#he’s fixing the fact he did it maliciously by doing it again without the pressure and stress that comes with it bc tbo can just abandon | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yandere-daydreams · 4 years

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Title: Collared.

Pairing: Yandere!Malleus/Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Synopsis: Malleus’ biggest mistake was treating you as a lover would, rather than as a captor. Unfortunately, his patience is limited, and he can only spend so much time waiting for you to adjust before he resorts to stricter methods.

TW: Graphic Violence, Burning, Mentions Of Blood, Implied Kidnapping, Prolonged Imprisonment, Unhealthy Relationships, Slight Bondage, Use Of Morally-Grey Magic, Emotional Manipulation, and Slight Victim-Blaming.

Your head was beginning to hurt.

It was the pressure, more than anything, the weight of a crown that you’d never wanted to wear, a crown that hadn’t been designed to accommodate someone without horns or wings or enough strength to make the strain bearable. It was a beautiful piece, objectively, a gift from a diplomat hoping to establish a relationship with Malleus shortly after his coronation, but the jewels were heavy, carved into ornate shapes and perched on top of needle-thin peaks, and although you’d been enthralled by the idea of wearing something that looked as delicate as ice, that swirled in impossible ways and curved angles human hands wouldn’t be able to attempt to achieve, the thin base dug into your scalp, and fashion in the Valley of Thorns was so layered, so limiting, the tiara only served as another annoyance you had to bear, another thing to push the air from your lungs and make your vision blur and force you onto the line between discomfort and active agony.

You’d tried to remove it while he met with his advisors, while Malleus spoke and all the attention was on him rather than his disagreeable human companion, but he’d caught you by the wrist the moment you tried, forcing your hand back into your lap before any of his courtiers could notice you’d move. He’d always been particular about the way you presented yourself, in front of him, in front of your subjects. It might’ve been because he took so much pride in doting on you, insisting on dressing you himself every morning and interpreting any refusal as willful disobedience. He might’ve just enjoyed making sure you were as aware of the power he had over you as he was. The latter was more likely, knowing the demeanor he’d taken on after he’d whisked you away to his kingdom, after he’d taken the throne and all the power in the county, with it. That would explain why he felt the need to keep an arm draped over your shoulders, now.

It would explain why he wouldn’t let go, despite your attempts to shake him off.

“They don’t mean you any harm,” He muttered, the voice kept low in order to escape the notice of his guards, trailing after him like ever-present shadows. “No one in this castle wants to see you suffer. You don’t have a reason to act as if they do.”

No one wanted to see you suffer, expect him. Malleus always seemed to forget that, when looking for the source of your irritation. “Everyone here treats me like your consort.”

There was a blink, then another. You could’ve groaned. “But, (Y/n), you are my consort--”

“Not because I want to be.” It was a hollow mantra, something you’d said time and time again. At your side, Malleus grimaced, and you tried to walk a little faster, fixing your eyes on the stone floor to avoid the concerned glances of the guards. “I’m a prisoner here, Malleus. Nothing you try to do will make me less of a prisoner, not when your methods are so…” You trailed off, letting out a heavy sigh. “Not when everything you do is so confining.”

“Everything I do, I do because I care for you,” He explained, taking on that indignant, scolding aire you’d always hated. He was never careless, but he’d never been so richeous, either. Not until he’d gotten an excuse to be. “If you think of yourself as a prisoner, there’s nothing I can do to remedy--”

It was moment of impulse, more of a fleeting idea than a genuine question. You might’ve regretted asking it at all, if something in the back of your head hadn’t started hammering against your skull at the thought of carrying on this conversation. “If I wanted to, would you let me leave?”

There was a slight pause, an alien silence as he stopped moving, his arm falling from your shoulders. “It would destroy me,” He mumbled, by way of excuse. “I don’t know if I’d be able to go on if you--”

“Would I be able to leave?” This time, you tried to be more forceful, more instant, but it came out wrong, brash, frustrated. One of the more devoted members of Malleus’ entourage took half a step towards you, but he was quickly waved off. “Would you let me go, or would you stop me?”

It was his turn to sigh, now. Somehow, you couldn’t bring yourself to pity him. “If it came to that, I wouldn’t have another choice, my love.”

That was all you needed to hear. By now, Malleus’ guards knew better than to stop you, only separating and letting you pass, your pace now fervid and your hand already in your hair, tearing at your crown, working at clasps and combs until the ornament came free and you could hear stone collide with metal, until it hit the floor and shattered, falling apart more suddenly than something so finely made should. “Then I’m a prisoner,” You snapped, not bothering to spare him a second glance as you fled down the hall. “And I don’t see a reason to listen to my captor’s advice.”

He didn’t move to follow you, and for once, you were thankful for his disregard.

At least you’d be able to deal with his scorn from a distance, for the rest of the day.

Your wrist was going to be sore, tomorrow.

If you were being honest with yourself, it was your own fault. You’d agitated him, and by bringing up the fact that you didn’t want to be here, that you didn’t love him, you’d made him paranoid, jealous, clingy, in the way a predator might cling to prey it couldn’t bring itself to kill. It must’ve comforted him, to keep a hand pressed against the small of you back or an arm around your waist, a fist wrapped around your forearm and his pointed, painted nails burrowed so far into your skin, you were scared he might draw blood if you tried to pull away. You should’ve been used to it, by now, the possessive way he held you. You’d had more than enough time to learn to tolerate it.

You’d had more than enough time, but that was part of the problem, wasn’t it?

You’d had more than enough time to come to terms with how little you wanted to tolerate it.

To your credit, you didn’t try to tear yourself away from him, not at first. All you did was slow down, tripping over your own feet on the uneven terrain of his courtyard before coming to a stop. You tried to avoid paying too much attention to the scenery whenever Malleus saw fit to take you farther than the castle walls, knowing how little you’d see of the outside world and how easy it was to miss, but you forced yourself to glare down at the weeds forcing themselves through well-worn cobblestone as Malleus glanced towards. It’d be easier if you didn’t meet his eyes. And, when he failed to ask, all you did was voice your thoughts, your tone as neutral as you could manage. “You’re hurting me.”

There was a beat of silence, a quick glance towards your wrist. When he let out a quiet, breathy laugh, you couldn’t stop yourself from deflating. “You should’ve said something,” He chastised, playfully. “It’s easy to forget how fragile humans can be, especially when they’re so rare. Silver would sooner bleed out than let Lilia fret over his injuries, and I can’t say you’re much better.”

