, because we tackle all issues a teenager has in a very realistic way.”

The makers of SKAM were prepared with a tour through its country and a survey of Norwegian teenagers. Their biggest conclusion was: no generation suffers as much from performance pressure and comparison anxiety as yours. Dari: “Social media. Instagram is a very beautiful, but at the same time very scary place. A lot of girls now ask me, for example, how they can also enter this profession. But if you ask them why, it turns out that there’s no passion, they just see it as a fast road to fame. Then join ‘Temptation Island’? They see  people like Millie Bobby Brown (from Stranger Things), who is barely fifteen and has a crazy career and they let themselves be hyped about it. I should actually say 'we'. I said it already: I ​​hope I don't go crazy.” *giggles hysterically* 

About 1200 teenagers showed up for the casting of wtFOCK, but the makers did not find their Yasmina there. Dari: *nods* “In the end they also had to call Adil, who gave me the tip.”

Why do you think that is? Dari: “I get angry when someone says they want more diversity, but can't find anyone. *throws arms up dramatically* "They aren't there!" They are there. In my neighborhood alone, so much talent is packed together. You may have to do your best to find them, because if you come from a neighborhood where ambition is laughed at, you’ll not find your way to a casting. Because the TV and film world seem so closed off from the outside - and it is. I also didn't know how to do that, I was just lucky that Adil, Nora Gharib and Ikram Aoulad wanted to help me. They helped me avoid a lot of rookie mistakes. And that I won't sign myself up for Temptation Island or something tomorrow.” *laughs*

Gharib also predicted that as a Moroccan woman she would have problems with ‘Patser’. From the moment you do not portray a classic religious Muslim woman, it seems to already lead to commentary. Dari: “I've had my part too. Women who send to me that I brought shame on the entire Moroccan community, for example, because Yasmina doesn't always wear her hijab. Usually these are women who’ve seen two minutes of the series and then get angry without seeing the context. *blows* You know, I don’t care. If my parents and I are okay with it, then no one has anything to say to me. Criticism slips away from me. It really takes more than an angry DM to get me off my path, I come from Winterslag breeding.”

*** Bas Devos, director ‘Ghost Tropic’:

“I had never seen Nora at work, but her audition video immediately made me curious. At the final casting, where she had to improvise a bit, it was already clear to me after a few minutes. She did a beautiful job. Nora is not trained as an actress, but I often work with a combination of non-professional and professional actors. That really doesn't matter to me. It's all about how naturally someone relates to the camera and how relaxed you are while being filmed. Then very beautiful things can happen. And I think she also liked not having to make her character bigger in an understated film like ‘Ghost Tropic’, as that’s sometimes the case for TV. To hear that you are still playing without doing anything. 

It's cool how she dares to go for something so outspokenly at such a young age, but I did point out to her that working alone isn’t the perfect solution. She’s very fond of that international career, but it is also easy to walk into a wall there. Seventeen-year-olds have to live, right? Well, she's sensible enough, I'm not worried. She'll eventually find the right balance. At the end of the shooting period, she said she hoped we could work together again. I told her that I hope she still likes it by then. *laughs*  Who knows which films will she be in then.”

#wtfock #wtfam #older article

[lululawrence]

hi!! so i heard you were asexual and i’ve been struggling for a few months whether i’m ace or demisexual. personally i dont feel sexually attracted to anyone. people my age are just having sex on sex with people. i could never do that. just the thought of it disturbs me and makes me so uncomfortable to the point where i could cry. the only time i would ever do anything with anyone is when i find my soulmate. i wouldnt wanna do that with someone i dont have a connection with. its so confusing. my friends are always like “she’s so innocent” cause i never say dirty jokes like ever. i dont cause it makes me uncomfortable. even the topic of sex makes me uncomfortable. i’ve also never wanted to get pregnant. if i want a child i would adopt one. i always tell my mom that i dont want to have my own child and she’s like “you’re young, you’ll change your mind.” but i don’t think i will. now that i think about it, the thought of sex has always scared me. even when i found out what it was, i never wanted to do it. i would always think, “oh my god, i’m gonna have to do that? i don’t want to do that.” like sure i read smut. but i don’t read it and go “oh my god that’s so hot holy shit” like no. i just read it for fun i guess. i like the intimacy that the characters share i guess. like i’ve never felt sexually attracted to anyone. i find people attractive, yes. but i never look at people and think “omg i wanna have sex with them”. like even louis. i find him rlly attractive, but the thought of him doing anything sexual grosses me out. i saw a picture of a dick and was shaking for an hour. the thought of having sex with someone really stresses me out. but, like i said before, i would only have sex with someone i love and i know i will be with forever. so because of that, i dont know if i’m ace.

hiya babes! yes i'm ace so welcome! hehe

okay, so here's the thing. i'm not like... willing to say YES YOU DEFO ARE or NO YOU'RE DEFO NOT regarding sexual identities because that's just... too personal imo. i'm also putting the rest of this under a read more, because it's just. long.

with that said, everything you've described and explained here to me SCREAMS of asexuality. people who are ace—even those who feel absolutely zero sexual attraction like me and, from what you've said, you—aren't automatically celibate. i'm married and i have three kids that i grew myself haha our sex life isn't... the most active, because i'm just... there's a lot of days where i just CANNOT go there, but it's active enough for us. that doesn't negate the fact i am still ace.

that's kind of the beauty of people, right? the complexity and nuance of situations and how there can be exceptions to the rules, but that doesn't change the fact the rule still exists. you can say "i don't want to have sex ever in my entire life with another person omg please no gross i'm so uncomfortable i might cry" AND have the caveat of "should i ever meet my soulmate, my one single person who is the perfect compliment to me and my soul and every fiber of my being, i would have sex with them." BOTH of these things can be true. your soulmate is the exception to the never wanting to have sex, but it doesn't negate the fact you still do not feel sexual attraction and that the topic of sex makes you incredibly uncomfortable, possibly even repulsed.

because did you know that there are some asexuals who are sex repulsed? that's a thing. even the discussion of sex is enough to send some people into extreme discomfort at the very least.

tl:dr: to me, based only on the information you've given me in this ask, it sure seem like you would feel at home if you chose to use an asexual label. there's not some sort of membership card for asexuals that gets nullified if you meet someone you would have sex with sometime in the future. there's not some imaginary asexual gatekeeper that seeks you out if they learn that you have had sex and then takes away your right to identify as asexual.

what it comes down to is this: if you decide that you think the descriptions and definitions of asexuality fit you, then great. if you want to jump in and say "i'm ace!" then hey! congrats! welcome to the club! there's more of us than you'd expect lol and if you decide you just don't think that feels right, then that's chill too. all of this is completely separate of your decisions regarding actually having sex.

i broke down a lot of definitions and things for another anon recently (unless that was you too? haha), and you can find that here. maybe check it out and see if that helps clarify some things for you too.

basically, trust yourself. i believe that when you read something that describes who you KNOW yourself to be, it feels right. it's like something clicks into place in your brain and you realize you've found it. when you find that, accept it and protect it until it no longer feels right for you.

good luck, nonnie! i hope this has helped at least a little bit haha

#ace stuff #ace asks #asks #anonymous #mine

[yodawgiherd]

Gone Clubbing

>>>Read on AO3<<<

Coming hot from the Red Flag update, I wrote this chapter that is in a very similar light. It fits the story, so you can't blame me :P Enjoy!

The interior of the club was looking surprisingly normal. Dark colors, tasteful wooden decorations, tables and booths lining the walls. There was a bar in one corner, but the center of the whole club was undoubtedly the raised stage. It was empty now, Darius’ performance didn’t start yet, so Eren took the lead and maneuvered them towards the reserved booth.

Looking around, he realized one thing. Hey, they even fit here! Mikasa was looking amazing as ever and her goth getup worked well with the overall vibe of the club. Eren, who was dubbed a clown by both himself and his friends, also got substantially better, because black lipstick and nail polish were very far from the most eccentric clothing they saw.

“Look, that catsuit is the same as one of yours.”, he pointed out, making Mikasa look.

“It is..”, she agreed, inspecting the latex bodysuit of one of the visitors, “I guess Darius is making big bucks with custom-made gear.”

“He is an artist.”

“True that. Everything we got from him is amazing, so I will never disagree with his statements.”

Mikasa’s grey eyes slid towards the bar, pondering the question of “not getting hammered.” She could handle a few more drinks, especially when she asks for something with less alcohol, and there was no reason to just sit here dry.

“Well, I’ll get us something to drink, because I might get thirsty over the course of the evening.“, Mikasa stated, letting the double entendre hang in the air as she stood up and walked in the direction of the bar.

That’s when Eren’s phone rang, and a quick check showed that it was his mother calling. As one does not let his mother go into voicemail, he picked up, curious what she might want. They did see each other a few hours back.

“Mom?”

“E-Eren, you freak!”

That made him blink.

“Come again?”

“I know what you did! Mikasa spilled the beans and now I know… Everything! I don’t remember raising you like this!”

Eyes flying to where his fiancé was, Eren’s mind worked frantically around the words. Carla knew… everything? What did that mean? What did Mikasa tell her? He couldn’t imagine his reserved girlfriend bragging about anything embarrassing in public, so…

“Mom, what are you talking about?”

“I know that you… you had s… sex in public, Mikasa said so.”

Statement one – Carla was drunk, judging from how she mingled the words.

Statement two- What the fuck?!

Statement three – What on god’s green earth made Mikasa tell Carla such a thing. Fine, it was far from the worst that they’ve done, but still. It’s not something that you boast about to family members, and Eren would rather bite his tongue clear off than walk up to Levi and say: “Hey friend, did you know that I often tie your little sister up and do all kinds of freaky shit to her?”

“Well, I mean…”

But Carla didn’t even let him finish, another accusation flying Eren’s way.

“And you have a tattoo!”

“You said that it looked cool!”

“Yes but…”, she sniffled on the other side, “You were just a tiny little baby yesterday, and today you have a tattoo and a girlfriend and… s-sex… and…”

The sounds she was making were suspiciously like sobs.

“Mom? Are you okay?”

“Y-Yes... It’s…”, he could hear her shaky exhale, “I wasn’t here for such a big part of your life, I missed so much.”

“Mom I…”

“No, it’s my fault, I was the one who decided to leave. But no more. I promise that I’ll be around much more Eren, I want to remember what you do, I want to be a part of your life.”

“You are a part of my life mom.”

“Bigger part then.”

“Very well.”, he chuckled, “Do you want me to come over and talk?”

“No, I know when I’m drunk. Mikasa’s party was great but I feel like lying down now.”, Carla bit back a yawn, “Also, tell her that she looked beautiful today.”¨

“See? Even you tell me that she’s beautiful and you act all surprised when she tells you that we fu-… I mean that we are intimate. Like seriously, did you think that we were in some sort of celibate relationship where we kiss each other on the cheek and sleep in separate beds?”

“Okay Mr. Libido, where are my grandchildren then?”

If Eren was drinking anything, he would spit it out right now.

“Mom! What the hell?”

“I’m just saying Eren, if I die without seeing a single tiny bundle of joy from you and Mikasa, I’ll haunt you for the rest of your days.”

“I…”

“Shush, I’ll get out of your hair now. I love you Eren and tell Mikasa I love her too. She’s like the daughter I never had.”

“Now that would make things rather awkward between us.”

“You know what I mean! Once you finally push yourself to action and marry the poor girl, she’s going to be my in-law anyway.”

“Wait, did you say poor?”

“Good night sweetie!”

And with a click, Carla was gone. Putting the phone down, Eren’s eyes were drawn to Mikasa making her way back towards him, two glasses in hand. She moved through the club with her usual predatory grace, easily weaving through the people there, completely in her element. Eren wasn’t the only one watching her, he noticed, several pairs and individuals stole a look at the enchantingly beautiful goth girl that walked in their midst. Maybe it should have made Eren jealous, but all he felt was a pang of foolish pride in his chest. Yes, she’s so incredibly gorgeous, and she’s mine. Look, but don’t touch or we might have a problem. Or who was he kidding, Mikasa would definitely take care of herself. She was the one who, in high school, broke a hand of a guy who touched her without permission.

Reaching her destination, Mikasa slid down to the booth next to Eren, putting the glasses on the table. A bit driven by all the stares, he immediately took the opportunity to grab a sort of possessive hold of her, angling her face so he could kiss her. Way more aggressive and deeper than necessary, but he was buzzed just the right way not to care. Let anyone see how much he loves her. They were in a freaking BDSM club anyway, this was by far not the worst that happened here.

“Well hello stranger,”, she said once they broke apart, her cheeks all flushed and the black lipstick smeared around her lips, “Didn’t know that you were this grateful for the drink”

Keeping one hand wrapped around her, Eren took a sip of whatever she brought up, pleasantly surprised. It was good, way better than he expected even, as one would not think that a club like this needed an amazing bartender. There were other reasons why people came.

“Mom called.”, he announced, putting the glass back down, “She knows about our public adventures because you told her. May I know why?”

“Eeh, I couldn’t help it.”, Mikasa had an apologetic smile on her lips, “We were playing truth or dare, and it sort of came up.”

Truth or dare? That did sound like fun, and Eren regretted the dumb argument he got into with the other guys at the bar. Pulling out secrets from Hitch or Krista, or hell, his own mother, would have been amazing. Then again, he was here with Mikasa, they had drinks and the show didn’t start yet. So…

“Wanna have a little game of our own?”

“Why? We know exactly what we did.”

“Maybe it’s just an excuse to get you drunk.”

“Ooh, you sly bastard.”, Mikasa’s eyes narrowed, “You’re on.”

“Good, I’ll be taking the first word then.”

Eren cleared his throat, raised his glass, and began.

“Never have I ever been suspended from a ceiling.”

“Cheap shot.”, she commented.

“Could be, but still.”, he tapped her glass, “Drink, shibari lover.”

She did so, revenge forming in her head.

“Never have I ever licked someone’s boots.”

“And you talk about cheap shots.”, Eren clicked his tongue but drank.

“Never have I ever done a pole dance.”, he shot back.

Mikasa’s eyes were calculating as she took a sip.

“Maybe we will have to change that.”, she said before firing her volley, “Never have I ever filmed us having sex.”

“That tape is going to be useful one day. And we have so many more to make…”

Mikasa ignored the tingle that it sent down her spine, frowning at her fiancé.

“Sure thing, voyeur.”

Rolling his eyes, Eren drank.

“Never have  I ever wore cat ears during sex.”

“Yet.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing, nothing.”, with a mysterious smile, Mikasa drank.

“Never have I ever been in a chastity cage.”

“How the hell is that fair? You literally can’t even be in one.”

“There are similar devices for women, it’s fair play.”

“But…”

“No buts.”, she pointed at the glass in clear command, “Drink, puppy.”

Eren obeyed, eyes studying her even as he spoke.

“Never have I ever stepped on someone.”

“Oh please, you enjoyed it!”

“Sure did,”, Eren agreed,  “but that’s not the point of this game.”

Mikasa took a swig, a follow-up in her mind.

“Never have I ever come from a footjob.”

“Dirty.”, a sip, and it was Eren’s turn, “Never have I ever been taken against my will.”

“Can you really call it non-consent when I was the one who came up with the idea?”,  Mikasa wondered, clearly just stalling.

“Miki, I still have some of the photos I took of you back then. Should I pull them up as evidence and let the committee decide?”

Defeated by a sound argument, Mikasa drank.

“Maybe we could give it another shot, sometimes soon.”, she said, remembering how strange the experience was.

Terrifying and perfect at the same time, she was scared for her life when the Not-Eren threatened her, he managed to play the role of an abusive bastard so well. Maybe there was something about him being a bad guy in her dreams because at least party he could be such an asshole even in real life. If she begged nicely, that is.

“I’d have to ask Mr. Incognito if he has a free schedule.”, Eren joked, making Mikasa snicker, “But I have a faint feeling that he might squeeze you in.”

“Let’s leave it on open for now, who knows, maybe I will be the one in charge once we get around to the thing.”

That made Eren blink a few times.

“You want to do that to me?”