And yet, he let you go. If anything, his grip only grew tighter, a pulsing ache soon forming under his palm. “Malleus, that’s nice, but--”

“Silver is considerate, though. If he bites his tongue, it’s only because he knows speaking would be more alarming than keeping quiet. I’m not sure where he picked up the trait, but that’s thoughtful of him, isn’t it?” He didn’t wait for an answer, only clamping down, watching with a small smile as your free hand shot to his wrist and you struggled not to cry out. Pulling away wasn’t an option, anymore. It was all you could do to keep your fingertips from going numb, let along tug your way out of his iron-clad grip. “I don’t really expect you to understand. You’ve been too unreasonable to see the point in sacrifice, lately.”

“I don’t have anything to sacrifice.” It was true, he wouldn’t have been able to deny that. What little you’d once had, he’d taken away. What you tried to keep to yourself, he pried from your arms without the slightest bit of shame. You knew that, and so did Malleus, somewhere in the back of his twisted, deluded mind. But, judging from the way his eyes narrowed as you went on, he didn’t care for the reminder. “You’re hurting me, is that what you want? Am I just supposed to grit my teeth and let you?”

There was the shortest hesitation, just a moment’s worth of reluctance. He opened his mouth, but you already had your answer. By the time he thought to lie, you were reeling back, digging your heels into the pavement and struggling in vain to wrench yourself away from him. “Let me go!” You didn’t try to keep your voice down. You didn’t care when a passing couple pretended not to stare and the nearest soldiers edged away from their post and Malleus scowled, his patience worn thin enough for his frustration to show. “You’re a monster--”

The air hitched in your throat before you could process why. Malleus hardly moved, but all it took was a click of his tongue and a glare only slightly more malicious than his usual glower and then, something white-hot and burning was searing itself into your skin, little more than a spark of what you knew he was capable of. It only lasted a second, most likely less than that, but the pain didn’t lessen as Malleus released you, allowing you the mercy of drawing your arm back into your chest and cradling your injury. The wound was raw, throbbing every time it made contact with the chilled air, your vision blurring at just the thought of touching it. If you hadn’t known better, you may’ve gone running to a healer out of instinct alone, but you had a feeling Malleus wasn’t in the mood to deal with that kind of defiance.

“Take this as a lesson,” He spat, the warning dripping with a venom you’d never heard from him. “I won’t be this kind, in the future. The burn will heal, but next time you insist I’m so awful, the damage won’t be as temporary. Do you understand?”

Slowly, you forced yourself to nod, earning an unimpressed scoff from Malleus. He accepted your lackluster submission, though, turning away and signaling you to follow with a slight, nonchalant wave. You moved to comply, but you hesitated before you started after him. You couldn’t help it.

You were injured, but he wasn’t holding onto you, anymore. He wasn’t dragging you around like a loyal mutt, forced onto a lead by an optimistic master. You were injured, but it’d worked.

Any amount of pain would’ve been worth it, if you’d finally found a way to get under his skin.

He was going to kill you.

You really hadn’t meant to lash out. You hadn’t meant to hurt him, but he’d startled you, caught you off guard while you were trying to fall asleep in a bed that was too soft and too decorative to appeal to faeries and the sparse, scattered hours they spend asleep. He’d put his hands on you, and you’d panicked. You’d felt his teeth on your neck, and for a moment, you hadn’t been able to think.

You hadn’t meant to, but now there were three thin, ragged scratches running from his cheek his jaw, the bottom-most still bleeding, and Malleus was going to kill you.

You tried to remedy the situation, while you still could. You’d never hurt him before, never affected him in a way left such tangible evidence, and to be honest, part of you still couldn’t believe you’d managed it. Malleus seemed to be stuck in a similar mindset, his lips parting slightly as his hand drifted from your hip to his cheek, tracing the jagged wound. He didn’t flinch, didn’t shy away from the contact, but that didn’t matter. Whether there was pain or not, you’d done something to harm him. That wasn’t an offense he was going to forgive easily.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to--” You cut yourself off, sitting up before you could say another word, before you could make things worse for yourself. There was a dip in the mattress, a small shift in his posture, but you tried not to linger on the way his shoulder squared as you cupped the unmarried side of his face. “I’m sorry, I’m really, really sorry, you just… I didn’t know what you were doing, and you know I don’t like it when you... I don’t like it when you touch me.”

“You cut me.” He sounded surprised, more shocked than he should’ve been. It made sense, for Malleus. He’d never liked to acknowledge that you could hurt him, let alone the possibility that you’d try to. “You cut me.”

“I-I know,” You tried, settling onto your knees in front of him. Suddenly, you were thankful he’d chosen wait until you were in bed. “But, it’s alright, you just need to--”

This time, he didn’t wait for you to finish. Before you could finish, his fingers were tangled in your hair, the heel of his palm pressed against your forehead. You almost wished their had been some kind of magic word - a spell, an incantation to give you an idea of his intentions. Instead, there was only the feeling of his nails digging into your scalp, a sourceless sense of confusion, and exhaustion. Pure, unadulterated exhaustion.

He didn’t even bother to catch you, as you collapsed.

Your throat was on fire, when you woke up.

It was a dry, cracked, excruciating sort of pain, the type that had curling into yourself and clutching at your neck and wondering if you should try to drink something or close your eyes or scream. You might’ve tried to. If you did, though, you couldn’t hear it, couldn’t feel it, not underneath that blend of acid and rust that seemed to coat your vocal cords. It was all you could to roll onto your side, to try to focus on something, rather than letting your vision blur and fade around the edges every time you thought about straining yourself. But, you’d regret that, too, when the thing lying beside you came into focus.

Or, the person, rather. If you could still call him that.

Malleus was awake, you had to assume he’d always been. Faeries didn’t need sleep, not like a human might, meaning he was conscious and aware and, when he noticed you staring up at him with an expression best described as ‘petrified’, he was able to smile, to smirk, to meet your eyes with all the composure he’d lacked, the last time you’d shared his company. It might’ve been hours ago, it might’ve been days ago, but you had no way of being certain. The black, satin sheets underneath you were still the same ones you’d crumpled onto, under his spell. The hearth on the other side of his bedroom was still lit, but it always was, an eerily green fire left to burn constantly in an effort to fight the pervasive darkness of his homeland. The only thing that might’ve changed was his appearance, his spotless white tunic now unbuttoned, his hair brushed away from his face, and in his hand, he toyed with something. A handle, maybe, a strip of dark strip of leather that, when you thought to check, led back in your direction. Reflexively, you brought a hand to the base of your neck, where the pain was at its worst.

Huh.

You really should’ve seen this coming.

A choker. That’s what it felt like, at least. A circlet of cold, polished metal pulled tight against your skin, made to swirl and branch out in a way that, almost ironically, made you think of the thornbushes Malleus had always been so fond of. As far as you could tell, there wasn’t a buckle, no latch or pin that’d let you remove the contraption without freeing yourself of your head, in the process. You couldn’t see its color or its size, but you were thankful for that. Just imagining the way it must look, a collar and a leash and the pathetic, weakened mortal forced into it…

Quickly, you decided not to linger on the thought, and to concentrate on finding a way out of it, instead.

You held onto your side of the tether, hoping beyond hope that you’d just jumped to the wrong conclusion. “What is this?”

The words came out soft, just bordering on inaudible, but Malleus was close enough to hear. At first, he only hummed, scanning over you idly, evaluating your current state. You must’ve been unconscious for more than a day, at least. Clearly, his rage had time to cool into something much more dangerous than impulsive wrath. “I thought this would be… appropriate.” You hated the way he spoke, with rehearsed inflections and a practiced stiltedness. As if there was a reason to pretend he wasn’t satisfied with his work. “I didn’t have another option. You’ve been acting out so often and… What’s the phrase mortals are so fond of? Biting the hand that pets you?”

“Don’t bite the hand that feeds you,” You muttered, absently. The numb realization came first, but the anger was quick to follow. Quick to overwhelm, despite your better judgement. “I’m not a fucking dog--”

As soon as you started to raise your voice, he pulled your cord taut, jerking you forward and causing the metal around your neck to contract, just enough to press into your skin. You didn’t even get a chance to ask what he’d done. It wasn’t just pain, anymore. It wasn’t just a flame being held against your arm, or your thigh, or whatever part of you Malleus decided he loved the least, that day. It was a puncture, an injection, something that forced itself into your body and refused to withdraw. It was something driving itself under your skin and writhing, a parisite curling around your collarbone and biting. Your hands shot back to your collar, clawing at the seamless metal, but as far as you could tell, it hadn’t moved. It hadn’t done anything. There was nothing to fight against, nothing to dig your nails into, no blood or bruise or mark. Just the slightest bit of warmth and Malleus hovering over you, rubbing small, shallow circles into your shoulder and making your lungs tighten in your chest, making it more impossible to breath with every passing second.

It was almost worse when it stopped, when Malleus sighed and dropped your leash and you were able to gasp for air. This time, Malleus was there to catch you, to guide your head against his chest as he cooed sweet, contented nothings. You’d almost forgotten how cruel magic could be, in the wrong hands.

You’d almost forgotten how sadistic he could be, with the right incentives.

“It’s not that bad, is it? There’s never going to be a wound, but I tried to make sure it would hurt. Just enough to let you see how I feel, every time you find a new way to break my heart.” There was a languid sigh, a shake of his head. You had to lock your jaw into place just to keep from calling him another awful name, just to keep from earning yourself another pull and another minute of whatever method of torture he’d come up with. “I can’t trust you to behave for the sake of your own safety. This was the only way, my love. If I can’t trust you to love me…” There was a brief pause, a light kiss pushed into your temple. Regretful, but not remorseful. Apologetic, but more sorry he chose to imprison someone so stubborn than for the lengths he was willing to go to, if it meant controlling your temper. You couldn’t say you were surprised, but your disappointment would’ve been impossible to ignore.

Although, you didn’t have much time to linger on the feeling as Malleus took up your cord, wrapping it around his fist as he went on.

“You’ll just have to learn to fear me, instead.”

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mandalore-s · 3 years

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The door — Darth Vader x fem OC

WARNINGS: burned vader, smut, fingering, thigh riding, death, the OC is a nightsister.

ALSO: It is not corrected, I will fix it as quickly possible.

Vader gracefully guided Annika's steps in the planet's hall. The music sounded at a fast pace and the two moved perfectly. After a few more steps, the noise stopped and a new song started, this time, slower and more melancholy.

Vader ran a hand around Annika's neck, making her body shiver, he realized the effect it was transmitted and decided to continue. His hands went around her arms until Vader reached her waist, where he landed with a firm grip. The girl's body reacted, arching slightly in front of Vader. With the soft rhythm of the melody echoing throughout the room, Annika rested her head on Vader's chest, feeling her soft breath enter her ears. Little hands of hers slid down her back and found lightly on Annika cloak and left this time on her chest. Vader tugged at the girl's chin, making her face the same.

“Did I ever tell you how beautiful you look tonight?" —His robotic voice from Vader filled her ears making her smile. “You look beautiful, as always."

His gloved hands traveled and caressed every possible part of the girl's body discreetly so that no one would notice. A slow sigh was found in Annika's mouth.

“As much as I'm enjoying this ... stop. They will notice.” —Annika spoke, placing her hands in Vader's. The size difference was noticeable.

“No one would dare face me." —Vader whispered behind the mask, caressing the girl's neck making her close her eyes taking advantage of the situation. "And I don't care. There is only one person I care about here and she is not complaining about my...touches.” —He continued to caress her all over her body, discreetly placing one of his hands between Annika's thighs, which made her open her eyes and look at the Lord in fright.

"Don't pretend you didn't like it. I felt your heart racing. Besides, that dress..— Vader continued to lift her hand while the other slightly squeezed her neck. Annika's legs closed slightly against his hands while he massaged torture-related parts, never getting where she wanted to.

“Easy. They will notice.” —Vader spoke using her words against the same. "Besides... you are in the same rooms as me tonight.” —Vader removed his hand between her legs, leaving the hall and Annika without structures, then following the Dark Lord longing for more.

When Annika entered the rooms, Vader was standing facing the planet's horizon.

"It is not cool to do that to a girl, Lord Vader." —Annika spoke hoarsely emphasizing his name making him slowly turn to Annika in the dark of the starlit room.

Vader robotic breath filled the room and he slowly walked over to face the girl. His gloves went around Annika's bare arms making her shiver.

“There are many things I would like to do with you."—Vader said slowly as he ran his hands over the non-tissue parts of her body.

“And what is stopping you?"