“Maybe..”, a bit of worry entered her face when she realized that Eren might not be into it. She had to be sure because Mikasa would never force him into something he didn’t want, that was a big No in their relationship.

“Don’t you want me to?”, she asked, but Eren shook his head.

“It’s not that I don’t want it, I honestly just have a hard time coming up with any scenario where I don’t want to have sex with you.”

“Tsk, don’t you worry about that. If I want it, I’ll come up with something.”

“Fine by me. Open it is then.”

With that topic solved, it was time to continue their game. Mikasa’s turn, she thought for a moment before she tried her next line.

“Never have I ever deepthroated a strap-on.”

But Eren was having none of that.

“Nah, but you did, don’t you remember the “class” you gave me?”

“That wasn’t a strap-on, it was a vibrator!”

“Close enough. Drink.”

Murmuring about unfair rules and crooked referees, Mikasa drank with Eren mirroring her.

“Never have I ever had anal sex.”, was his put, and Mikasa snorted in amusement. She couldn’t even count how many times Eren was either the giving or receiving party in anal sex, so she called him out on his bullshit.

“Seriously? Do you need me to spell it out for you?”, Mikasa moved closer, whispering, “Slut.”

It was magical how a single word could make Eren’s crotch tingle.

“No need, I did it on purpose.”, he drained his glass, putting it down, “I like the stuff they serve in here.”

Chuckling, Mikasa followed suit, both their drinks empty. Then, just as Eren was about to get up for a refill, the lights dimmed and the show began.

The figure that walked in on the stage was undoubtedly Darius Zackly, and he was followed by not one but two women, the player. One was dark-skinned and the other very pale, almost as much as Mikasa. To contrast their natural look, each wore lingerie of the opposite color, white on black and black on white, complete with high heels on their feet. No one spoke, the trio bowed to the crowd instead, almost dramatically, while two rings descended from above, stopping to hover over them.

Keeping his mysterious air, Darius held out a hand and the pale girl moved, grabbing a rope from the cart in the back and handing it to him. With the silky thing in hand, Zackly began his performance. He worked on the black girl first, coming up with an intricate design. Even the rope was white, Mikasa realized, a stark difference to the model’s skin. First, Darius tied her hands behind her back. The second rope went around her chest, tying her breasts in a very familiar design. Then he guided a rope through the metal ring, one that went from her tied hands to the chest bondage. With that, the ring rode up a bit, forcing the model to stretch her body and anchoring her in place.

“Isn’t the chest bondage the one you used on me?”, Mikasa whispered to Eren, recognizing the shapes.

He studied the way Darius worked the ropes for a moment.

“It is, you have a good eye. Although the binding on her hands is different than the one I used on you.”

“Because you tied me all the way from wrists to elbows.”, she made a tiny frown appear on her face, “I couldn’t move my hands at all.”

“Only the most secure bondage for a beast like you.”, he chuckled, kissing Mikasa’s scarred cheek, “I can’t edge you unless you are properly bound, otherwise you take control of the situation.”

“You better keep those skills up then.”

“For you Miki? Anything.”

The performance continued while they talked, and Darius was now working on the model’s legs. He didn’t touch her right leg, but her left was picked up and bend at the knee. Ropes sneaking around the limb, Zackly immobilized it, and that was it for the black girl. She was now balancing on one leg, but with the ropes pulling her up it wasn’t that much of a strain. With one model done, Darius turned his attention to the pale girl.

Retrieving a few more ropes from the cart, black ones this time, he closed the distance to his partner. Following the same path as before, Zackly tied her hands and chest first, copying the pattern. But then the show changed. He didn’t secure the model to the ring, he made her lie down instead, kneeling and working on her legs like that, with her on the floor. The ring started descending at the same time, going very, very low. Done with the design, Darius pulled the rope up and into the ring, anchoring it. And that’s when Eren realized what was happening.

“He’s hanging her upside down.”

“Ooh, that looks like fun.”, Mikasa poked Eren in the shoulder, “Why don’t you do that to me?”

“Eh, I don’t prefer it. When you are upside down, blood goes to your head quickly, so you have to be very mindful of the time. When I tie you up, I like to go slow, really enjoy you.”

“Hmm.”, Mikasa’s eyes were back on the performance.

She was chewing on something in her mind, and Eren had a chuckle when he realized what it was. So many things that they’ve done and Mikasa still had trouble asking him for something.

“We can try it if you want.”, he offered, making her face light up.

She leaned over to press a chaste kiss to his lips followed by a gentle whisper.

“Thanks, I’d like that.”

Just then the whirring resumed, and the ring began ascending, pulling the pale girl up. Upwards she went, until her whole body was off the floor and hanging from the ring, her blonde hair cascading around her face. It was the hangman position, Eren realized. And when Darius took a step back, both Mikasa and he finally took in the thing Zackly created as a whole. Contrast, that was the centerpiece of his performance. One girl was standing while the other was hanging upside down, both in the exact same position. One was dark-skinned yet wearing white lingerie and tied by a white rope, while the other was pale, wearing black and tied by a black rope. It was bondage, but at the same time it was art, and from the murmur that ran through the club they weren’t the only ones who realized that. The old man was an artist, no matter how you put it.

With a bow from Darius, his performance was finished. Both Eren and Mikasa joined in on the applause that resounded through the club, the show he put on was amazing. Once the ruckus began to die down and everyone got their fill of ogling the beautiful bondage design, Zackly untied the ladies while talking to them, laughing here and there. It was an interesting dynamic to see them like this, relaxed around each other, it betrayed that they all have been in this business for some time.

“Hello?”

As they were both watching the stage, neither Eren nor Mikasa saw the couple approach them. The woman was tall, made even taller by the extremely high heels on her shoes. It was the one that Eren noticed earlier, dressed in a latex bodysuit of the same design as one of Mikasa’s. The man at her side was much less eccentric, wearing jeans and a shirt, but when he nodded his head in greeting Eren saw that there was a collar around his neck, marking him as a property of the lady next to him.

“Hi,”, the woman repeated, “Did you like the show?”

Mikasa took the lead in answering.

“Yes, it was great, very artistic too.”

“That’s Zackly for you,”, the woman smirked, “He is amazing at what he does.”

“But we didn’t come here to fawn over Darius,”, that was the man speaking, nudging his partner, “Did we, sweetie?”

“Right, no, we didn’t. We came to talk to you for a reason.”

“Which is?”, Eren asked.

The woman faced Mikasa when she spoke, the words aimed at her.

“I hope that we aren’t too straightforward, but my husband saw you at the bar, and he was quite taken by you.”

Eren had to bite back a laugh at how Mikasa’s eyes widened.

“H-huh?”, was all she managed.

“We were wondering if you would be willing to do a partner exchange for a night or two, maybe a weekend.”, the collared husband took the word, “If you guys are into it, of course.”

“He’s a bottom, as you might have guessed,” the latex-clad woman followed up, “and from watching you I’d guess that you are the top in your relationship? You have that air of dominance around you.”

“I-I do?”, Mikasa choked out, much to Eren’s amusement.

But he wasn’t spared either, as the woman’s eyes slid over to him.

“You don’t have to worry either pretty boy, I promise that I’d take good care of you. I’m an experienced dominatrix.”

Now it was Eren’s eyes widening. He and Mikasa looked at each other, neither knowing what to say. Seeing their slight panic, the man grinned.

“I feel like we started with a wrong question, we should have asked if you are in an open relationship first.”

“That’s right, our fault.”, the woman agreed immediately, “Sorry if we are making you uncomfortable with this.”

Finally understanding what this was about, Mikasa blushed but reached out, taking hold of Eren’s arm.

“No, we are not open.”, she said, meeting the woman’s eyes, “We are very closed.”

“Yep, just me and her, no one else.”

“Aw, that’s too bad, you guys are something else.”, the woman clicked her tongue, “Oh well, can’t have everything.”

“We will take our leave then.”, the man said, unbothered by the refusal, “Have a pleasant evening.”

With that, he walked away and deeper into the club. The woman stole a last wanton look at Eren before following, her heels clicking against the floor. The stunned silence that came didn’t even get a chance to properly cook before a new figure appeared. Familiar one this time, it was Darius who slid into the booth, grinning at the pair.

“Eren! Mikasa! I knew that I saw you!”

His joy was infectious, and the cold feeling was being melted by his presence alone.

“That was an amazing show,”, Eren complimented him straight off the bat, “You are so good with the rope.”

“Bah, just years of training. Plus judging from our talk, you are pretty good yourself, the forms you wanted to do were rather advanced.”, his gaze went over to Mikasa, “Isn’t that correct, miss Ackerman?”

She nodded, feeling way more relaxed around Darius than the two from before. But his mention of her, Eren’s significant other, combined with how the pair talked about open relationships and brought a question out of Mikasa, one that she was pondering ever since they entered the club.

“Darius, aren’t you married?”

“Sure am.”

“And your wife… does she know about this?”

“But of course, I don’t think that keeping such a big thing secret is a good idea.”, Zackly sighed, “I keep trying to make her come here, but this scene doesn’t interest her at all.”

“So she doesn’t mind you working with other women?”

“Not at all, she knows that I appreciate the art in bondage, not the sexuality.”

“That’s very open-minded of her.”

“I mean, I work in a sex shop,”, Darius shrugged, “I never kept what I like hidden.”

Smart approach, if they ever heard one. Seeing that he satisfied Mikasa’s curiosity, Darius put forward his idea.

“Are you liking the club?”

Two heads nodded to that.

“What about the performance, looked like fun, right?”

“For sure.”

Well then…

“The thing is, you guys could perform here too if you wanted.”

“W-What?”, Eren exchanged a bewildered look with Mikasa, “You’re joking, right?”

“Why would I?”, Darius continued, completely unmoved, “How long have you two been in this biz?”

“A bit over four years at this point?”, Eren guessed and Mikasa agreed silently.

“And I’d guess that you have the skills for it.”

“I mean…”

But they did, all the plays and scenes they did together amounted to a fair amount of skill when it came to the act. Mikasa knew how to maneuver her sub expertly, Eren knew how to tie her up without worrying that he might hurt her. The experience did matter. Having a quick mental conversation, they both agreed in the end.

“See? I’m willing to bet that either of you could easily take the stage. Forgive me for saying, but you two are very, very hot. In fact, I’d go as far as saying that you two are the hottest couple I’ve seen here, and you would be in high demand.”, he gestured around, “If I walked around the club and asked every single person in here if they would perform with you, I’m pretty sure that I could count the number of “No.” on fingers of one hand.”

He redirected his attention to the pair.

“From the various gear I sold you, I’d guess that you are both switches, right?”

This time it was Mikasa who answered, agreeing cautiously.

“See? Even better. The possibilities would be endless..”

This felt like the same conversation they had with the pair from earlier.

“Look, the thing is, I don’t think that either I or Mikasa would be willing to ever perform with anyone else.”, Eren cut into his monologue, “We are very… possessive of one another.”

Mikasa was again just nodding to his words, shuffling closer and wrapping her hand around Eren’s waist. He did the same, surprising her a bit when Eren pulled Mikasa to sit on his lap. Talk about needing to express your attachment physically.

“We are super exclusive to each other.”

Seeing that and hearing her words, Darius grinned.

“You guys are just adorable. This devotion you have, this is rare to see and it’s so beautiful.”

“T-Thanks.”

“But still, if you want, you could totally perform as a pair. Even exclusive, seeing one of you work the other would give the guests something to dream about.”

“Look, we will think about it.”

“Of course! No one will ever force you into anything.”, Darius calmed them immediately, “Your comfort and consent are the most important things here.”

He said his piece, got the offer out, and there were still several people he needed to talk to. So bidding the half-confused half-surprised pair a quick goodbye and see you soon, Darius stood up and disappeared towards the bar. Eren was the one who broke the silence Zackly left behind, rubbing Mikasa’s back in a soothing motion.

“So, what do you think?”

She shifted on his lap, chewing her dark bottom lip cautiously for a moment before answering.

“Ask me a year back and I would say No. Ask me two years back and I’d laugh at you. Ask me three years back and I wouldn’t talk to you for a week. But now…”

“Let’s add it to our pile of open topics.”, Eren proposed, “No need to worry about that now.”

With that out of the way, Mikasa grew more relaxed again. Just when Eren was returning from the bar with refilled drinks, she looked up at him, eyes sparkling.

“We should bring Ymir and Krista here.”

“Why is that?”

“Krista needs a confidence boost. She wants to top Ymir, but she keeps questioning herself, so uncertain about it all.”, Mikasa gestured around, “Being here, I think that it could bring her inner domme out.”

“From what I hear you are sure that there will be a next time?”

Realizing the meaning of her words, Mikasa smirked.

“I would want that. I like it here.”

“Ah, look at us – the quiet goth girl from the back of the class and the grade-a student. How far we’ve come.”

“Indeed, but I’m enjoying these changes. Do you?”

“As if you had to ask. When I’m with you, I’ll go for anything, and do you feel like stopping what we do?”

Mikasa’s black lips curled upwards as she shook her head.

“Hell no.”

This year’s birthday was amazing and Mikasa made sure to thank Eren properly once they got home. But the amazing night would have a sadder continuation because, despite all the great fun that she experienced tonight, Mikasa’s dreams were once again disturbed by an unwelcome visitor.

A nightmare.

#eremika #fanfic #snk #aot

[fangirl-on-bitches]

Dream

Obi-Wan x Reader OneShot.

Word Count: 1491

Warnings/AN: Based of the best dream I ever had. Slight AU ( I would call it more like a canon divergence), but it was fun in my head. As it was a dream the places don't really belong to anything I saw in Star Wars. It has some plot at the beginning but towards the end there’s like no plot. I just love this man.

Summary: You are an ally of Padmé Amidala. The place? A senator banquet in Coruscant. Padmé is actually on the separatist side but no one knows, except for you, of course. You are in charge of disposing the body that both Padmé and you are responsible for killing.

_________

It was always all pleasantries and formalities amongst senators. You knew this well, and were trained to fake them wonderfully. Even with all the adrenaline running through your veins you kept a polite smile and a straight back, nodding and chuckling whenever you had to.

Padmé, who was also faking by your side, was quick to give you a hint to leave and finish business. She excused herself from you with a credible and common senator excuse "I need to discuss private matters with senator Alavar, my friend, excuse us."

"Of course, m'lady." You said out of habit. With a confident stride you walked through the banquet, admiring the crystal dome showing some stars, mostly hidden by the artificial lights of Coruscant. The art gallery where the banquet was taking place was pompous and did not reflect the current war situation going all around the galaxy. Enormous paints decorated the walls and a mix of gold and marble could be seen in columns and wide staircases, a black piano contrasting perfectly with the ambience.

Thankfully, your diseased objective was well hidden. Senator Kharrus was a big Gran but once dead he fitted perfectly in the commode by the bed, all you had to do next was dispose him safely somewhere in the dumps of Coruscant, throwing him down some levels should do the trick.

You had to change to more discrete clothes and hairdo. A two piece black set, a tight ponytail and a cloak later you were ready to begin the operation. The hallways of the grand hotel were quiet and private as many senators usually had some illicit activities going on.

The commode was of course, no ordinary commode. It had wheels and looked a lot like a suitcase, so anyone who might cross your path would think you are just leaving. Of course, you didn't expect to cross paths with anyone on this floor, as senator would be returning to their rooms in later hours.

However, your plan wasn't perfect. Both Padmé and you weren't informed about the weak Jedi patrol around the hotel and it's perimeter. This was no problem, after all, you had a speeder with your accomplice waiting for you at the entrance of the hotel, you just had to get on the elevator and descend to the ground floor.

It stopped halfway through, a Jedi master entering the elevator. You were too distracted and a bit anxious to notice it was Obi-Wan Kenobi, Padmé's old friend and your well known acquaintance. He greeted you with polite smile, his dreamy eyes glinting. "Master Kenobi." You bowed slightly, a small blush creeping up your neck. "Making rounds?"

"I'm afraid so." He replied with a sigh. "But I can't complain, this is by far less stressful than the battlefield." In an attempt to inflate his ego and distract him from whatever question he may ask, you then turn to him with a worried expression.