“Perhaps...the noises that will come out of your mouth if I start. We don't want to attract attention, do we, Annika?” —A soft squeeze from the Force ran through the girl's breasts and a slight moan left her mouth. Annika remembered a night before where she had stayed under him...that night. Darth Vader knew every point on her body that yearned for him. She wondered what he would be able to do with her pressed against a wall and all of her armor pressing her body against it.

"I am impressed by your imagination, little witch.”—Vader pulled the girl's heels by the Force making her as low as possible next to Lord. His gloved hand grabbed her chin and stared at her.

"This is your fault." —Annika crashed into the wall when Vader took steps toward her, running his hands over the girl's waist and belly. “Damn it. I would like to kiss you right now.”

Vader froze. He remembered their first day in his chamber.

"You know this is impossible.” —He continued to stroke the girl's thighs and she looked at him maliciously. His familiar hands green with magic and the room closed in a perfect chamber for him. For both. A smile broke out on her face.

“Keep telling yourself that. “ —She motioned silently to take off her helmet and he left her. Her hands came up to reveal his scarred face. "I'm afraid you have to get down, Lord Vader."

“Do I?” —The Sith Lord placed her on the wall, wrapping his arms around her waist and ass, leaving her at his height. He pressured the bodies to take his breath away. Annika's heavy breath beat against his face, but he wouldn't be the first to kiss.

And it didn't take another second.

Annika's lips clasped with his as the Lord walked his hands over every strip of naked girl's request he reached. Annika moaned into his mouth making him let out a slow breath. Their tongues explored each moment and second. Vader was at the girl's mercy and enjoyed the best sensations with her. Annika's hands went to the Lord's cloak and unbuttoned it and dropped to the cold floor. Vader walked away.

“What?” —She looked meaningless with a red face. Vader put two fingers in her mouth making her run her tongue around. His circular, wet fingers massaged Annika's breasts while her mouths were glued together. "Vader...” —He motioned for her to be quiet.

“Are you excited to know that someone can come here anytime?" —The Lord said as she moved with her touches.

“It excites me more to know that anyone who interrupts us you would kill."—Annika spoke purringly.

“The fact that I am the greatest evil in the galaxy makes you like this..." —Vader took his hand to the place Annika wanted and a soft moan escaped her lips. She was already wet before she even entered the room. Vader took his hand away and Annika protested. The Lord's tongue passed over the girl's neck and the entire length of her collarbone, face and neck. Her hand tightened on her body. "Yeah...I was right.”

Her legs were slung around Vader's waist, she tried to move as much as possible trying to create more contact with all that armor. Her thighs pressed against him.

Vader reached the girl's lips again suggesting her tongue and gently removing her dress. He let her out of his grips to throw the fabric on the floor, revealing her breasts and her anguish for feeling more of him. Vader certifies the Force to place it pressed against the wall again.

“No...No, I want you. I want your hands around me. I want your whole body to press against mine. Squeezing me. I don't want you to use your tricks on me.” —Annika spoke and he obeyed.

Vader exerting the Force to tighten her clit and her breasts at the same time. The girl moaned loudly and her eyes closed but the Lord stopped.

“Without using tricks." —He said putting his hand on the girl’s throat and squeezing. He knew she loved it when he did that. “Or should I continue?"

“Y-yes..." —Annika closed her eyes, taking advantage of every sensation he gave, clutching her chest in vain. Her thighs moved around him. Vader ran his fingers down her breasts, belly until he reached her tender spot. Fingers her back and forth movements are shallow.

“Hmm...” —Vader grunted. "I think my fingers will do a better job."

“Vader... I wanted to try something.” —He paid attention to her words and the sweet sound of. Annika held on to the metallic arm he had won during the Clone Wars. She takes the gloves in his mouth and removed them. Vader moaned softly. "Use it.” —Annika lowered her arm and the cold metal in the middle of her thighs resulted in a groan. Vader stroked slowly, surprised by the attitude.

Vader introduced himself when he updated his metallic arm to feel the sensations as if it were the arm he had lost. Without the gloves... it would be an interesting experience.

The metal traveled slowly down her clit before descending further. The cold in contact with his skin made one grumble with pleasure.

“I'm surprised..." —He said, touching her slowly. "I didn't know you were open to that kind of...experience. Particularly I wouldn't have thought of that...”—He whispered in her ear. "But I'm happy to know that I turn you on enough to want each part of me to touch you in different ways."

The Lord's breath tickle her exposed skin. A hoarse cry of pleasure escaped the girl's mouth when Vader discovered another sensitive spot on her body. A sigh left his mouth.

"Vader...” —Her thighs tightened around the metallic arm. The Sith inserted a metallic finger gently and slowly into her. She moaned obscenely almost loud enough. Fuck.

“Take...off...the other...g-glove...P-please.” —She whispered between her moans. And fuck, she was really into it. Once again, he obeyed her: The other metallic hand reached her throat, putting a slight pressure on the area. Her eyes were closed enjoying him. The hand marked her throat and the same hand left her neck and was tightening hers waist and belly.

Vader was no longer moving his hands. She rides on the metallic arm with all the armor suffocating her against the wall. Pornography Illegal. He thought.

“Fuck...come to bed. I can finish your fantasies after. I have another idea on my mind” —Vader said and she opened her eyes, slowly. The feeling of his hands letting off her body made the girl feeling incomplete. He held her naked body tightly while effortlessly carrying her to the huge bed.

Vader reached his helmet with the Force and put it back on, leaving her confused. But she didn’t asked.

“Here is the thing.” —Vader placed her on top of him, with the legs on each side wrapped around his spine. His hands travelled in her body. His robotic breath was driving her insane. “You will ride...my arm. Break it if you need. I don’t care.”

“Vader...Your voice...robotic...makes me feel so much things.” —She said moving in his thighs in a slow back and forth motion. And he felt it. He still had his thighs and he was feeling it. And she knew it.

“Why don’t you tell me?” —The robotic voice again. The robotic breathing. Her heart could explode in any moment. But she didn’t stopped her moves in his thigh. Tease.

“I have to...a lot of self control every day while you're surrounded by powerful and influential people. The way you talk and act...even the way you kill...Once I saw you...”

“Hmm?” —It was like a praise for his ears. He wanted more. His hands tightened her back making her tighter on his thighs as she moved torturously.

“Chocking someone to death...it was...I shouldn’t felt that way...b-but...” —She moaned loudly and his hands covered her mouth. “So…breathtaking.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He was so hard.

Vader’s fingers reached her clit stimulating the movements she was doing, while her other hand covered her mouth. His breathe was driving her. All that she could think was about his breath and his hands.

“Fuck…you’re soaked…Better, than.” —Without warning, Vader straightened up on the bed quickly. The Sith pulled his back together so she was sitting better on his lap. He bent her legs until she was comfortable in that position. Two metal fingers penetrated her and she almost scremed with her eyes closed. By the Force, he sensed that it wasn’t a scream of pain.

Two fingers inside her while the other hand gently massaged her breasts and scratched her waist and spine. She was riding smoothly, getting ready until it was good for her.

And then she did it.

Her breasts pressed against the cold metal of the armor's chest made her move a little faster. The heavy metal breath of him was to close of her ears. Groans escaped her mouth profanely and she bit her lip to try to contain the noises. But Vader didn’t liked it.

“I want to hear. Fuck, I don’t care. Anyone who interrupts us is going to die. Let..Let…—He ran his fingers inside her mouth. “Them out.”

“…You liked it, hm? Knowing that I can throw my lightsaber out the door and decapitate anyone who crosses it…”

She moved faster and stronger against his fingers.

“That’s it.” —Vader thought how good was having a metal arm. Metal fingers. The way she was using his parts for her own pleasure and the way he was feeling it, every movement. Vader wanted to be stuck in that sensation for life. “You could break my whole body and I would reassemble it every time to have you like this.”

His other arm reached around the neck behind her back and was scratching heavily without caring if it was hurting her or not. He didn’t care. The fingers inside her supposed to hurt but it wasn’t. Starts, thanks it wasn’t hurting. His breath behind the helmet was gradually failing. It was too much for him. “Y-you okay?” —She said moaning.

“More than.” —He strongly pressured her clit with the Force, while playing with the rest of the body. She screamed.

“Vader!” —She was losing her energy and so he decided to help.

“Hm…relax.” —Her chest rose and fell very fast and he smoothed her inside his fingers. Then he started to move. “That’s it…I got you.”

And, fuck. He wanted to have his arm broken by her. All the weight of her body deposited on his fingers. Her head fell on the armor's shoulders and she pressed her body painfully against his. The sensation of the breathing and his movements breathing against her was intoxicating. Her breasts accompanied the robotic breathing of the armor. “Vader…” —A robotic groan escaped his helmet and another from her mouth. “Don’t…it’s too much for me…” —The fact that she was saying about his moan made him crazy. Stars. He was feeling her so good under his fingers.

Vader stimulated her with the Force and he knew she was coming. He violently plucked her hair pleasantly by the neck and made her face him.

“Open your eyes.” —Eyes and mouth half closed looking him, the helmet. She was breathing hard and moaning low. Her best look. “Keep them open, I want you looking at me when you cum.”

With final moves on her part and her head propped up on Vader's hands, looking at the helmet, she came looking at him. He couldn’t stop a slow, heavy groan leaving his throat.

“D-don’t move. Please.” —She asked, felling on his fingers. “J-just a little bit…” —She said moving very slowly against his fingers and reaching for Vader’s other hand, guiding to squeeze her breasts. “Feels so…good.”

“Good girl.”

She slowly came out of his fingers and sat down between his thighs, throwing him behind the bed and laying on top of the armor. It took minutes for her to compose herself and be able to return to normal breathing.

“Darth Vader.” —His name was in her mouth. “How can still be so excited listening to the sound of your breath?”

“It makes you more excited to know that I put my gloves…over your cum? That I'm going to walk around there and nobody will know that you were riding so dirty on me?”

Her legs were rubbing against his thighs. Then, in a quick movement he put her under him and pressed half the weight of the armor on her, she moaned looking at him.

“You like it, hm? Being so tight against me.” —He whispered close to her ear. And she was already wet for Vader again. “I'm flattered” —His gloved hands passed close to her tender spot.

“We…have all night…don’t we?” —She asked in a whisper.

“We do. But, not now…just get some rest.I need to kill who's listening behind the door.”

“Wait, WHAT?” —She spoke while he left the bed. Vader walked silently through the door and opened it, revealing a curious look from several employees, now in fear. It only took a gentle movement of his hand to break the necks of the employees. And then, the door was closed again.

“You did know they were here all this time?”

“Didn't you say it would excite you to know that I would kill anyone who came through that door?”

#darth vader smut #darth vader x OC #star wars smut #burned darth vader #vader smut #darth vader one shot

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sapphic-lemonair · 3 years

Text

My Last Post Regarding The Tommy Scandal:

Let me start off by just saying holy hell, what a day.

And second:

Twitter is literally the most disappointing platform I have ever been apart of.

I don’t even know where to begin with how badly Twitter handled the situation with Tommy. I’ll admit, it isn’t the worst they’ve acted before, but damn they really didn’t do their best either. It sucks, cause the situation could have been handled better- and it was at first.

Cis Twitter stans are probably some the most confusing bunch I’ve ever come across. The fact that they pick and choose who can get away with doing controversial things is so annoying, and probably one of the most high and mighty god complexes I’ve ever seen. The fact that they called out and made Tommy trend instead of the actual problem itself was just pathetic in my opinion. KSI has interacted with so many other creators before in the past, a prime example being Quackity, yet no one made a single post in calling them out until now. This fact alone just goes to show that Twitter stans will come out of hibernation when they feel like it.

Twitter had made no type of effort in the past to call out KSI when he first made these transphobic comments before. There were no trending tags or @‘s or “lets educate him 🥰” posts for him because Twitter didn’t bother to care about it until now. The amount of hypocritical energy that was brimming through the platform is astounding.

We’ve gone through months of Twitter stans watching by as KSI interacted with other Minecraft youtubers and not a single one of them complained the entire time until now.

A lot of the adults on that platform did nothing but post passive aggressive comments to back handed advice. Adults, actual adults, were mad that a kid they put on some pedestal made one mistake and continued to state about how “disappointed” they were in him. Let me just remind you that once again, there’s no reason for any of the older fans to talk down to minors like some type of parent. Cause you’re NOT. It was very mature of Tommy to reach out to his own mom and take effort to see how he had hurt his words had affected his fans. It’s so abundantly clear that Tommy would never maliciously hurt his fandom in any way, not to mention that his first instinct would be to immediately apologize to everyone as well.