"Oh my, the battlefield?" You batted your eyelashes slyly. "I bet it's so harsh to command battalions and lead attacks. How do you handle that?" Obi-Wan chuckled slightly, shaking his head.

"It's a little stressful and time consuming, but nothing we can't handle together."

"By together you mean...?"

"Together would include Anakin, his padawan and of course Cody and Rex, the commanders, alongside all the battalions." You nodded and quickly looked how long before you reached your destination. Not much.

"So I guess I should be calling you General Kenobi, after all, I call Anakin 'General Skywalker'."

"Oh, there's no need for that, my dear." To your dismay, the Jedi was also going to the ground floor, and because he was such a gentleman and so nice he scorted you to your speeder. You almost melt in your seat when the speeder began to fly away from the Jedi. The journey wasn't long; with your hood up to hide your identity you thought about Obi Wan Kenobi.

It was a waste such a wonderful looking man was a Jedi. He was so... Uptight as well. All bark and no bite, he's the type of Jedi that flirts and flatters left and right, but does not touch a single hair of your perfect head.

You knew, everyone in Gossip Infested Coruscant knew, Jedi aren't celibate, and this made you want to make a move on the Jedi. He was such a nice view for sore eyes, although there was something off with him. Maybe it was his formality or that he simply lacked a pinch of malice in his oh so pure jedi-soul.

Before thinking too much on his amazing smile and hair, or his incredibly well kept beard, or even before imagining the strong pair of arms under his robes (and whatever other goods are hidden down there) the speeder stopped.

The stink of the trash compactor was so evident and penetrating you were surprised you haven't gagged yet. With the help of your accomplice you threw the body, which was inside a black bag, in the compactor watching how it got crushed and no witnesses to take care off.

As soon as you got to your hotel room you took a quick shower, covering yourself in perfume and soap to cover whatever trace of trash smell could be left. You got into your pompous senator like dress, which was actually nicer and more comfortable than most senator dresses. A beautiful emerald-green long dress with your hair down and a few accessories to complement.

You rejoined the party with a soft nod to Padmé. The job was finished. With the grace of a lady, and the hunger of a lion, you attacked the banquet, trying to look as composed as possible. As you were looking at the desserts you noticed two people you knew. General Skywalker and his padawan, Ahsoka Tano, stood in their Jedi robes watching over the party. The girl noticed you, waving with a sweet smile. You walked with a smile on your face, that pair were your favourite Jedi.

"Good evening General, Commander." You greeted maintaining formalities. Anakin nodded and Ahsoka smiled. "You have to do rounds too?" You asked, remembering Kenobi.

"Who did you cross paths with?" Ahsoka asked.

"With Master Kenobi. I met him in the elevator an hour ago." You replied, remembering his handsome smile. Some small talk later you decided to walk to the piano. You sat and started to play some Naboo melody, intended to be background music, more than anything else.

You were so concentrated in playing the correct keys at the correct pace that when a cold hand placed itself on your shoulder you almost yelped. You looked up, and Obi-Wan's chiseled face smiled down at you. Of course, you stopped playing the piano. "General, we meet again."

"A pleasure meeting you so often, my dear." He replied, his hand squeezing your shoulder lightly. "May I take the lovely-looking lady for a walk?" He offered his hand, leaving a longing trace in your shoulder. You took his hand and stood up, he then smoothly interwined his arm with yours, scorting you to wherever he wanted to go.

"Aren't you on duty?" You ask curiously, looking at the man by your side. "Don't get me wrong, I L-enjoy the pleasure of your company but I wouldn't want to distract you from you duties." You corrected yourself before saying you loved the pleasure of his company, he may take it the wrong way.

"I just finished my duty, Ahsoka and Anakin came to cover my spot." You nodded, noticing how you were now out of the banquet, heading towards the private gardens with a great view from Coruscant. You yawned, sitting on a marble bench, the Jedi following suit. "Long day?"

"You wouldn't even imagine. Talking with all the senators is really draining."

"I feel the same way sometimes, but from all the people on the banquet today, you are my favourite to talk to."

"Well, yeah, I'm not a politician." You rolled your eyes playfully, trying to ignore the fact that you where his favourite. "Does that mean you like talking to me more than you like talking to Anakin?"

"Anakin... It's complicated. He talks too much. And Ahsoka too." Obi Wan admitted making you chuckle.

"Well, they are younger than us." You pointed out, making the Jedi nod. Then he started to talk about how much energy they had and how loud they could sometimes be. His voice was so soothing, your eyes started to close. You were resting but could still listen to him. At some point your head found his shoulder.

"I see my words are not enjoyable." He told you, his voice softer than before. You shook your head slightly, one of your arms snaking and holding his left arm, looking for warmness.

"Please keep talking, your voice is relaxing." You could hear a smile as be proceeded to talk and describe his war life in the Outer Rims.

_______________

AN: Hi! So, my dream wasn’t actually like this 100%. The elevator part was added for more Obi-Wan. But in my dream, in the piano part, Obi-Wan touched my shoulder and told me “I know what you did, my dear.” and then I woke up. It sounds creepy but it was not creepy in my dream it was more like a seductive affirmation lol. So that’s why the end sucks sorry :(

#obi wan kenobi #obi wan x reader #obi wan #kenobi #obi #obiwan #star wars

[dreadwulf]

*sigh* Okay, I just had to write this all out to get it off my chest and hopefully get over it and move on.

People tell me I look just like Brienne of Tarth. I’m tall, blonde, broad-shouldered, and homely. I get mistaken for a man, even when I have long hair that goes all down my back, even wearing a dress. I’ve gotten used to it.

My earliest memory of school is lying on the ground while a crowd of boys are kicking and hitting me, because I was an ugly freak. Girls grow earlier than boys do, you see. I was the tallest kid in my elementary, and I was hated for it. I endured constant abuse. When I got a little bit older, and I was almost 6 feet tall when I was 12, the abuse mostly turned away from being physical and into emotional and psychological. Girls followed me into the bathroom, laughing at how my clothes didn’t fit, how awkward I was, how masculine. Boys no longer hit me, just ignored or ridiculed me. Because it was the 80s I heard constant references to the East German olympic team, how I looked like a member. I didn’t understand the references at the time, but I knew it was yet another reference to how I didn’t measure up as a woman. Much later I learned about how those women were dosed with testosterone by the government against their will - a terrible story that the people around me regarded as a joke.  There’s nothing funnier than a manish woman, apparently.

When I was young I was undatable, never considered an option to anyone. I never kissed anyone until I was in my twenties, and was a virgin until I was 25. It’s bizarre when I look back now at photos of myself, because I’m expecting a hideous monster, and all I see is an ordinary girl - a little taller, broad-shouldered and plain, not pretty, but ordinary. But it all got into my head, you see. Inside I still feel like a freak. Undesireable. Unloved.

I started watching Game of Thrones from the first episode (mainly because I’m a big fan of Peter Dinklage!), and I was intrigued. Intrigued, but not obsessed, not yet. I’m a grown woman and I don’t have time for that sort of thing. But the first time Brienne of Tarth took off her helmet onscreen and I saw her face, I literally pointed at the screen and said out loud, “that’s me!”

Never in my life have I reacted that way before. Never before, and never since.

Granted, the actress who plays her is a great beauty, but the character of Brienne I latched onto instantly and felt a deep kinship with, especially after reading her story in the books. How as a child she was a girl very much like Sansa, who loved songs and romance and dancing and other girlish things, but the adults around her told her she was too ugly. Her septa told her no one would ever love or want her. She was shamed for wearing dresses and trying to be feminine, was told she was embarassing herself because her body was not womanly enough. She was made to feel like a failure just for existing, for being umarriagable, for causing the end of her house by being so ugly that no one wanted her. But instead of just crumbling and disappearing, Brienne of Tarth took up a sword and decided to make something else of herself. She wanted to help people, she wanted to contribute something to the world, and she decided to find a good lord and serve them as a knight. Brienne is brave and caring and defends the weak and wants to protect the people she loves. Brienne is a hero. She is a hero while not being tiny and delicate and pretty but large, sturdy, and ugly. In that she is completely unique, and completely wonderful.

A lot of old wounds opened up, watching that story and reading A Feast For Crows. Old issues I thought I was over all came back up. I identified powerfully with having your femininity stolen from you because your body is different, with being abused for not being woman enough, and with longing for love in a world that hates you. I remembered being hated, constantly and visciously hated, just for existing. I relived the bone-deep belief that I would spend my entire life alone, because no one would ever want me, a belief that was constantly validated by the actual people around me. I became painfully aware of the sense that I still have to this day of being constantly too big, too loud, too much, that has me slouching and shrinking and taking up less space and whispering timidly and the effect that those things have had on my life and career to this day.

And watching Brienne’s story, I saw how someone can endure the same things I did, and keep trying. Can keep struggling to succeed, and even fall in love. That was the most amazing thing of all, you see. This woman on television who looked like me, she was a love interest! She had her own romantic storyline! I could hardly believe it at first. I watched through my fingers trying to talk myself out of hoping. Because this never happens - an ugly woman, a masculine woman, is never desirable in fiction, never important enough to the story to be a love interest, and never worthy of romance. Yet here it was, it was happening right in front of my eyes.

Her love story with Jaime Lannister was a competely unique thing on television. An ugly woman with a beautiful man. A bond of deep respect and admiration, with undeniable sexual tension. Here were two people who can understand each other because they have both been hated for reasons beyond their control, who sought refuge in honor and knighthood and were loathed for it. Brienne understood how hatred can warp a person, make them someone they never meant to be, just the way she herself had been made to harden and close off to the world. She saw the person that Jaime might have been, if things had gone differently, and the man he could still become. Jaime for his part saw worth in her when everyone around him called her ridiculous, even though she was his enemy. He still knew that she was more deserving than any knight in Westeros, and believed in her when no one else in the world did. He gave her a sword and a quest and even a squire, lost his hand defending her, and he put his own life on the line to save hers.

Jaime openly adored her, looked at her like she was the most wonderful thing in the world, and I have never seen anything like that. A woman who looks like me, being looked at like that. Do you know what that felt like for me? Can you imagine it?

This story meant a lot to me, is what I’m saying. It was healing for me. I believed in that story, and I expected that even if there wouldn’t be a happy ending, at least there would be that respect for the character, and that she would be taken seriously by the narrative and her story would be completed in some fashion.

And then they aired Season 8.

In season 8 we learn that not only did the show never bother to adapt her storylines from the books, where she is slated to face Lady Stoneheart and the Brotherhood Without Banners, they gave her no story in replacement. She has no material impact on the storyline of the show, she simply doesn’t matter in any way. The only major storyline they kept from the books was her romance with Jaime Lannister, and in Season 8 they destroy that story in the cruelest possible way.

After emphasizing that Brienne is an adult virgin, they give her one scene with what we thought was her love interest, where they share one kiss. One. Onscreen within seconds of Brienne being naked Jaime looks dissatisfied and unhappy, and in the same episode, leaves her to go back to his traditionally beautiful ex. Leaves her crying and pleading with him to stay. And then her story ends, except for a brief bookend where she writes an entry in the White Book showing she still loved him, even though he abandoned and betrayed her in the worst way possible.

Right now I’d really like to know if anyone involved with this show ever gave a moment’s thought to what it would be like to watch that happen. After years of patiently waiting to get the love story we were promised for five seasons, instead, to humiliate and punish Brienne for daring to think she deserved love. Did anyone ever consider what that would feel like for women like me? If they did think about it, I hope they enjoyed the hurt they caused me, because the way this story played out felt outright malicious and hateful. They could have given me one tender moment, one declaration of love or affection, just to know what it would look like to see that onscreen for a woman like me. Instead they deliberately withheld that. And then went out of their way to invalidate absolutely everything about the storyline we had been watching, as if it had never happened, as if we had imagined it all, and been foolish to believe in it in the first place.

Yes, I know, it’s only a story, but stories matter. We wouldn’t put nearly the effort and investment into them that we do as a culture if they didn’t. My story has never mattered before, and it meant something to me over the last 8 years that someone was telling it. So was this ending intended as a deliberate slap in my face, or was that collateral damage that the show simply did not care about?

The messages sent by our media are sometimes unintentional, but they are usually given at least some consideration. So I wonder what sort of message was trying to be sent by giving the gender non-comforming woman who dared to open her heart an immediate rejection, and have her then swear to serve a celibate organization for the rest of her life? Giving up her inheritance, her island, her own sworn vows to Sansa, and everything else she cared about? Am I meant to regard this as a happy ending, I wonder? Her feelings and dreams don’t matter, but hey, she has a position in the small council, so Girl Power! Was there a single woman anywhere involved in this production who might have pointed out how awful this is?

I understand that what’s done is done and there’s no fixing this, and complaining about it is pointless. But what I really want, what I wish for, is for somebody to confirm that at least at some point this was a love story, and that for whatever reason, network interference or showrunner decision or whatever it was, it was changed at the last minute. Just tell me that at some point the intent was real. To know that would be helpful. Because right now I feel like a stupid chump for ever believing that anybody wanted a woman like me to have a love story, and you cannot imagine how much that hurts.

#braime #brienne of tarth #jaime x brienne

[star-anise]

do you have any sources on the claims you made? im always willing to change my stance if you have legitimate backing for it haha

So first, I’m sorry for blowing up at you the way that I did. I’m not proud that I reacted in such a kneejerk, aggressive fashion. Thank you for being open to hearing what I have to say. I’m sorry for mistaking you for a TERF, and I’m sorry my response has caused other people to direct their own hostility towards you.

So, here’s the thing. “You can’t call bi women femmes” is pretty intrinsically a radfem thing to say, and I am deeply opposed to letting radfems tell me what to do. I’m trying to write this during a weekend packed with childcare and work. I’ll try to hit all the high notes.

The one thing I am having trouble finding is the longass post I talked about in my reply, that was a history of butch/femme relationships in lesbian bars, which had frequent biphobic asides and talked about “the lesbophobic myth of the bi-rejecting lesbian”; the friend who reblogged it without reading it thoroughly has deleted it, and I can’t find it on any of the tags she remembers looking at around that time. If anyone can find it, I’ll put up a link.

As far as possible, I’m linking to really widely accessible sources, because you shouldn’t intrinsically trust a random post on Tumblr as secret privileged knowledge. People have talked about this at length in reputable publications that your local library either has, or can get through interlibrary loan; you can look up any of the people here, read their work, and decide for yourself. This is a narrative of perspectives, and while I obviously have a perspective, many people disagree with me. At the end of the day, the only reason I need for calling bi women femmes is that You Are Not The Boss Of Me. There is no centralized authority on LGBT+ word usage, nor do I think there should be. Hopefully this post will give you a better sense of what the arguments are, and how to evaluate peoples’ claims in the future.

I looked up “butch” and “femme” with my library’s subscription to the Oxford English Dictionary because that’s where you find the most evidence of etymology and early use, and found:

“Femme” is the French word for “woman”.  It’s been a loanword in English for about 200 years, and in the late 19th century in America it was just a slangy word for “women”, as in, “There were lots of femmes there for the boys to dance with”

“Butch” has been used in American English to mean a tough, masculine man since the late 19th century; in the 1930s and 1940s it came to apply to a short masculine haircut, and shortly thereafter, a woman who wore such a haircut. It’s still used as a nickname for masculine cis guys–my godfather’s name is Martin, but his family calls him Butch. By the 1960s in Britain, “butch” was slang for the penetrating partner of a pair of gay men.

Butch/femme as a dichotomy for women arose specifically in the American lesbian bar scene around, enh, about the 1940s, to enh, about the 1960s. Closet-keys has a pretty extensive butch/femme history reader. This scene was predominantly working-class women, and many spaces in it were predominantly for women of colour. This was a time when “lesbian” literally meant anyone who identified as a woman, and who was sexually or romantically interested in other women. A lot of the women in these spaces were closeted in the rest of their lives, and outside of their safe spaces, they had to dress normatively, were financially dependent on husbands, etc. Both modern lesbians, and modern bisexual women, can see themselves represented in this historical period.