It was honestly mind boggling to see so many adults debating on whether or not is was morally right to forgive a 16 year old for a mistake he would obviously fix. The amount of people who were making threads stating how “it’s valid if you never want to forgive Tommy” was childish in my opinion. You’re adults.....holding a grudge against an actual child??? Like come on.

Twitter stans did nothing but juggle back and forth with “Tommy needs to address the situation right now!” And “Tommy, you need to take a while and think about what you said 🥰”. Yet when Tommy posted his first apology people were mad that it didn’t live up to their expectations. Were they aware that Tommy, like I said, is a whole child who was under the pressure of posting an apology despite not having time to really grasp what had happened? So many people flamed him because his post “sounded so confused” and “Tommy, honey nobody called you transphobic 😘”.

Except you did.

Of course Tommy is gonna sound confused in his apology. He wakes up and the first thing he’s greeted with are hashtags linking HIS NAME to the the word transphobic/transphobia. Of course that’s gonna be the first thing he apologizes for! Twitter basically made nothing but click bait posts that did nothing to properly explain to Tommy why transphobia was being brought up. And even despite this Tommy STILL apologized even when he didn’t know what he did wrong.

It’s so blatantly obvious Twitter realized that instead of tackling the problem at head, aka calling out KSI for his transphobic behavior, they chose to force and instigate a minor for collaborating and apologize on KSI’s behalf. It’s the most childish thing I’ve seen this year. It’s clear that Twitter stans are just awaiting to jump into next drama and put their two cents in before leaving the moment they realize they can’t get clout off their posts.

It’s frustrating because the amount of users making those posts as well weren’t even trans. The amount of “savior complex” energy cis Twitter stans showed while they spoke up over actual trans people who were genuinely upset was so embarrassing. It’s stupid to see how so many cis users got thousands of likes and retweets on their posts and acting on behalf of the trans community.

I’ll just wrap up by giving a genuine thank you to the trans community on Twitter who had the best interests in the whole Tommy situation. I’m sorry that a lot of you got trampled over by the cis users who basically used your problems as clout chasing tactics. You had every right to be upset and I appreciate that a lot of you took the situation with ease and attempted to quietly solve the problem without a hassle. Once again the cis side of Twitter blew everything out of proportion and attempted to but their two cents into the whole thing despite knowing it was an issue for the trans community to handle.

Dear Cis Twitter users, next time don’t be hypocrites and tell other users that they have no right to speak up about the situation before making your own posts for clout and followers. You look like clowns. I’d like to think that in another situation like those Twitter will act more mature....but I wouldn’t count on it. However a super big thank you to trans tumblr users who treated the entire situation with a mature personality. The mass difference between the two platforms shows me that people here have always had the best interest in actually making a difference.

In conclusion: Twitter is a dumpster fire 😁

#tommyinnit #mcyt #hopefully I won’t have to talk about this again #yesterday was so draining I hate Twitter

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blursed-ninjago-ideas · 4 years

Text

Stolen

Take this gift (throws in vague direction of Mod Ivy) and suffer with it. The only benefits to being my friend is me hurting you with angst.

TW: mind control, violence blood, strangulation, attempted murder.

---

Nya knew it had been a bad idea to go into the pyramid. They’d never had much luck with ancient tombs and. There had been the Serpentine tombs, the FSM’s tomb, the various ancient temples in that whole mess with Harumi, and probably more she couldn’t think of. They should have turned back after the first boobytrap, after the first time they almost died, after the goddamn skeleton-

But they hadn’t. And Jay had opened the tomb. At first the situation was only mildly concerning, they had dealt with Serpentine before, even if this one might be considerably more creepy than the others, but-

Her interest in Nya’s brother drained any and all good will Nya may have had towards someone left in this place. And when she expressed what she wanted to do to him, Nya geared up for a fight.

A fight she didn’t get to have. She had no idea how that Serpentine had managed to do it, but that spear had knocked back everyone. Everyone except Kai. And now he has hovering in the air, body twitching and convulsing, and the glowing golden light that raged like fire was being pulled from him, and he was screaming.

They tried to fight her. But that snake-that thing-was more powerful than the five of them combined. As she hit the wall, Nya’s head rang in pain, vision blurring slightly, the only real thing she could see being the light slowly drained from her brother.

And then the light left him, and he dropped to the ground. For a split second Nya thought he might be dead, but then she heard a loud intake of breath, and Kai sprang to his feet, stumbling for a split second.

“Okay, snake lady, now you’ve got it coming,” he growled, and Nya couldn’t help but admire her brother’s attitude. Then he thrust his fist out-only to stop short, plain brown eyes growing wide in alarm. “What the-where is my-”

“Cold without your fire, isn’t it?” the snake asked, slithering closer. “I thank you for your gift, former fire elemental.”

She spun only once, but that was enough to send Kai flying back into the wall with a resounding crack that made Nya yell in alarm. Despite that, he stumbled to his feet again, one hand on his head and the other growing to his sword. Nya moved forward to help him, but-

The snake queen moved faster than either of them ever could. In a split second she had knocked Nya back, and had her spear at Kai’s throat.

Her spear, now glowing with fire.

“You have a fighting spirit I have not seen in a very long time,” the snake said, slithering closer to her brother, one hand grasping his chin. “I admire that.”

“Thanks for the compliment,” Kai hissed, his tone wavering only slightly as his now dull brown eyes focused on the spear at his throat, flames licking at his skin and tip drawing blood. “I don’t appreciate it all that much, though.”

The snake laughed, the sound high and raspy. “You truly are a specimen. The only human I ever knew was quite the opposite. “A fighter, yes, but also a coward. A betrayer. I will never trust another human again thanks to him.”

“Well, I hate to break it to you, lady, but you can’t trust me either,” Kai growled. “If this spear weren’t at my throat, I’d already have your head cut clean off.”

The snake’s laugh was darker this time, devoid of any humor. “You’d have tried.”

For a long moment, the snake didn’t do anything, spear held at Kai’s throat while Nya glanced desperately between the two, searching for a way to attack her without her noticing and killing her brother.

Then the snake’s hand on Kai’s chin yanked up, bringing them face to face. The snake stared into Kai’s eyes, expression turning into a twisted grin.

“I think,” the snake said slowly, “That you would be very useful to me.”

Nya realized what her plan was a split second before Kai did, a gasp escaping her throat as she prepared to throw her spear straight through the snake’s throat, morals be damned-

But then she was yanked back by Cole, one of his hands grabbing her spear and the other going around her waist.