These spaces cross-pollinated heavily with ball culture and drag culture, and were largely about working-class POC creating spaces where they could explore different gender expressions, gender as a construct and a performance, and engage in a variety of relationships. Butch/femme was a binary, but it worked as well as most binaries to do with sex and gender do, which is to say, it broke down a lot, despite the best efforts of people to enforce it. It became used by people of many different genders and orientations whose common denominator was the need for safety and discretion. “Butch” and “femme” were words with meanings, not owners.

Lesbianism as distinct from bisexuality comes from the second wave of feminism, which began in, enh, the 1960s, until about, enh, maybe the 1980s, maybe never by the way Tumblr is going. “Radical” feminism means not just that this is a new and more exciting form of feminism compared to the early 20th century suffrage movement; as one self-identified radfem professor of mine liked to tell us every single lecture, it shares an etymology with the word “root”, meaning that sex discrimination is at the root of all oppression.

Radical feminism blossomed among college-educated women, which also meant, predominantly white, middle- or upper-class women whose first sexual encounters with women happened at elite all-girls schools or universities. Most of these women broke open the field of “women’s studies” and the leading lights of radical feminism often achieved careers as prominent scholars and tenured professors.

Radical feminism established itself as counter to “The Patriarchy”, and one of the things many early radfems believed was, all men were the enemy. All men perpetuated patriarchy and were damaging to women. So the logical decision was for women to withdraw from men in all manner and circumstances–financially, legally, politically, socially, and sexually. “Political lesbianism” wasn’t united by its sexual desire for women; many of its members were asexual, or heterosexual women who decided to live celibate lives. This was because associating with men in any form was essentially aiding and abetting the enemy.

Look, I’ll just literally quote Wikipedia quoting an influential early lesbian separatist/radical feminist commune: “The Furies recommended that Lesbian Separatists relate “only (with) women who cut their ties to male privilege” and suggest that “as long as women still benefit from heterosexuality, receive its privileges and security, they will at some point have to betray their sisters, especially Lesbian sisters who do not receive those benefits”“

This cross-pollinated with the average experience of WLW undergraduates, who were attending school at a time when women weren’t expected to have academic careers; college for women was primarily seen as a place to meet eligible men to eventually marry. So there were definitely women who had relationships with other women, but then, partly due to the pressure of economic reality and heteronormativity, married men. This led to the phrase LUG, or “lesbian until graduation”, which is the kind of thing that still got flung at me in the 00s as an openly bisexual undergrad. Calling someone a LUG was basically an invitation to fight.

The assumption was that women who marry men when they’re 22, or women who don’t stay in the feminist academic sphere, end up betraying their ideals and failing to have solidarity with their sisters. Which seriously erases the many contributions of bi, het, and ace women to feminism and queer liberation. For one, I want to point to Brenda Howard, the bisexual woman who worked to turn Pride from the spontaneous riots in 1969 to the nationwide organized protests and parades that began in 1970 and continue to this day. She spent the majority of her life to a male partner, but that didn’t diminish her contribution to the LGBT+ community.

Lesbian separatists, and radical feminists, hated Butch/Femme terminology. They felt it was a replication of unnecessarily heteronormative ideals. Butch/femme existed in an LGBT+ context, where gays, lesbians, bisexuals, and transgender people understood themselves to have more in common with each other than with, say, cis feminists who just hated men more than they loved women. 

The other main stream of feminist thought at the time was Liberal Feminism, which was like, “What if we can change society without totally rejecting men?” and had prominent figures like Gloria Steinem, who ran Ms magazine. Even today, you’ll hear radfems railing against “libfems” and I’m like, my good women, liberal feminism got replaced thirty years ago. Please update your internal schema of “the enemy”

Lesbian separatism was… plagued by infighting. To maintain a “woman-only” space, they had to kick out trans women (thus, TERFs), women who slept with men (thus, biphobia), women who enjoyed kinky sex or pornography or engaged in sex work (thus, SWERFS) and they really struggled to raise their male children in a way that was… um… anti-oppressive. (I’m biased; I know people who were raised in lesbian separatist communes and did not have great childhoods.) At the same time, they had other members they very much wanted to keep, even though their behaviour deviated from the expected program, so you ended up with spectacles like Andrea Dworkin self-identifying as a lesbian despite being deeply in love with and married to a self-identified gay man for twenty years, despite beng famous for the theory that no woman could ever have consensual sex with a man, because all she could ever do was acquiesce to her own rape.

There’s a reason radical feminism stopped being a major part of the public discourse, and also a reason why it survives today: While its proponents became increasingly obsolete, they were respected scholars and tenured university professors. This meant people like Camille Paglia and Mary Daly, despite their transphobia and racism, were considered important people to read and guaranteed jobs educating young people who had probably just moved into a space where they could meet other LGBT people for the very first time. So a lot of modern LGBT people (including me) were educated by radical feminist professors or assigned radical feminist books to read in class.

The person I want to point to as a great exemplar is Alison Bechdel, a white woman who discovered she was a lesbian in college, was educated in the second-wave feminist tradition, but also identified as a butch and made art about the butch/femme dichotomy’s persistence and fluidity. You can see part of that tension in her comic; she knows the official lesbian establishment frowns on butch/femme divisions, but it’s relevant to her lived experience.

What actually replaced radical feminism was not liberal feminism, but intersectional feminism and the “Third Wave”. Black radical feminists, like Audre Lorde, bell hooks, and Kimberlé Williams Crenshaw, pointed out that many white radical feminists were ignoring race as a possible cause of oppression, and failing to notice how their experiences differed from Black womens’. Which led to a proliferation of feminists talking about other oppressions they faced: Disabled feminists, Latina feminists, queer feminists, working-class feminists. It became clear that even if you eliminated the gender binary from society, there was still a lot of bad shit that you had to unlearn–and also, a lot of oppression that still happened in lesbian separatist spaces.

I’ve talked before about how working in women-only second-wave spaces really destroyed my faith in them and reinforced my belief in intersectional feminism

Meanwhile, back in the broader queer community, “queer” stuck as a label because how people identified was really fluid. Part of it is that you learn by experience, and sometimes the only way to know if something works for you is to try it out, and part of it is that, as society changed, a lot more people became able to take on new identities without as much fear. So for example, you have people like Pat Califia, who identified as a lesbian in the 70s and 80s, found far more in common with gay leather daddies than sex-negative lesbians, and these days identifies as a bisexual trans man.

Another reason radical feminists hate the word “queer”, by the way, is queer theory, which wants to go beyond the concept of men oppressing women, or straights oppressing gays, but to question this entire system we’ve built, of sex, and gender, and orientation. It talks about “queering” things to mean “to deviate from heteronormativity” more than “to be homosexual”. A man who is married to a woman, who stays at home and raises their children while she works, is viewed as “queer” inasmuch as he deviates from heteronormativity, and is discriminated against for it.

So, I love queer theory, but I will agree that it can be infuriating to hear somebody say that as a single (cis het) man he is “queer” in the same way being a trans lesbian of colour is “queer”, and get very upset and precious about being told they’re not actually the same thing. I think that actually, “queer as a slur” originated as the kind of thing you want to scream when listening to too much academic bloviating, like, “This is a slur! Don’t reclaim it if it didn’t originally apply to you! It’s like poor white people trying to call themselves the n-word!” so you should make sure you are speaking about a group actually discriminated against before calling them “queer”. On the other hand, queer theory is where the theory of “toxic masculinity” came from and we realized that we don’t have to eliminate all men from the universe to reduce gender violence; if we actually pay attention to the pressures that make men so shitty, we can reduce or reverse-engineer them and encourage them to be better, less sexist, men.

But since radfems and queer theorists are basically mortal enemies in academia, radical feminists quite welcomed the “queer as a slur” phenomenon as a way to silence and exclude people they wanted silenced and excluded, because frankly until that came along they’ve been losing the culture wars.

This is kind of bad news for lesbians who just want to float off to a happy land of only loving women and not getting sexually harrassed by men. As it turns out, you can’t just turn on your lesbianism and opt out of living in society. Society will follow you wherever you go. If you want to end men saying gross things to lesbians, you can’t just defend lesbianism as meaning “don’t hit on me”; you have to end men saying gross things to all women, including bi and other queer women.  And if you do want a lesbian-only space, you either have to accept that you will have to exclude and discriminate against some people, including members of your community whose identities or partners change in the future, or accept that the cost of not being a TERF and a biphobe is putting up with people in your space whose desires don’t always resemble yours.

Good god, this got extensive and I’ve been writing for two hours.

So here’s the other thing.

My girlfriend is a femme bi woman. She’s married to a man.

She’s also married to two women.

And dating a man.

And dating me (a woman).

When you throw monogamy out the window, it becomes EVEN MORE obvious that “being married to a man” does not exclude a woman from participation in the queer community as a queer woman, a woman whose presentation is relevant in WLW contexts. Like, this woman is in more relationships with women at the moment than some lesbians on this site have been in for their entire lives.

You can start out with really clear-cut ideas about “THIS is what my life is gonna be like” but then your best friend’s sexual orientation changes, or your lover starts to transition, and things in real life are so much messier than they look when you’re planning your future. It’s easy to be cruel, exclusionary, or dismissive to people you don’t know; it’s a lot harder when it’s people you have real relationships with.

And my married-to-a-man girlfriend? Uses “butch” and “femme” for reasons very relevant to her queerness and often fairly unique to femme bi women, like, “I was out with my husband and looking pretty femme, so I guess they didn’t clock me as a queer” or “I was the least butch person there, so they didn’t expect me to be the only one who uses power tools.” Being a femme bi woman is a lot about invisibility, which is worth talking about as a queer experience instead of being assumed to exclude us from the queer community.

#cherryhearrts #staranise original #answered asks #ranting in bisexual #lgbt discourse #terf shit #exclusionist shit #radfem shit #apologies to my girlfriend for not including carole queen in this post #she just didn't fit baby

[nerdygaymormon]

Straight & Gay single members have different church experience

Many a time I’ve had straight members of the LDS Church tell me that being a gay member is no different than an older, straight single adult who never marries. That both are expected to be celibate and remain active in church.

Usually it’s said in a way to mean you’re experience is nothing special, there’s nothing extraordinary asked of you. Stop saying that you’re in some sort of special class that deserves sympathy and don’t say things need to change just to suit people like you.

Frankly, they’re wrong. These are two very different experiences. I’m going to point out some differences, but want to make clear I’m not trying to play the game of who has it worse or that my pain is bigger than yours.

————————————————————  

I recognize that in our church, women are often spoken of as being valued because they’re mothers. While meant to elevate women, it reduces them to one role. And what of women who are infertile, who don’t feel called to be a mother, or single women who haven’t married? With much of ward life revolving around families and children/teens, does she feel welcome? Does she sit alone at church?

Single women do get shout outs from leaders in General Conference who assure them that no blessing will be denied to them. If they desired to be a wife and a mother, but it didn’t happen in this life, it will happen in the next as long as they remain worthy.Interestingly, single men are chided for not being married. Women are portrayed as passive and men as the actors, which limits women.

Sometimes the Relief Society will organize activities just for this group of women, providing an opportunity to socialize and develop friendships. Stake & Regional Activities for Singles (men & women) are provided as a chance to mingle and possibly attract the attention of someone of the opposite gender. They are free to flirt, to date, and to pray that God will help them find someone to love.

If a straight single person finds someone to date, they’re welcome to come to church together and hold hands and receive many encouraging comments.

There have been single women in the General Relief Society, Young Women and Primary presidencies, and in the stake & ward equivalents. I’m not aware of never-married men serving in church-wide leadership, although they occasionally get opportunities at the stake & ward level.

There are stories shared in church lessons where a single woman or man is spoke of with love and respect, although often it’s with a tone of sympathy. 

————————————————————  

Gay members are likewise promised that if we’re worthy and faithful to the end that we can have the blessings in the next life that we didn’t have in this one. But what is usually meant is they will be fundamentally altered, no longer being queer and then can be provided a spouse and opportunity to create a family.

Gay members of the LDS church are told to not seek companionship and romance. There is no praying that God will help them find someone to love, rather it’s that they might not fall in love.

In a church that’s centered around families, opportunities to serve many be limited as many people might be nervous about their child having a gay teacher, or not want their child exposed to someone who is trans.

If I do have someone I’m fond of and we attend church together, simple displays of affection like hand holding or resting their head on my shoulder would not result in encouraging comments about a budding relationship. Instead, I may be pulled aside and told that if I want to continue to be allowed to attend that I need to curtail any display of affection, even if it’s merely reflecting friendship (I find gays are often more demonstrative in their affections for each other than straight friends).

There are no church-sponsored activities for LGBT members so we may find each other, have an opportunity to socialize, develop friendships and possibly more. In fact, I’m likely to be cautioned against associating with other LGBT individuals.

How many openly gay leaders can you name? There are many men who serve in Churchwide leadership, none of whom are openly gay. Are there any serving in your stake presidency or on the High Council? What about in your ward leadership? In fact, how many openly LGBT members can you even identify in your ward, regardless of whether they hold a leadership position?

People like us don’t appear in the lessons presented in class unless done so as a cautionary tale. Many negative messages, explicit & implicit, are taught about people like us. There’s no mention of the spiritual gifts that are often given to members of the LGBT community.

The great blessings & goals of the church are presented as exclusively for straight people or people contort themselves into straight-resembling relationships. Recently leaders have started saying there is a place for LGBT members in the church, but then don’t define what that means. It feels like the place reserved for us is available as long as we act like the straight people around us, careful to deny any expression of our queerness.

#queerstake

[thechaseaphrodite]

Time Warp

Chapter 02

Hi guys! How are you on the other side of the screen? First of all, I'm so sorry for not being able to upload the chapter last week. I fumbled with this semester's final exams and failed. Second, my sincere thanks to Carly Giuliani, whoknows33, Calzonafan123, ChrisM92, NDenner, brady25, Tifenn: tifustiti, perpetualblyss and @loudwithlaughter for all your reviews. Last but not least, my big thanks to my dear friend and beta reader @tiggermay

Arizona was on a high. After Jackson Prescott’s case she’s been on a string of good results, with no children dying on her hands in the last couple of weeks.

Arizona skated all over the hospital (where the nurses allowed - she had tried to skate at NICU only to be tackled by one of them). She and Kai were dancing every day in her apartment. She was even running in the park!

Her life was practically perfect. All that was missing was Nick arriving in Seattle (he promised that he was just tying up his business there, and… you know, having to walk a trail to the nearest town where he would rent a car to get to the airport).

And Calliope.

So, Arizona was basically floating in a pink cloud when Dr. Dixon asked her to consult on Stacy Pollock.

Arizona sighed before walking over to Bailey (who had been telling anyone and everyone who wanted to listen, -or didn’t -, that Arizona Robbins was Seattle Grace's best acquisition in a long time, and no one should touch a child without her permission…. Her new rule to her residents.), to confirm the diagnosis of cor pulmonale.

As soon as Dr. Dixon left, Bailey grabbed her lab coat. “Aren't you going to scrub in this surgery? You... You’re the peds surgeon!”

Arizona smiled in surprise. "Bailey, this is a cardiac case. You and Dr. Dixon can handle it."

Bailey shook her head. “She's just a child. And I…” she trailed off.

Arizona gently put a hand on her friend's shoulder. “Children are tough. And maybe you’ll open this girl's chest and fix something simple. Or maybe she’ll need a transplant and a backpack with a portable pump that will deliver her medicine at the right times so she can have a childhood. Either way, you’ll give her the rest of her life. And I'm telling you that you’ll want to be there for this moment. Because Stacy? She needs you.”

***

Arizona returned to her office. She had been trying to write an article about Jackson Prescott's treatment, but how could she explain that she knew what to do, before ever touching the boy, well… In a way that wouldn’t guarantee her, a one-way trip to the psyche ward, anyway?

She was turning the pages of his exams when she heard knocking on the door. She didn't usually close her office door during the day, so it was open, and Paul Anderson was there looking anxious.

Arizona widened her eyes for a second before she remembered that Wallace was alive. Then she gave her best and most charming smile and stood up. "Hey! How can I help you?"

Paul took a deep breath and walked into the office, closing the door behind him. "Dr. Robbins, correct?"

Arizona nodded and reached out to greet him. The grip was tight, though Paul's hands were shaking. “I’m Paul Anderson. My son, Wallace, is a patient here. Dr. Kenley was his doctor.”

They sat down, and Arizona quickly closed the folders in front of her. "I think I haven't met Wallace yet."

Paul shook his head. “He… He has short bowel syndrome. He had the last surgery with Kenley a few months ago. His eleventh bowel resection.” Paul took a deep breath, and Arizona noticed Kai rising from the couch to stand beside her. “My wife, Bethany, she attends a support group to parents in this situation. And she heard about Jackson Prescott's recovery. So, I want to transfer Wallace's care to you as well as discuss the best course of treatment.”

Arizona took a deep breath. "Do you have his latest exams?"

Paul nodded eagerly, and opened his briefcase, offering her a binder.

Arizona smiled reassuringly and put her hand over Paul's. “I'm going to study Wallace's case. And the possible alternatives we have. And then we can decide our next step, okay?”

Paul took a deep breath. “He's nine years old… And he's done more than twice as many surgeries than Bethany and I combined. They keep saying that he doesn't have much of a chance of living... But, he's my son, Dr. Robbins. He's my boy.” He said brokenly while staring at Arizona. He lifted a hand to rub at his tired eyes and she couldn’t help but feel her heart twist at the anguish and fatigue that she could see in him. She remembered how emotionally draining, worrying for Sofia had been… And God… Sofia. She missed her baby so much.

Arizona nodded sympathetically. "I... Let's make a plan." She said, clearing her throat.

Paul nodded. They exchanged contacts and soon the man said goodbye and left the office. Arizona closed the door and crouched on the floor covering her face.

"I need to save Wallace, Kai."

The angel took an apple. "Do your best. But remember that some things are immutable.”

Arizona nodded, and when she saw Kai eating her apple, she couldn’t help but roll her eyes at him. "How many of these have you eaten?"

Kai laughed hoarsely. "Four? I like the taste. Theoretically, I don't need to eat.” He smiled sympathetically at Arizona. "I think it's cute that you prepare your snacks like you're doing it to Sofia. If you weren't having lunch at the cafeteria, I bet you'd make your lunches in the same way."

Arizona shrugged. "Force of habit."

Kai nodded. "Want some help thinking of something for the Anderson boy? I can help you remember their exams from the other timeline."

Arizona nodded. "Let's get to work then, Kai"

***

A few hours later, Arizona was preparing a file for the Anderson family. She wanted Wallace to have a bowel transplant. Her thoughts were interrupted by frantic knocking on the door.

"Come in," she called.

Miranda Bailey came into her office out of breath, but with a smile on her face. “You're brilliant!” she stated. “I was in surgery with Stacy and Dixon said she would need a transplant. And, and I had to leave. Because I couldn't handle the idea of this little girl slipping through my fingers and I went to visit my son at the daycare. When I saw the backpacks, and I remembered what you said. So, I ran back, and I told the parents what we could do... I would have come before, but Dr. Dixon... Well, she had a moment. But we can put the portable pump on Stacy, and she can have a childhood!”

Arizona's eyes widened. "Dr. Bailey, you talked to Dr. Dixon before talking to the parents, correct?"

Bailey's smile slowly died. “Well… She was breaking the news to her parents! They needed to know!”

Arizona sighed. “And she's chief surgeon on this case. And she deserves our respect. So, I'll be happy to assist on this surgery, but you need to apologize to her.”

Bailey grunted softly but nodded. "But you’re going to scrub in on the surgery, right?"

Arizona laughed softly and nodded. “Great save, Bailey. I’m proud of you."

Bailey's chest filled with pride and she passed the exams to Arizona as they walked to the OR.

***

Arizona smiled encouragingly at Bailey once the surgeon had started. Kai was watching over Dixon's shoulder, a certain fascination in his angelic expressions.

"I'm sorry for my outburst." Bailey started breaking the uncomfortable silence. "I should've spoken to you first."

Dixon nodded, her focus completely on the procedure. “It was inappropriate, but I've come to expect it from pediatric surgeons. Always breaking protocol.” She sighed and shook her head.

Bailey looked surprised at Dixon. “I'm not a pediatric surgeon. I've landed a few peds cases recently, but I'm getting back to general surgery the first chance I get.”

Arizona tilted her head. Bailey would be a great pediatric surgeon. However, Webber had chosen her to follow his footsteps. And she had already tried to have this fight and lost.

“You touch the child whenever you speak with her.” Dixon continued “You explain conditions to the child, not just the parents. You react to the patient as if it was your own child. You break protocol, which is inappropriate. Except in pediatric surgery, where protocols are constantly evolving. You are not a general surgeon. You're a pediatric surgeon.”

Arizona smiled at Bailey. Dixon was right. Bailey would be excellent at peds.

***

Arizona was heading for the locker room so she could change. Some nurses had invited her for a drink after work and she was happy to accept. When she saw Bailey smiling outside Stacy Pollock's room, she stopped beside her to watch the girl showing her backpack full of ornaments to her parents.

"Oh my God," she exclaimed. "Did you use a bedazzler?"

Bailey lifted the machine, a smile on her face. “Circa 1986. As seen on TV.”

Arizona laughed in surprise. “Dixon’s right, you know. You do belong in peds surgery. Although, I think Ri... The chief. The chief has already chosen you to take his place.”

Bailey shook her head. “My own baby almost died last year. The doctors in this hospital, my friends, all worked to save his life. And I stood outside the room feeling so useless, so powerless and helpless. Like I was losing everything in the world and couldn’t do a single damn thing to stop it. And when he didn’t die, I knew I didn't want to be anywhere near that feeling again, so I think that makes me pretty unsuitable for pediatric surgery.”

Arizona looked away for a minute. She knew the feeling Bailey was narrating. She had felt it on her skin when her baby was born four months too soon after that terrible car accident. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts.

“I'd say that makes you uniquely qualified. And if you have an interest and Richard Webber allows it, I'd love to have a chance to rob you into pediatric surgery.” she said smiling at Bailey before walking away.

***

Arizona was sitting at the bar laughing at what some nurse was saying. She had had her fair share of affairs in Seattle before she time travelled, and now no one understood why she was suddenly celibate.

She was talking to a girl from Pathology when her eyes landed on Calliope. She looked so sad. The weight of the world on her shoulders and still the most beautiful woman she had ever seen.

Arizona saw Little Grey exchange a few words with her before she got up and went to the bathroom.

Kai poked her shoulder. "Go after her, Robbins!" He murmured in her ear.

Arizona smiled and excused herself as she went to the bathroom. Butterflies on her stomach, her hands sweating... God, the effect Calliope had on her, even after all this time...

She opened the bathroom door and couldn’t help but cast an appreciative glance across Calliope's shape, leaning over the sink, touching up her makeup.

“Hey”

"Hey" Calliope answered without turning to her, almost like an automatic answer.

"Ortho, right?"

“Yeah, right. Hi.”

“I'm Arizona Robbins. Peds surgery” (your future wife, mother of your daughter, the love of your life). “I've seen you at the hospital” she took a deep, nervous breath. "Are you ok?"

Callie ruffled her hair, clearly upset. "You know... I'm fine."

And she turned around. And Arizona almost lost her breath at seeing her eyes so closely. She had almost forgotten how expressive and captivating those eyes were. Callie has always been so open... Before all the pain she caused. Pain, she could now, fix.

“Fine. People talk. Where we work. They talk. A lot.” Arizona started anxiously, her speech stilted and awkward, (God what is wrong with her?). "So, for the sake of being honest, I think I should tell you that I know things about you" (because I’m from the future and we were married. Because I asked about you). "Because people talk.”

Callie bowed her head, the smile on her face faded for a second. "Oh... You mean... Terrific." She said muttered tiredly, huffing a sarcastic, breathy laugh.

Callie looked down and Arizona stepped a little closer. “It is, actually. The talk.” Callie leaned against the sink. “People really like you over there. They respect you and they're concerned and interested. They really like you. Some of them really like you.”

Kai shook his head. "Where are you going with this?", he said not expecting an answer.

Arizona took a deep breath. "You just… You look upset. And I thought that you should know that the talk is good. And when you're not upset, when you're over being upset, there will be people lining up for you.”

Calliope laughed and it was one of the most wonderful sounds Arizona had heard. "You want to give me some names?" She asked wryly.

Arizona smiled coyly and approached Callie. She would never understand how Callie could doubt how attractive she was. How magnetic she could be. She leans in and slowed down a bit just an inch before Callie’s lips, not wanting to spook her but also not willing to let a chance by, and when she didn’t move back, leaned in kissed her gently.

Fireworks. Arizona thought. And those lips...

She pulled away slowly. "I think you'll know" She smiled at Callie mischievously before leaving the bathroom.

Kai was laughing alongside her as she paid for hers and Calliope's tabs before leaving the bar to return to her apartment.

“Jesus, that conversation was kind of painful to watch”. Kai said, wincing theatrically “You couldn’t think of anything else to say to her? God! Talking about other people talking, we really need to work on your conversational skills.” Kai sighed dramatically and shaking his head back and forth his wild black curls flopping around, when suddenly he lifted his head to exclaim: “But, hey the kiss! I knew you had it in you!”

Arizona laughed as she threw herself on her bed, her fingers touching her lips gently. She had almost forgotten Calliope's innocent glances. Her charming insecurity. And the lips... Oh those lips! “Reliving this moment is worth any price for coming back here, Kai” she whispered.

Kai's canines flashed in the light for a second before Arizona heard his hoarse laugh fill the apartment.

That night she dreamed of her wedding day.

***

Arizona knew Calliope was following her around the hospital and asking about her, working up the courage to ask her out. And each time she could see a shadow of her getting close, even for a second, she needed to stop and take a deep breath.

Kai seemed to be having fun like never had before, watching this cat and mouse game.

She had just helped the nurses set up a scavenger hunt for the children (they heard about the interns’ scavenger hunt and they wanted to do one too) when Paul and Bethany knocked on her office door.

“Mr. Anderson, Mrs. Anderson! Please come in!” she greeted them excitedly.

Bethany smiled. "Call me Bethany, Doctor Robbins."

"If so, please call me Arizona."

She picked up two folders she had prepared for them, a thing Nicole Herman had taught her for when parents needed to make a medical decision. She took a deep breath before she started. “Wallace's case is quite severe. And I disagree with the treatment made by Dr. Kenley. I think repeating the same surgery more than ten times won’t yield new results. After studying and contacting some colleagues, my official recommendation is that Wallace should’ve a bowel transplant.”

Paul closed his eyes, releasing a heavy breath and Bethany began to cry silently. Arizona gently pushed the folders toward them. “However, no decision needs to be made today. For now, Wallace is stable and maybe he’ll stay in this state. But… In case, we need to interfere… When we discuss transplants, in addition to the risks of surgery, we’re talking about a lifetime of periodic hospital visits and medicines to keep his immune system in check. I have prepared this document for you to help you understand what it might mean in the long run for Wallace and you both. So, you can read, and I’ll be happy to answer your questions. Of course, if you want a second opinion as well, fell free to take it to a second doctor.”

Paul took the folder with shaking hands, tears keeping him from reading. "But would he live?"

Arizona nodded. "I believe this is the best chance for us to extend Wallace's life."

Bethany looked at Arizona for a moment. "Do you have children, Arizona?"

She opened her mouth for a moment almost saying yes, she had. She had a beautiful daughter. But no. She didn't have her daughter. Yet. Arizona smiled. "Not yet."

Bethany nodded. "A transplant means he would have a childhood... A normal life."

“He would need take medicine and need to see a doctor more than usual, yes. But I firmly believe this is Wallace's best chance.”

Before Paul could speak, she smiled. “You don't have to decide anything right now. Take this information home. Read it calmly. Talk to his pediatrician. When you guys make the decision, Wallace will enter a list and then we'll have to wait. There is no rush.”

Paul took a deep breath. "If a transplant is what is needed to see my son grow up, Dr. Robbins, you can put him on that list."

***

Arizona took a deep breath handing the forms to the nurse. Wallace Anderson was officially on the transplant list. Now she just had to wait.

She walked to her office, slowly. She felt the beginnings of a migraine starting to build up just behind her eyes. Arizona closed the door slowly and sat down, resting her head in her hands. She grunted in frustration at Miranda Bailey's application for a fellowship in pediatric surgery. She had noticed the hesitation in Bailey to get away from Richard Webber.

She was exhausted from all these waiting games. It seemed that waiting was all she been doing lately. Wait for Calliope to talk to her. Wait for Sofia to be born. Wait for Richard Webber to stop Bailey from doing the fellowship. Wait for Karev be interested in peds. Wait for Nick’s and April’s arrival. It had all become one big waiting game. And she was shaking with anxiety to begin her life!

***

Arizona massaged her temples while reading Miranda Bailey's application. She needed to talk to Bailey. While it was true that she had a gift for pediatrics and would be a wonderful addition to Arizona’s team she refused to go into battle with Richard Webber, over a resident who still wasn’t all that sure about actually joining. Arizona took a deep breath and skated to the General Surgery Nurse Station. She smiled when she saw Bailey there.

“This is the first step in the beginning of a new life” she stated, pointing to the letters of recommendation in Bailey's hands. “How are we feeling? Positive? Confident?”

Bailey took a deep breath, as if trying to calm down. “I’m good. Great.”

Arizona nodded, crossing her arms. “Peds Surgery is super competitive.” Arizona said, gently trying to poke Bailey. She needed to know if this time the woman was serious about delving into this world. She wouldn’t put her neck on the line for someone unwilling to get on her ship.

Bailey nodded. For the first time in a long time, the great Miranda Bailey found herself wanting to impress an attendant. “That's why I'm armed with letters of recommendation to put the competition to shame. Shepherd says I'm talented and resourceful. Sloan finds it an honor to work with me.”

Before she could continue, Arizona interrupted. “What does the chief think?”

“I'm still working on that.” she promised.

Arizona sighed. “Look, I'm not going to get into a tug war with Richard Webber, Miranda. He's grooming you to take his place, so it's not just his recommendation that matters.”

Bailey looked at her in surprise. “Richard Webber has no decision-making power over my future. You calm down. I've got it under control.”

Arizona smiled. “Good. Because speaking on my behalf, we couldn't be more excited to have you.” Arizona saw Richard coming down the stairs and decided to just skate away. That was a fight she had no interest in getting into.

Bailey almost sighed in relief. She didn't want to go to war with the chief, but that didn't mean Arizona didn't want her as a student.

***

Arizona was analyzing some post-op exams when she felt Calliope approaching. She bit the inside of her cheek trying to stay calm.

Kai appeared beside her. “Here she comes. Try to be smoother than your last conversation.” He said teasingly, winking at Arizona playfully while nudging her shoulder with his.

"Hey," Calliope said, taking a deep breath, resting a hand on the counter.

Arizona turned to her, turning her back to Kai and his theatrics, a big smile on her face. “Calliope. I haven't seen you around!” (Alright, she had seen Calliope watching her through the hospital, but she didn't need to tell her that).

"Well," Callie continued, a big smile on her face. “I've been avoiding you”

Arizona made a false expression of surprise and crossed her arms.

"Is that your best surprise face, woman?!" Kai criticized, but with a fond and exasperated smile on his face. He had never seen Arizona smile so big.

"I know, it's so weird," Callie said, clearly embarrassed by the reddening of her cheeks. “You share a kiss with a woman you've never seen before…”

Arizona's smile faded a little as she saw Callie looking around, as if to make sure no one was listening. Damn, she had forgotten that right now, she was a newbie in the LGBT+ world.

“Honestly, this is a new adventure, one I'm ready to take, for the second time, and… Anyway. Do you want to go on a date with me?”

Arizona tilted her head slightly and smiled. "I would love to."