“Don’t,” he hissed in her ear. “She’ll kill him if we try to help!”

Nya struggled, but already her fury was fading into a cold sort of horror at what she was seeing. The snake’s eyes had changed, from the golden-red they’d been when she’d taken Kai’s powers, to red swirls. Kai’s own eyes were wide, the dark brown slowly overtaken by the snake’s hypnotism, expression slightly slack as his struggling became futile. Aspheera was gripping his chin hard to keep him in place, bruises already forming around his neck and jaw, and small trails of blood where her nails cut into his skin.

And then Kai collapsed. Aspheera drew back with a satisfied smirk, and for a couple of seconds all the ninja just watched as Kai, for the third time, stumbled to his feet. His movements were slow and sluggish this time, as if he were waking up from a nap.

When he raised his head, all of them gasped, despite the fact that all of them knew it was coming. Kai’s eyes had turned a dull shade of red, and they were fixed on nothing, devoid of emotion.

Before any of them could stop them, Nya ran forward, the snake making no attempt to stop her as she grabbed Kai by the shoulders.

“Kai,” she said, glaring into his eyes. “Listen to me. Focus on my voice.”

“You’re wasting your time, human,” the snake said, voice infuriatingly smug. “I have spent years down here with nothing to do but practice. He’s under my control now.”

“No!” Nya yelled, turning to face her with tears in her eyes. “Kai’s my brother! I know him! He will break through your control!”

“Well then,” the snake said, eyes narrowing on her. “I suppose we might want to put him through a test. Servant,” she commanded, eyes fixed on Kai, who snapped to attention. “Kill the girl.”

Nya didn’t even have a chance to react before Kai had drawn his sword and swung it at her, barely missing as she jumped back. The snake chuckled as Kai continued his wild attacks, either missing her by inches or drawing small cuts all over her.

“Kai!” she yelled, ducking a blow that, if it had connected, would have taken her head clean off. “You’ve gotta fight her!”

He didn’t even respond, red eyes now narrowed in hatred. Before he had time to attack again, a green sphere hit him in the side, sending him crashing into the wall with a truly ugly yell of pain. Lloyd shot forward, energy sparkling at his fingertips.

“Kai,” he said, enunciating his voice clearly as he helped Nya to her feet. “Listen to me. You don’t want to hurt us.”

Kai let out a scream which sounded half feral as he shot at them again, using Spinjitzu to cross the gap easily. He promptly collided with Cole’s own tornado, which fueled by Cole's elemental powers, quickly overwhelmed him. His arm hit the ground first, and Nya flinched at the sound of it breaking.

“Kai!” Lloyd yelled as their hypnotized brother forced himself to his feet again, seemingly uncaring of the small sliver of white bone poking out of his skin. “You have to stop! We’re your family!”

For a split second, Nya thought she saw him hesitate. Thought she saw red eyes flit back to brown.

And then he threw his sword at her. She wasn’t able to dodge it properly in time, and it made a truly ugly gash along her side, blood oozing through her gi and down her leg.

She vaguely heard Jay scream, and then Kai’s own yell of pain as blue light flooded her senses. Strong hands were lifting her up, a voice talking in her ear. Then she let out a vague noise of pain as there was pressure pressed against her wound.

“No, no, no,” Nya heard Lloyd say. “Come on. Not you-I can’t-”

Nya groaned, forcing herself to focus through the pain. “It’s okay,” she said. “I think I can-”

They were cut off by another feral scream, and then both of them were forced to the ground as Lloyd was tackled. Nya didn’t even have time to yell for help before there was abrupt pressure on her throat. Kai was strangling her.

“Kai,” she managed to rasp out, lungs struggling to draw breath. “It’s me-it’s your little sister-”

The pressure increased, and Nya struggled desperately as her ability to breathe vanished. Through her slowly darkening vision she could see Kai crouched on top of her, both hands around her throat and red eyes hateful.

She didn’t even hear Aspheera telling Kai to stop, and she barely felt the snake using her powers to chain Nya and the others to a wall. When her vision finally cleared, she saw Kai struggling to climb the wall, broken arm barely noticed as he tried to get to her. To kill her.

“Well then,” Aspheera said, and Nya’s gaze drifted to her where she lingered at the entrance to the tomb. “I think that shows which one of us he will listen to. Not his family, not his beloved green ninja or little sister. Just me.”

Nya’s heart ached as Kai let out a pained whine underneath her, the hypnotism forcing him to continue climbing the wall despite how much it was damaging him. He hadn’t even made any progress, still angrily pacing on the floor, red eyes glaring up at her.

“Come, servant,” the snake said, slithering closer and caressing Kai’s cheek with her tail. Nya fought against her chains when she saw her brother lean into the touch, a small smile on his face. “We have many things to do together. We can forget them for now.”

“You bastard,” Cole said, eyes flicking between Nya’s wound, the snake, and then Kai. “How are you making him do that? Hypnotism isn't normally that strong!”

“Like it matters,” Aspheera said, lips curled upwards into what would have been a smile if it wasn’t so malicious. She ran a hand through Kai’s hair, and Nya watched helplessly as her older brother leaned into the touch like a pet.

"Kai," she tried again, relieved when his eyes turned to her. "Look at me. Look at my face. Do you recognize me?"

Slowly, he nodded, the movement so slow and tiny she almost missed it.

"Then who am I?"

Kai's mouth opened, then closed again. He looked unsure of himself all of a sudden, glancing away from both her and the snake, shuffling his feet almost nervously. "You're… you're my…"

Then Nya's heart dropped as Aspheera spoke next. "Go on, servant," she said, tail slowly forcing Kai's chin to face her, the rest of her tail slowly trapping Kai in place. "Tell me who she is."

Kai shook. "She's a person I have to kill."

Nya thrashed in her binds as Aspheera laughed, control over Kai once again secure.

"You tried," the snake said in an almost sympathetic tone. "But I have centuries of practice. You never stood a chance against my control, and neither did he."

"You-you fucking witch!" Nya screamed. "Let go of him, let go of my brother-"

"Quiet, girl," the snake said, spear pressed against Kai's throat, who didn't even react this time even as it drew blood. "I can always kill him and take another from your group."

She fell silent, glaring at Aspheera's back as she slowly left the chamber, taking Kai with her. At first she thought that the snake was just going to leave, but then her magic activated, and the chamber entrance was covered by the very doors that had held her captive.