Callie's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh really?! I mean... This... This is great!”

Arizona giggled softly. She took a piece of paper from her pocket and quickly wrote down her number (old number, current number, Thank God for Kai by her side saying the right one). She steps closer to Callie and puts the paper in her pocket. "I'll wait for your text, Calliope," she murmured, her lips close to Callie's ear before she walked away.

Kai was doing a little dance next to Arizona. “You have a date! You have a date!” He hummed, his bare feet tapping the hospital floor in time with his silly little tune.

Arizona bit her lower lip and couldn’t help but follow Kai’s rhythm. God, she had a date!

***

Callie froze in shock, a huge smile on her face. She honestly thought Arizona would dismiss her. But she had said yes! Her eyes widened. Arizona had said yes. She was expecting a text. She had to plan their date! Callie had never planned a date. God, she had a date!

***

Callie hurried to Bailey's side. Everyone on the surgical staff had heard Bailey sing Arizona’ praises. Bailey was trying to become the woman’s student, for God's sake. She should know Arizona well enough to give some tips, right? Right.

Callie bit her fingernail, waiting for the chief to move away from Bailey. She'd really thought Arizona was going to say something like she wasn't lesbian enough for her, not in a million years did she think she might end up with a date. She tried to approach the other woman casually, leaning over the counter.

"So, Bailey..." she began. "You and Arizona Robbins are kind of friends, right?"

Bailey was way too focused on reading whatever paper she had on her hands to look at Callie. Callie took a deep breath. "Bailey? Bailey, I'm trying to get some help over here."

"The chief..." she started indignantly. "He wrote me a form letter of recommendation." She said showing the paper to Callie.

“What? That's insane. He's the chief, and you're Bailey.” Callie started reading. “Pleasant in the OR and gets along well with the nurses and rest of the staff. She's completed a serviceable amount of research. A fine addition to any program.”

Callie raises her eyebrows in surprise. This couldn’t be a letter about Miranda Bailey, especially not one coming from the chief. The man was practically grooming her to take his place! That’s the best he has to say?!

“Fine! He used the word fine! A blank page would mean more. I pulled off a twelve people domino surgery. I took out and put back six of a dying girl's organs! I'm Dr. Bailey. I'm better than fine!” Bailey marched off furiously.

Callie hurried after her. "Yes, you are! So much that you want to study with Arizona! And I just asked her out and- “

Bailey came to sudden halt and looked at Callie dumbfounded. "Stop. Did you just say that you asked Dr. Robbins out?”

Callie nodded. "And I need help."

Bailey took a deep breath. “You need to not screw it up, because that woman is the best pediatric surgeon I've ever seen. She is almost six weeks without losing a patient. The hospital needs her, and I need her. And now I need to talk to Richard Webber.”

Callie froze in place. Oh, beloved Jesus... What would she do?! She needed Mark. Mark would know what to do.

***

She only found Mark when he came after her… After punching Derek Shepherd. Callie took a deep breath to calm her nerves. Maybe this was not a good time to talk about her love life.

***

Arizona smiled as she saw Callie coming out of the elevator. "Calliope!" She called happily.

Callie turned to her with clearly anxious eyes. "All right! Look, I asked you out, but I don't know how to do that! I kind of just got into this whole girl story… Women. And maybe I'm inexperienced in that. But I am experienced in other things. I mean... I'm a senior resident. I'm a great surgeon. I'm a divorcee., I was in the Peace Corps. Botswana. It was what convinced me to go to med school. And, mostly recently, I've experienced the joy of cooking. And, and maybe now you are thinking you should’ve said no but-” she didn’t seem to be getting anywhere near a pause… Or a breath for that matter.

Arizona bit her lower lip. God, she had almost forgotten how Calliope could get lost into her own head and come to all these conclusions before anything even happened. It was so... Cute. Annoying when it was about decisions in their relationship… But cute. "Calliope?" She interrupted tentatively.

Callie paused for breath, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Kai was laughing. "That explains a lot."

Arizona smiled. “Do you want to go out to dinner with me Friday? I'd love to talk more about your experiences.”

Callie smiled with relief. “Yeah. That would be great."

Arizona smiled. "Well, you have my number."

Arizona’s pager started ringing. She pouted. "Damn it. I'd love to hear more, but I need to go.” She approached Callie, her lips almost touching her earlobe. "Bye, Calliope," she muttered breathily before running back to the NICU.

Kai's laugh rang in her ears, but a huge smile was on her face all night long.

#greys anatomy #arizona robbins #callie torres #fanfic: callie/arizona #Timewarp

[slaveofimagination]

Stanley Uris Takes a Flight (STOZIER)

Rating: K+

Summary:

“Stanley… Uris… Urine…”, a third voice reached his ears “Stanley Urine. No, he won’t show up. The guy is a pussy”.

Gulping and embarrassed with the looks the woman was giving him, he forced himself a few steps, standing in front of a table with nearly empty bowls of food and beer bottles. Six pair of eyes on him. And as much as time had passed, he could tell who they were.

Mike Hanlon smiled so wide and bright that Stanley felt the calmness pumping through his veins. He eyed every single one of them and fought with the tears that would came once again.

Landing his eyes on a bespectacled man with a hideous shirt, he bit the inside of his cheek, finally finding the voice he lost the day before after Mike’s call.

“Beep beep, Richie”.

Status: In-Progress (2/4)

______________________

Chapter Two: Stanley Uris finds his token

They begged Mike to stay, and he did.

Gathered in Bill’s room (it had to be Bill’s room), they all sat together, still dazed by what they saw at the restaurant. Occasionally, they would hear steps on the hallway from the other hotel guests, and all of them would look at the door, almost expecting to see something else. While Mike lectured them about his years alone in Derry, Stanley scrolled down Patricia’s messages, feeling empty of energy to answer back to her.

 It was when Eddie left to the bathroom, looking very upset and trying his best to not scream at his phone (“it’s goddamn Myra, hold on”) earning a stupid pussy joke by Richie, that the atmosphere became a little lighter.

“It’s weird to imagine Eddie going through sexual intercourse”.

“Why on earth are you thinking about it, Rich?” Bev rolled her eyes and tried to smile, but Stan could see how tired she was.

“His wife looks like his mom,” he pointed out, and Ben chuckled “You saw her picture and how little he is, it’s weird”.

“You thinking about Eddie’s sex life is stranger,” she pointed out, leaning against the bed frame “But I need to say it would be weird to imagine you being married instead”.

“Are you not?”, Stan turned to him, voice low and head dizzy. The headache was nearly there.

“Of course I’m not,” Richie grimaced, laughing a little “Not in the mood to chain myself into someone for the whole eternity. I’m a free bird,” he winked to Bev, fixing his glasses “But are you?”.

“What?”.

“Married, Staniel”.

“Yes”.

“I knew it. The perfect American boy, with his perfect american wife living in their cozy house with white fences eating their kosher food”.

“Patricia hates houses, we live in an apartment,” he pointed, detached.

“How’s Patricia?” Bill asked him, seconds before Richie opened his mouth. Beverly was looking at him, intently.

“Hm, she’s alright”.

“I hope she’s smaller than Eddie’s girl”.

“Beep Beep, Richie”.

“For how long have you guys been married?”, Beverly asked him with a tender smile and Stan looked right into her eyes. Some bits of his childhood memories came back to him as he remembered how Bev’s wrists were occasionally black and purple, like right now, and as much as they all knew what was happening, she always had a gentle attitude towards them, laid back and ready to listen to their shit or just talk to them. Like what she was doing right now with him, like she knew how fucking scared he was.

“Eight years,” his fingers ran absentmindedly on his pants “We met at uni, we shared a class”.

“Which one?”

“Statistics,” he glanced at Ben and he was smiling “Everyone else was terrible with numbers, so I decided to do my stuff with her…”.

“All your stuff, right, Staniel?” Richie winked at him.

“Shut up, Richie,” he elbowed Richie’s arm, rolling his eyes. Bill and Ben laughed at them.

“I was pointing out facts”.

“Like the fact that you don’t have a partner and have to jerk off alone?”, Stanley mumbled, annoyed, and it felt so familiar “Be careful with your joints, old man”.

“Who said i’m jerking off al-”

“Beep fucking beep, Richie,” Beverly threw a pillow at him and Stan caught himself almost smiling “Do you guys have any kids…?”

“Hm,” he frowned, slightly uncomfortable. His marriage to Patricia rarely ended up in any fights, but the closest they got to arguing and hurting each other’s feelings were during the moments in which she mentioned having kids. Not that Stanley was exactly opposing the possibility of being a father, but he was calmer with no kids around. Not just because they would make a mess of their house and routine, he wasn’t that petty… The fact was that he felt safe having no kids. For years he quite didn’t understand the root of that foreign feeling, but being back in Derry was making things more clear “No… No yet,” he swallowed “We tried a couple of years ago, but… you know… And we didn’t do anything recently to try again”.

“Like no sex? Celibate?”.

Stanley glared at Richie, who raised his hands and smiled.

“What? How many kids do you have spread across the country?”.

“For who do you take me for, Staniel? An irresponsible womanizer?”

“I don’t have any kids either,” Bill interrupted their bickering. Stan noticed the wrinkles around his eyes while Bill was staring at some random spot on the floor “I can’t have them”.

“Me neither”.

Stanley looked from Bill to Beverly, frowning.

“Does Eddie…”.

“No”.

“Hm,” he glanced at the shining wooden floor, at Ben’s brown boots near his leather shoes. It was all quiet, except for Eddie’s mumbles in the bathroom. He sounded nervous, even angry, “It’s him, right?”.

“We don’t know,” Mike had his eyes on him “But it makes sense”.

“I’m relieved, if you guys want the truth,” Richie was playing with his own fingers, avoiding their gazes. His brow was furrowed and he looked mildly angry “If it’s him. I’m glad to not have my own children if he’s around. I think we’re already fucked enough to lose one of our kids to this bitch…”.

“Right….”.

Stanley searched for Bill’s eyes and thought he was glad too. Neither of them had any siblings and only Bill knew what it was like losing Georgie. The thought of Bill having to face a similar thing, but with his own kid was enough to set Stan’s nerves on fire. He saw the way Ben was looking at Bill and there it was too. They would fight for Bill, they would fight Pennywise once again for Bill. The six of them would give their very lives for Bill. It was in Ben’s eyes. In Richie’s too. In his own, in every one of them.

The bathroom door opened and Eddie was red, his lips pursued in a thin line. He glanced at them, not saying a word. Stan noticed how he looked at Bill, who was staring at his own hands, lost in thought, unaware of how his childhood friends were looking at him. Eddie’s eyes even scanned Stanley briefly, like he was sensing his eyes on him, and then looked at Bill again.

They were back, they were most definitely back.

It would start all over again.

------

The next morning, he left the room before the others. They had all slept there, sharing Bill’s bed and the wooden cold floor. They hadn’t minded it. Stanley couldn’t remember when he’d drifted to sleep. It had felt like one of those moments as a kid when you sleep away from your bed and wake up on your mattress like it was magic.

When he’d opened his eyes, the sky still a little dark outside, he’d wondered why he wasn’t on his bedroom near Patricia.

They were all sleeping and Richie was snoring. He sat on the floor, taking a look at Eddie’s curled up figure next to him. Ben and Richie were sound asleep near the bathroom door, while Bill was slumped over an armchair, neck resting in a weird position. Beverly and Mike were sharing the bed. He squinted his eyes, the only source of lightning being the orange glow from a lamppost at the street. He tried to see if they were all breathing.

Stan hesitated before standing up, trying to dodge from Eddie’s body. Closing the buttons of his cardigan, he stepped outside the room. The sensation of fear over an imminent undesired surprise left him feeling nauseated. Still, he walked through the corridor, noticing that some of the hotel guests were already awake. At the end of the corridor, a huge window allowed him to see a few cars already going through Kansas street, and the back of the public library.

He sat on the floor, near the window. There was a sparrow in the three almost in front of him. Stan smiled weakly at him. He wondered if Patricia was already awake and if he should call her, as he didn’t trust his voice enough. What would he say? That Mike had cancer? Or maybe a silly lu?

Hugging his knees, Stanley thought of how he had felt after Mike’s call. About what he had thought to do.

He shivered.

------

His nose was dripping snot and his sleeves were dirty.

Stanley felt stupid, scared and so dirty. His slacks were scrapped right above his knees and all about him screamed disorder. He was walking around the town in which he was born, covered in dirt, crying like a child. A messy child wiping his nose with his sleeves. Stanley Uris being disgusting. He felt an urge to run away, back to Atlanta. Patricia had the habit of folding his handkerchiefs.

When he stepped inside the small motel, Beverly and Ben were sat on the staircase, mumbling inaudible things to each other. When they noticed his presence they stood straight and Ben frowned at him when he saw Stan’s face. He immediately held back his tears, glancing away.

“Stanley?”

Stan just moved his head to the sides. Please, don’t.

“Darling, what happened?”, Beverly tried to approach him, but he stepped back, shaking hands hidden inside his pockets.

“Stan,” Ben touched his shoulder and Stan flinched “What happened?” he asked with the familiar and gentle tone Ben always had. Stan could sense how uneasy Beverly was and that alone was enough to set up his own anxiety. But Ben was patient, gesturing almost imperceptible to Beverly to just wait. Ben was soothing “Have you seen something?” his voice was careful and calm “If you had, don’t worry now. You’re here with us, right?” Ben glanced at Beverly again “I saw something too, Bev as well… I know you’re scared, we were, we are scared too… But he couldn’t reach us, he couldn’t reach you… he can’t reach you”.

“Ben…”.

“I know it seems real, Stan…”.

“It is, Ben. It is real…”.

“It may be. But here, right now, is real too. And you’re here with us. And if he comes for you in here, he’ll come for us too. You’re not alone, Stanley”.

“Dear, have you found your token?” Beverly tried to hide her anxiety, Stan could sense it. For a second he was mad at her, the shower cap feeling heavy on his pocket. But Ben’s hand squeezed his shoulder gently and Stan felt shame.

“Yes, I did…”.

“Good…” she smiled and he tried to do the same, but his facial muscles were tense “We’re waiting for Bill and Rich-”.

Richie wasn’t walking, he was marching, nearly running through the small hall. His facial expression was contorted into one of utter pain. He walked past the three of them, his heavy boots making loud noises as he climbed the wooden staircase.

“Richie?” Stanley mumbled, but he knew Richie couldn’t hear him. Instead, he heard when Ben called him, voice much more steady and firm.

“I’m leaving”.

Stanley looked from Richie’s back to Beverly muttering a shocked ‘what?’. Ben’s warm touch on his shoulder ceased as he stepped toward the stairs, looking at Beverly and Stan with a reassuringly look.

“I’ll talk to him”.

They didn’t have time to say anything and Ben was already climbing the stairs, two steps at a time. Both of them kept looking at the direction in which Ben disappeared, and Stan felt Beverly moving towards him, shyly. Raising her hand, she touched his curls and moved some strands of hair away from his eyes. Stan couldn’t help but notice the purple bruise on her wrist. If she noticed him looking she didn’t shy away. Stan felt his cheeks getting warm.

“What’s yours?,” she asked in barely a whisper and he frowned “The token”.

He bit the inside of his cheek. For some unknown reason, it sounded like she was asking him for a piece of very intimate information, one that would leave him highly uncomfortable. He fumbled with the thoughts that he didn’t know who that woman was, he barely got to meet her. Her piercing blue eyes were familiar, the shining fiery hair as well… She had facial traits that reminded him of someone, but she wasn’t the same person. He wasn’t acquainted with this woman dressed in good tailored clothes with expensive earrings.

His Beverly Marsh had a chain with her house’s key around her neck. And she dressed like one of them. He laughed to himself and she frowned. He felt like crying again. That thing kept them apart for nearly three decades. Not only physically apart, but mentally as well. He gritted his teeth before touching the shower cap inside his pockets, taking it off and handing to her.

Beverly touched it with such care that Stan almost laughed, almost telling her that it wouldn’t disintegrate just because of her light touch. Her fingers were so lanky and bony. When she smiled at him the tears blurred his vision.

“Stan the man…” she mumbled, eyes equally watery “Thanks for taking care of us…”.

He hugged her like he never did as a kid. She didn’t seem to mind his dirty clothes.

Eddie Kaspbrak almost sprinted into the place and while looking at him Stan thought that he himself was pretty clean compared to Eddie. With a harsh hand move, Eddie signalled that he didn’t want to speak, that he would murder them if they tried to stop him on his tracks. He caught Ben during half the way through the second floor and Ben exchanged a glance with Stan and Beverly, sharing their thoughts that try to talk with an angry and dirty Eddie Kaspbrak wasn’t the smartest idea.

“Richie?” Beverly mumbled as Ben approached them “What happened to him?”.

“He’s just scared… I convinced him to stay”.

“Good…,” she turned to Stan, a motherly look in her eyes “Why don’t you go upstairs and change your clothes, dear? Maybe take a shower? You’ll feel better…”.

Stan felt himself blushing from his ears to his toes. He didn’t have a suitcase and he was probably stinking. He felt too embarrassed to tell that to them, mostly to ask Ben if he had spare clothes. Ben was taller and his pants wouldn’t fit well, but he needed to change. He thought about Richie, who was also taller but was Richie and nodded, heading to the second floor.

He held tight on the handrail, hyper-aware of any movement or sound. From a few doors to his left side it was possible to hear Eddie screaming (apparently to himself) and Stan briefly considered checking on him. He walked past Eddie’s door, turning right in a corridor and reaching Richie’s. He knocked it lightly, but Richie didn’t answer. Stan knocked more two times, now a little harder. Frowning, he touched the door handle, ready to apologize for doing something so impolite. When he looked into the room there was no Richie.

The idea of being inside a room alone wasn’t pleasing and Stan considered going back to Bev and Ben, telling them that he had no clothes, blushing as Ben would probably offer one of his own. A ruffling of the curtains left his blood cold. He was about to run away when Richie’s tall and clumsy figure stepped into his eyesight.

“Rich?”.

“What the fuck?”, Richie almost knocked out his own glasses, jumping in surprise “What the fuck are you doing in my room, Stanl- wait, what’s wrong?” he took on his shaggy appearance and Stan avoided his gaze “Are you okay?”.

“How could I?” he sneered, fingers brushing the door handle “We’re in Derry”.

“Yeah. That’s why we should go”.

“What do you mean?”.

“The obvious,” Richie rolled his eyes “I’m leaving,” he pointed out the small balcony behind thick curtains “Bag is down there. Tried to make a rope with the bedsheets, but I guess I’m too heavy. At least my things are already out, so I can run past those two morons down there without them bothering me”, he explained, agitated “C’mon, go grab yours.  I’ll call Eddie. Can you hear him from here? Maybe he’s light enough to actually use the rope. You can either go in my car or his”, he took a long glance at Stan and smiled mockingly “Maybe mine. Eddie would never allow you inside of his car when you’re looking this gross”.

Stan kept staring at him, not moving an inch. His brains were slow and he was frowning at Richie.

“What? Do you need a formal invitation, Staniel?”.

“What do you mean?”.

“Is this the only thing you can say now?,” Richie ran his hands through his greasy locks “We don’t have much time. Do you really think we’re able to fool Bill? We need to get the hell out of here before he arrives. We can say we need to get some air, Ben and Bev would never guess we’re actually leaving. Go grab your suitcase, I’ll talk to Eddie”.

“Why?”.

“Why what, Stanley?” Richie was clearly upset “Do you want to talk to Eddie instead? I’ll gladly pick your things while you face the tiny monster, it’s up to you to choose”.

“I don’t have any”.

“Any what?”.

“Stuff”.

“Excuse me?”.

“A suitcase,” he looked at Richie and he felt so stupid… Like a child talking to a demanding and judgemental parent “Clothes. I don’t have clothes. Or a towel…”.

Richie’s brows were knitted together while he stared down at Stanley. He kept silent for a moment, opening his mouth a few times before closing it. Clearing his throat, he tried again.

“Were you robbed?”.

“No”.

“So you just came here all your way from Atlanta without a spare pair of socks? With nothing?”.

“Yes… These are my working clothes,” Stan gestured to himself “Or were. The pants are pretty ruined”.

Richie uneasiness seemed to grow and his eyes were wide.

“Why did you do that? What the fuck, Stanley?”.

“I didn’t want to come…” his eyes were on Richie’s and he felt so tired “I, uh, I went to work. And then I ran away and took a plane,” he shrugged “And I’m here”.

Richie waited for him to say something else, but as he didn’t, he took off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. He sighed deeply,  thinking. He finally looked back at Stan, scratching his stubble.

“Shit, man,” his voice was barely a whisper “Shit, Stanley. You could’ve told me that before, now my things are down there and you need a shirt and pants. You’re too short to wear my pants, but still…” the flow of his words was fast and Stan kept rooted in his place “You didn’t bring a suitcase… You. All of all people… This is such a Richie thing to do, yet you did it. This is so fucked up!”.

“Yeah, guess it is”.

“Maybe… Maybe Eds has something that fits you, I mean, you’re not that short… You can wear one of his pants. Are your knees cut?”.

“No,” Stan glanced at the torn fabric on his pants, from the middle of his thigh to his knees “It’s fine…. Well, I didn’t take a look…”.

“Eddie probably has a first aid kit too”.

“Yeah, probably”.

“C’mon, let’s go talk to him, I’ll explain everything and how you’re a sloppy bitch. We don’t have much time”.

“We can’t leave,” and he moved, blocking Richie’s way with his own body, despite being a few inches shorter “We can’t leave them, Richie”.

“Look at you,” and he placed his large hands on Stan’s shoulders, looking straight into his eyes. Stan thought that Richie looked really old “You’re shaking, Stanley,” and he was “You’re scared shit. I’m scared shit. And I don’t want to go look for that fucking clown again”.

“Me neither,” he tried to steady his voice, not missing the way Richie’s hands lightly squeezed his shoulders “But we have too. That thing killed Georgie, remember?”.

“I know pretty damn well what he did, Stanley. But we can’t bring Georgie back”.

“But we can st-...”.

“Stop him from hurting more children?” Richie cut him half sentence and his voice had a mocking tone that made Stan shiver with a bit of anger “Who the fuck are you impersonating now? Bill?”.

“We made an oath”.

“An oath you were ready to break, right?” Richie stepped back, taking his hands away from Stanley “You didn’t want to come”.

“I didn’t”.

“And you came in the last minute”.

“I’m here nonetheless”.

Richie sneered, crossing his arms on his chest. He kept looking at Stanley for an uncomfortable amount of time, tilting his head.

“What kind of character are you trying to portray to me?”.

“What?” Stan frowned, hating the tone on Richie’s voice.

“You’re not a brave person, Stanley,” he mumbled and Stan flinched “You were the first one to run away when we got to Neibolt that time when Eddie and Ben got hurt, remember? You could’ve gone to the Olympics with those cycling skills. You didn’t even check if Eddie was okay, if Ben was okay,” Richie’s voice was harsh and Stan avoided his gaze “You were the only one who had to be convinced to enter that fucking place a second time…”.

“I was also the only one of us he almost killed…,” he replied back before Richie even finished his sentence, hating how his throat felt dry, voice barely a mumble.

“Yeah, I know that. You had better luck than Georgie,” and with that Stan’s eyes snapped back to Richie, wide and utterly shocked. Richie’s own eyes were dark “I’m a grown man, Stanley. You as well. Why do we have to risk our lives to be part of Bill’s revenge?”.

Stan was speechless. When he was a kid he himself thought the same as Richie said right now. He was scared and sad at Bill, it was Bill’s fault...But then the memory of Georgie… He couldn’t help but think that while he was bird watching or playing around… Georgie was dead. At night, while he was sleeping under his comfy bed sheets Geogie’s flesh was rotting under Derry.

And there was Judith… And the marks he still had on his face. Stanley Uris wasn’t a brave man at all. But Richie was. The thought on itself was infuriating. He was the weak link on the chain, not Richie. He couldn’t be part of the chain without him there.

“You want to leave…,” Stan mumbled, looking into Richie’s eyes, feeling the tears streaming down his dirty cheeks. He saw how Richie’s face expression changed, from disgust to concern. When Richie tried to step near him, Stan stepped back “Funny, uh? Who’s the pussy now, Richie?”.

The look of pain and shame that crossed Richie’s face was enough to make Stan clench his fists.

“Hey,” Richie licked his lips, a little pale “Listen to me”.

“Don’t you fucking dare”.

“I know what you heard,” he tried again to get closer and this time Stan didn’t move “And I’m sorry for that”.

“If you don’t shut up I’ll punch you,” Stan gritted his teeth, his vision getting blurry. He never touched anyone in a violent way, but he was more than ready to beat the fuck out of Richie. He was shaking again, but due to anger.

“Stan…”.

“I swear to God, I’ll break your fucking nose, you asshole!” and the tears were dripping from his chin.

“Why…”.

“Here,” he harshly grabbed Richie’s hand, placing it at the left side of his face “Can you feel this shit?” Stanley was mildly scared with how his voice sounded so strained, but he couldn’t stop “Can you? I couldn’t for the past twenty-seven years, and now I’m here almost yelling to you and my face hurts, Richard!”

“Stanley, listen…”.

“No, you listen,” he breathed heavily, scanning Richie’s face, his calloused fingers still touching Stan’s scars “Don’t let this city ruin who you are. Don’t act like Mrs Kaspbrak or Bev’s dad. Do you remember what this town did to the adults when we were younger?” Richie was silent, listening to him intently “Whatever he showed you… He’ll do it again,” he watched as Richie’s eyes left his own “Like he’ll do it again with me. So, please, Richie, please… I don’t want to go through all of this all alone”.

Richie stepped back, turning away from Stan. He could see Richie’s tense shoulders under the black jacket he was wearing. He watched as Richie brought both of his hands to his hair, almost pulling at it. Stan felt like shit.

“Do you want to know what he showed me?” Richie barely mumbled, turning to face Stan with pain in his face “Do you?”.

Beverly’s high pitched scream left both of them paralyzed.

 _________________________

Thank you so much @sparklingspice for proofreading <3

Uploading stories on Tumblr is SO WEIRD. Not in the mood to write the gigantic notes I’m used with on AO3...

External links to this work: AO3 | FF.net

Tumblr Archive [click here] (this page is where I’ll add the links for the other posts with the remaining chapters)

#Stozier #Stozier fanfiction #Stozier Fix-IT #Stanley Uris is alive

[relatablemormonmoments]

Saturday Morning and Afternoon Session Talks

(Note, I listen to Conference rather than watch it, names are probably butchered.)

Ulysses S. Suarez

We need the help of a faithful and inspired teacher, but we also need to teach

Teach your sons and their sons in the ways of the Lord

We need to raise our families in the Lord

Emerse yourself in Scriptures

How do we put principles in the gospel into the actions of our lives?

Actions speak louder than words

Most of our critical spiritual decisions relate to family. (story of a single divorced mother rearing her children)

Mother should guide her children

God wants us back in his presence

Pros: Encourages closeness within our families and with the lord, Encourages us to consider our actions of faith

Cons: The Family A Proclamation to the World, Seemingly excludes those with a poor connection to their families or who converted without their families or whose families have fallen away

Becky Craven

"Happiness, $15" -> cheap trinkets and souvenirs

We as a church are blessed to know how to find true happiness

Car stuck on train tracks-> conductor pulls on emergency break + whistle -> people are able to escape but car is destroyed -> woman watching claims that conductor didn't even try to stop, didn't try to swerve out of the way.

Keep our wheels on the track no matter what obstacles are in our path

Casualness can lead us from the path

World is laiden with distractions, decieving even the elect

We may drown if we aren't careful.

Actions in the "grey" (the "howevers, buts, and althoughs") = "That council does not apply to me"

"If ye love me, keep my commandments"

Doesn't mean being formal or stuffy, but being appropiate

Be more engaged & careful & modest

For the Strength of the Youth applies to each of us (no matter our age, position, or gender)

We need to seek the guidance of the holy ghost

How can we mark ourselves in the Image of Christ?

The world calls us a "peculiar people" which is a large compliment.

We need to widen the distance between ourselves and our worldly influence

Gift of repentance

When you are worthy to recieve personal revelation, you will be blessed and happy

Pros: Gospel is guide to happiness, Doesn't claim that the only way to happiness is through temple marriage, Discusses what leads us from true happiness

Cons: The analogy to a train is nice but doesn't make sense with the rest of her story and implies that there is only one path to happiness, insinuates that temple marriage is part of the path to true happiness, doesn't offer any solutions to avoiding distraction.

Brook P. Hales

God blesses us according to our desires and to his infite wisdom

Scriptures teach us

Lord carefully leads us even if we can't see the results

Lord prepares ways to overcome obstacles before they can occur (Lost Plates and Nephi)

How can God answer us? ->1. Son recieved coat too small, gave it away to another missionary who had been praying for one because he could not afford it (through other people) 2. Joseph (and his coat od many colors) 's brothers sold him rather than killing him, leading to blessings for Egypt and eventual redemption of their family (through.. better circumstances?) 3. Son not hired for dream job, but would have missed a life changing opportunity had he been hired. (Through denying us our wants for eternal perspective)

Patricia Parkinson -> Began going blind at 7 years old, had to go away to boarding school (very home sick) -> Went fully blind at 15, returned home and went to regular highschool-> Eventually gained success at university and in life -> Had a procedure, but came out saying "I'm going to be blind for the rest of my life, I know it, you know it, God knows it." -> Nephew tells her to ask Heavenly Father because Heavenly father grants all of our wishes -> She explains that HF doesn't give us everything when we want it. -> Hales remarks that she's always positive and happy in public but struggles with herself, her disability, and God in private -> she sees that God's hand is in everything

If we keep our commandments, we are blessed by God, even if its not how we expect or want to be blessed.

Pros: Nice approach on how we can struggle with our faith when God doesn't answer us how we want, Good examples of how God does answer us and why he may answer us like that

Cons: Some Ableism in his story about Patricia, simply claims that God will bless us for following commandments

UCHTDORF!!!!!!

Airplanes take 3 hours between Rome and Jerusalem in the present (would take 40 days to travel that distance in Jesus' time)

Even though the church faces persecution, we continue to grow

Put growth into perspective ( A very small flock indeed)

GERMAN SHEPHERD

In some places, the church is shrinking

We must share the good news of the gospel!

How can we fill that great commision in our daily lives?

Share the gospel with friends and acquaintances

Some go out and declare it boldly, others are more hesitant and hide behind the pew when daily missionary work is mentioned, why?

Lord doesn't require expert efforts, but he does require a willing heart and mind

We can draw close to Heavenly Father, Fill our Hearts wirh love for others, and read our scriptures

By doing this we will become better, happier, more authentic

Pros: It's Uchtdorf, Airplanes mentioned, Even small efforts matter

Cons: Airplanes mentioned only once, Encourages a lot of proselytizing in day to day life, Many members are leaving church or going inactive, Really short talk :(

W. Christopher Weidell

His (nonmember) brother (Mike) had Pancreatic cancer, could see the temple from his hospital bed.

Mike became friends with the priesthood leaders, kept askin hc about the church

Mike joined the church and gained strength

Had no pulse when on day gaining Melchezidek priesthood, has pulse as soon as Weidell enters room, he lives to gain the priesthood, but dies 5 hours later.

It takes remarkable efforts to minister

Don't give up on a "Not Interested"-hearts change

Desire tonhelp others achieve deeper conversion

Serving others

Want others to reach divine potential

Sensitive to trials and struggles

We are encouraged to follow the guidings of the Holy Spirit

Trust the Lord

Focus on what's important

It's never too late, you'll never wander too far from the path

Never too soon to extend an invitation

There is always hope

Pros: Heartwarming story about brother, hope if you are inactive and want to come back, hope if yiy have friends or family who have left the church for various reasons

Cons: Influences those really aggressive ministerers to keep going at it, which can weaken someones already weak bond with the church, ITS REALLY SAD, I CRIED OK?

Henry B. Eyring

United as one is the feeling we want in our homes

Families

No contention due to love for God (4th Nephi)

Symptoms of Spiritual Decline TM - How can we protect and increase feelings of love to combat them

Underlying cause=Satan

Reverse spiritual decline in family and in home

Remember the savior as you remember thine sins

Praying as a family brings you closer together

Family who prays together is together, even when far apart

Offer the gospel to your enemies

Examples of Parents

Worry about Celestial Kingdom and the Family Arrangements will be more wonderful than you can imagine

Pros: Talks about strengthening family bonds, NOT ABOUT THE PROCLAMATION TO THE WORLD!!!, strengthen love for God=strengthen family, FOUND FAMILIES? NON NUCLEAR/TRADITIONAL FAMILIES? ?!?!, All you need is love, Love is all you need

Cons: May encourage abusive/extremist parents to shove gospel down childrens throats to "strengthen family" therefore pushing children away

M. Russel Ballard

Can't control what impacts our life, we can control how it impacts our happiness

Do the best we can each day

Heavenly Father loves you

Love God, Love Neighbors

Find peace and happiness in your life

We minister because we love others

Preform Temple ordinances

Keep it simple

Pros: Don't worry be happy, If you follow the commandments you will find happiness, Keep it simple (KonMarie LDS edition)

Cons: The whole we can control how it impacts our happiness doesn't include neurodivergent people, especially those with depression.

Mathias Held

Found a church (ours) where he felt at home

Personal growth, education, humanitarian efforts, self-reliance

Wanted to know everything about the church before joining

Mosiah 1:18

Confident that Heavenly Father would guide him

Through the power of the Holy Ghost we may know all things

Pros: Short and sweet, lists what attracts people to the church

Cons: May make some people in process of conversion feel left out or like they aren't on track/moving fast enough

Neil Anderson

God has given us a way to learn essential truths

See truths of God through the Eye of Faith

Spirit sons and daughters (AND CHILDREN, ELDER ANDERSON! AND CHILDREN!) lived with and worshipped god

We all knew God's plan for us

Prophets see ahead, not only the dangers, but the privileges and blessings

Faith, patience, and diligence

We are all part of a larger family

God will shine his approval on you

Pros: Its about the Plan of Salvation, Eye of Faith, We are all part of a larger family and should strive to help each other, I like the notion that the prophets are also seeing Good things because the world has been very much the bad place as of late..

Cons: I'm pretty sure this is the one where he mentions his LGBTQIA friend who was all like "we need to abandon the ways of the world and thus I be celibate" so... Slight homophobia maybe? I don't know I didn't write it down but a lot of people are bothered by this

Takashi Wada

Overcome darts of the Adversart

True feasting is an experience of joy and thanksgiving

Feasting on scriptures should build our relationship with God

Hearts filled with Gratitude

1. words of Christ increase spiritual capacity for revelation

2. when we struggle with our identity and self esteem, turn to the scriptures

3. live lives of others through the scriptures

A little boy handed Wada's mother a hymn book even though she coukd have easily accessed it herself, an innocent act of kindness he learned through the church and his parents

Hearts burn within us when we read the scriptures

Ye shall have eternity

Pro: This man??? so Sweet??? Hi I love him?, Very innocent stories, very funny.

Con: There is none. Perfect talk.

David P. Homer

"I'm sorry I didn't bear my testimony today, I love you"

1. Critical moments, multiple voices with competing directions, 2. Vital that we listen to the right one

We often focus on what's convenient

Popular =/= best

Mountain climbers' death zone= Spiritual too much time in bad places

Korihor

Impressions given by the Holy Ghost

Seek God's voice

Be doers of the word, not just hearers

Answers can be slow to come

Heavenly Father makes it possible to hear and follow his commandments.

Pro: His opening quote is really cute, Wow this is a call out talk

Con: You may feel called out if you don't follow commandments

Jeffery R. Holland

Adam and Eve closed door to immortality

Help comes from the Lamp of God

Offer broken heart and contrite spirit

Reduce clamor in our buildings

Be mindful of broken hearts and sad spirits around us

No shortage of suffering in the world

Lift load from those who are burdened

Bring tears to the Lord's Sacrificial Altar

Pros: calls people to acknowledge those who are hurt around us, calls people to stop using church for socialization

Cons: What is a Lamp of God?, How can we focus on broken hearts and contrite spirits without hurting them?

#book of mormon #mormon #queerstake #lds #ldsteen #tumblrstake #gencon #general conference #lds conference #mormon conference #latter day saints conference #latter day saints #the church of jesus christ of latter day saints

[phoukanamedpookie]

Real talk

The reason why I don’t seek to join a more traditionally observant Jewish community is because I feel like I’d have to amputate vital parts of myself to fit in, and it’s cruel to expect anyone to do that.

In very few of the first-hand accounts did I find lesbians in the Orthodox community thriving. In most cases, they either stayed and were unhappy because they couldn’t openly express the full truth of themselves (So many were anonymous or used pseudonyms). Or they left and were unhappy because they lost the deep connection to their community.

In my personal situation, it feels unjust and un-Jewish to remain single and celibate for the rest of my life while everyone else gets to seek a partner they are compatible with, and it feels morally wrong to marry a man for the sake of appearances while seeing a lover on the side.

Sure, there are open-minded rabbis who would help me find a way to make it work, but I can’t rely on that. I don’t live in the same city or even the same part of the country they do, and the financial burden of uprooting myself and moving is too great.

And that’s just the lesbian part. 

I’ve also seen, heard and experienced hostile words and actions toward Black people coming from authority figures in the Orthodox community, such that I would never feel comfortable going to an Orthodox environment by myself without someone who could vouch for me coming with me.

I can be discreet about being a lesbian. It’s second nature because someone murders a Black lesbian every few months or so, and it winds up on the news.

I can’t hide my Blackness. I will never forget the time a rabbi at an Orthodox shul asked me to carry his keys for him on Shabbat, and it never even crossed his mind that I could be Jewish or that it would be inappropriate for him to ask that of me, especially when there was a white-ish guy friend with me dressed in street clothes just like me, and this rabbi definitely didn’t even think to ask him to do it.

Not saying that entire communities are responsible for the bad behavior of a few, but people in positions of authority and influence doing these things are a huge red flag. I would have to spend most of my time fighting an uphill battle to batter open closed minds. I’d be too tired to even function before I even consider spiritual nourishment and forging deeper bonds within the community.

And who has time for that? It’s a better use of time and energy to seek out people who already accept me as I am and do what I can to draw them toward a spiritually deeper place.

So it can be hurtful to have people who don’t know about or acknowledge this try to tell me and others like me that I'm an outsider and have no right to even participate in a discussion about the acceptance of LGBT Jews in the Orthodox community when I was forced outside of it to begin with.

Edit: Yes, reblogging is OK, but I’m not here to argue whether my feelings are valid (and doing so is just going to result in getting blocked), or if a particular community or a particular rabbi is to “blame” for some of the experiences I’ve had. What I need you to do is make sure that if I ever visited your shul, I’d never have to deal with this.

#about eshu #no gentiles please #intracommunity discussion #jumblr

[rreader]

Omgg! I have trying to find someone who writes about Penny Dreadful! It's my favourite show and I love Dorian Gray. Could you write something about Dorian x reader. Like Dorian is interested in them and reader knows he is playboy and stay away from him but somehow Dorian gets them in his bed and is just rough but still fluff. I'm sorry if you dont take request or something..

Pairing: Dorian Gray x Angel!ReaderFandom: Penny DreadfulWarnings: smut ; language

Summary: Dorian was bored. The people of London bored him so utterly.. and then, one day, he stumbled upon an angel that would make his life a lot less boring.

A/N: aww, don’t worry love, my requests are always open :) Thank you for this request! I absolutely loooove Dorian and wish they would have given him more screen time haha. But oh well, that’s why people like me exist, I guess lol. have some dorian smut :’)

                                                        *****

Firstthere was Vanessa.. then there was Angelique and lastly, there wasLily.

Allof them were fascinating at first, but then they left (in one way orthe other) andonce again, Dorian found himself to be alone and utterly bored.

Thatis, until he was casually strolling around London one day, not reallylooking for anything specific, but finding what he had desired eversince Lily had left. Another enigma for him to solve.

Thereyou stood, your eyes fixed on the surface of the riverThames, the sun casting its’ beams down on you, making itseem as though you were glowing.

ButDorian was able to see what others weren’t.

Itwasn’t the sun that made you emit this glow.

Hisfeet carried him over to your side, a seductive smile alreadyspreading on his lips.

“Forgiveme? Miss?”

Youdidn’t look at him.

“DorianGray.”

Oh,this would be a lot more fun than he thought.

Whatwere you? Where did you come from? What powers did you have?

“You’reahead of me, I’m afraid.”

“Callme, (Y/N).”

“(Y/N),”he let the name roll off of his lips like he was testing how it sounded.And he liked it. He could imagine himself moaning the name whilefucking you senseless, “You don’t seem to be from London.”

“BecauseI’m not,” your voice was neutral, your eyes never leaving thesurface of the water.

“Thenwhere are you from, exactly?”

Finally,you sighed and turned around to face him.

“Iknow who you are, Dorian Gray. I know what you are. And I know whatyou want from me. So let me make this clear from the start. I’m notinterested, unless you have to offer me something that other men can’t give me.”

Helaughed, taken aback by brashness.

“So youthink I’m interested in you?”

“I’mdifferent. I’m not like the rest of them. That is enough to peak yourinterest. Is it not?”

“Youseem to know a great deal about me. Yet, I know nothing of you, butyour name.”

“Andthat’s how it’ll always be. I’m not a conquest, Mister Gray.”

Youfinally walked around him and just when you were about to walk offthe bridge you were standing on, you could hear him yell: “Whoeversaid anything about you being a mere conquest?”

                                                  afew days later

Yourservant opened the door, just when you were walking down the stairs.

Youweren’t exactly surprised to see Dorian Gray standing in the doorway. You had actually expected him to show up a lot sooner.

“MisterGray..”

“Miss(Y/N). I hope I’m not disturbing.”

Younodded towards your servant with a small smile on your lips, lettinghim know that it was alright to leave you two alone.

“Howdid you find me?” you walked into the living room, with him followingclose by.

Youreached for the glass of Bourbon and poured one glass, handing it tohim. You yourself didn’t drink.

“I’ma well-connected man.”

Youoffered him a seat on the couch and sat down on the armchair oppositeof it.

“Andwhat is it that you desire here?”

“Ithink you’re well aware of that,” he looked at you from over therim of his drink.

Youraised one corner of your mouth and placed your folded hands in yourlap, your legs crossed.

“AmI?”

Hefinished his drink in a matter of seconds and placed the glass on thewooden coffee table in front of him. Then he leaned back into thecushions of the couch and studied you intensely.

Youstill had that glow around you, even though you were inside the house. Youdidn’t drink alcohol and you tried your hardest to stay away fromhim. But he knew people. He could sense it when someone wasinterested in him. He could sense it when someone wanted him.

“You’rean angel.”

“Isthat a compliment?”

“It’sa statement.”

Younarrowed your eyes at him, then you grinned at him. A genuine grin,for the first time.

“Welldone, Mister Gray. It usually takes people weeks, months, maybe evenyears before figuring it out. Yet, you only needed a few days.”

“Isthat why you’re trying so, so hard to stay away from me?” he got upand walked over to you, placing his hands on the armrests, trappingyou in between them. You did not lean back. You kept your posture andlooked into his eyes, “Because you live as a celibate?”

“Ifthis is what you’d like to believe, so be it. The truth is muchsimpler, I’m afraid. I know what you do in your free time. Who youdo, rather.”

Helicked his lips and slowly came closer and closer, until his mouthwas right beside your ear.

“Youwant to be special.. is that it?”

“No.I know that I’m special,” you turned your head to look at himagain. This closeness didn’t make you nervous at all. You were still asconfident as before.

“Ilike you, (Y/N),” he grinned, “I like you a lot. You’refascinating me. And I want you.”

“Alot of people want me. I want you to give me a reason to choose you, out of all of them.”

Hestraightened his back and held out his hand to you.

Withouthesitation, you reached for it and he helped you up.

“Showme your bedroom. And I’ll give you plenty of reasons.”

Youcouldn’t help it, but your curiosity got the better of you. He was ahandsome man and you had been looking for someone to spend your dayswith for a while now. And what better person, than someone who didn’tdie? You knew how to play your cards to make him stay with you.. tomake him not be interested in any other women anymore.

Soyou interlinked your fingers and pulled him after you, up the stairsand to your bedroom.

Itwas luxurious, spacious and bright. The huge bed in the middle of theroom, that looked like it was made for a queen, was the highlight. It looked comfortable.. like he wanted to stay in this bed for the rest of his days, holding you in his arms, while occasionally fucking you. 

“Alright,Dorian Gray. Show me your worth,” you opened up the lacing of yourdress until it fell to the ground. You weren’t wearing anything underit, so you were immediately naked.

Again,your confidence did not falter.

Whichonly seemed to turn him on even more, if that was possible at this point.

Hisearly seductive look turned into something.. darker. And for someonelike you, who was usually so bright and proper, it was a nice change.

Hedid not waste a single second and took off his clothes, while youwere laying down on your bed, legs already apart.

Dorian,however, had other ideas. He grabbed your ankle and pulled youtowards the foot of the bed, so that he was standing between yourlegs.

“My,my.. what would your master say if he saw you like this?”

“Heand I don’t get along anymore.”

“Ifigured,” he laughed and rubbed himself a couple of times, beforehe pressed his tip against your lips. You opened your mouth for himand he grabbed a fistful of your hair, pounding into your mouthmercilessly.

Somehow,the knowledge that you were an angel and shouldn’t be doing somethingas ‘ugly’ as this, made him even more excited.

Outof all the people he had fucked in his life, you were by far the onehe was most interested in.

Yournails dug into the flesh of his ass, your eyes never leaving his,letting him be in full control.

Youwanted to see what he was capable of. If he, unlike your previouspartners, could be in full control and still please you. Usually you had to be the dominant one. But you decided that, today, you’d be the submissive one for once.. 

Finally, after he couldn’t take it anymore and had to get to it before he came into your mouth,he took a step back and you released his dick with a loud 'plop’,licking your lips.

“Geton all fours,” he instructed.

Youdid as he ordered, your ass high in the air and he couldn’t help buttouch himself once more while looking at you like that.

“I’llwarn you. I’m not gentle,” his voice was raspy and low.. dangerous.

“Idon’t want you to be.”

Oh,fuck. He would enjoy this. He would so enjoy fucking you. And he knewthat he’d never fuck anyone else in his life. But he didn’t want to.

Thesecond he entered you, he knew that he would never need anyone elsebut you. It was as if his life suddenly made sense. And he didn’t know if that was just your kind of power, or if you were just that good, but it didn’t matter to him. All that mattered were you and him, right there and then.

Hedidn’t give you time to adjust – even if he felt like you didn’treally need it anyways – and started slamming into you withoutwarning.

Yougrabbed the bed sheets and started moaning, when his fingers foundtheir way into your hair and pull your head back.

Hereally was rough, but you liked it like that. You liked feeling thepalm of his hand slap your ass cheeks over and over again. You likedhow he pulled on your hair and wrapped his hand around your throatoccasionally. You liked how he treated you like you weren’t an angel..

But then again, you also appreciated the feathery kisses he spread on your back. Youliked the praises he whispered in your ear and you liked how he bitdown on your shoulder blades, leaving marks to indicate that you were now his.

And you didn’t mind. Not one bit.

“Tellme,” he whispered into your ear, sweat dropping from his forehead,“Tell me that you only want me. For the rest of our lives.”

Andeven though you never thought it possible, you actually replied: “Ido,” your eyes shut close, biting down hard on your lip, while you both came.

#Anonymous #dorian gray x reader #dorian x reader #dorian gray imagine #penny dreadful imagine #pd imagine #dorian gray #penny dreadful #pd #reader #requests