Just before the door closed, Nya thought she saw Kai turn to look at her.

And then he was gone.

EDIT: Got so engrossed in the story I forgot to eat during my break. 10/10, you're fault I'm shaking. -Ivy

#blursed ninjago submissions #blursed ninjago ideas #ninjago #submission #reverse prompt time #blursed ninjago snippets #lego ninjago

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bluepenguinstories · 3 years

Text

Remoras Full Chapter XXXI: Treant

There wasn’t much interesting about me. Not really. That wasn’t me being self-deprecating or anything. If anything, I quite liked being in the background. Others around me have always been more interesting, and I was happy enough just to help those others out.

That’s why I worked from childhood through my adulthood in order to become a doctor. It wasn’t like a total dream of mine, and I wasn’t sure if I’d call myself “passionate” (one of my top qualities, I think, is that I’ve been called a dispassionate person. But I shouldn’t humblebrag), but when I was in grade school and saw one of my classmates get injured, I couldn’t help but be compelled to want to help them. Then there were times, like when my sister or my mom would get sick and I’d be like “gee, I wonder what would help them get better.”

Skip past many years of boring details, and the rest is history. Got my own apartment after completing my internship at one of the nearby hospitals. When my sister helped me move in, we found a time travel device in the closet that I mistook for a Nintendo 64. It’s not as interesting of a detail as it seems. Anyway, that aside, there was still work to be had just about every day.

Skip ahead a few more years after that…

...And there was still work to be had.

It was about that time in the morning when it wasn’t yet bright and early and the coffee I poured tasted like sludge. When the showers were scalding and suffocating fumes filled the bathroom, yet when I turned off the shower, I shivered like a nudist at the north pole.

Towel was too small. Quick shimmy and I groaned and threw it in the laundry basket. No one else was around to see me naked, so whatever. Even if there was, my bedroom door was closed. On the bed were my work clothes, which in my groggy state, I tried to fit the shirt on my legs and the pants on my head. After a few tries and tired moans and groans, I got it right. Still, my tie was a little loose.

I’ll fix it on my way there. Or I won’t and I’ll just say I’m setting a new fashion trend.

I glanced down at my limited edition Kamen Rider Black wristwatch and my blood pressure spiked upon noticing the time.

“Fuck,” I cursed, though in my hoarse tiredness, it sounded more like a donkey braying.

Yes, it was ‘fucktime’, that universal concept of that time of day where one looks at the time and exclaims “fuck!” There were many reasons for cursing at a time of day, and it didn’t have to be any time in particular, but the most common reason was due to the situation I was in: I was running late for work.

In a state of fight or flight (which I am always in flight since I could use the exercise), I put a couple of bagel slices into the toaster, wished that my toaster had a turbo speed button, and paced about until those two slices popped up; they weren’t crispy enough, but they’d have to do. Like the skilled painter that I wasn’t, I swiped across the two halves of the bagel with a messy gloop of cream cheese.

No more time left.

I ran out the door, or whatever constituted as a run in my mind, with the bagel halves held tight in my mouth.

This ridiculous display persisted for about...oh, to hell with it, let’s just skip all the embarrassment. Fast forward to when I got to the hospital, drenched in sweat and cream cheese on the cuff of my shirt.

“Ran late again?” The receptionist, I think her name was Wormwood, looked up from her computer. Her thick brown hair was in a bun and she didn’t just have bags under her eyes, but bags under those bags. That’s okay, I’ve had those days as well. From the reflection of her glasses, it looked like she was playing an intense game of Tetris.

“A doctor is never early nor late,” I huffed, trying to sound more self-assured than my short breath would allow.

“Yeah, you wish. Go change your shirt. You’ve got a patient waiting for you in room 413,” she clucked. Was clucked the right descriptor? Well, it was a vague chicken-like tone, so cluck was good enough.

“Why’s it always patients with me?” I joked. She didn’t so much as give a half-hearted chuckle. She could have at least said, “A for effort,” but I guess everyone was a critic. I hurried over to the hospital’s resident dry cleaner, who always had a spare pair of uniforms, scrubs, nice shirts, you name it. Our dry cleaner guy was a typical average dude with stringy red hair, named Marion or something. He always had that strung out look about him that gave the impression that he was pretty trustworthy. I showed him the cream cheese on my shirt and he made an OK sign with both hands, closed his eyes, and shook his head.

“Say no more,” he assured me in the most endearing bored-out-of-your-mind voice imaginable.

As I waited for him to grab me a spare shirt, I looked up and saw a couple of green scrubs hanging around.

“I can’t do this on my own. I’m no superman,” I hummed the tune. Marion (that might not have been his name, but it was pretty damn close to what I imagine his name was) turned and asked, “what?”

“You know, Scrubs? It’s a reference.”

“Oh, man, I don’t know the first thing about references,” he bemoaned in both a disinterested tone and a disoriented one.

Man, nobody appreciates a good reference these days.

After I received my change of shirt, I went into the nearest bathroom and speedran the Trent Dress Up game. Not to brag, but I might have set a new record that day. Okay. Moving on.

Up four flights of stairs I lumbered up, each foot dragged behind the other. Yes, I could have used the elevator, but then that wouldn’t have been very doctor-like of me, would it? I mean, plenty of doctors took the elevator, and there was nothing wrong with that, but I always tried to do healthy things. It didn’t really matter much, I mean, I was already healthy, I was just a little chubby, was all. So what? I was a big ol’ teddy bear in a lab coat. At least I rocked the look.

Twelve rooms down. Then the thirteenth: that was where I heard the assistant.

“Dr. Bark will see you now,” the assistant informed the patient. After she left, which I didn’t really get a good look at, but I’ve probably worked with her before, I opened the door and greeted the patient.

“Woof, woof!” I made my best dog voice, which probably sounded closer to a howler monkey than a dog.

My patient just looked at me, not amused in the slightest. He was an elderly man who looked like a bad caricature of an elderly man. Not one of the kind ones, either. No, more like the grumpy kind who would yell at you if you so much as lived in the general vicinity of the same neighborhood he lived in. Then again, I knew looks could be deceiving and if anything, his face was probably contorted in pain.

“Okay, so I’m not that clown doctor, but if you honk my nose, I will still make a sound,” I gave a nervous laugh as I said. He just continued to stare at me.

It turned out that he had a small seizure just as I entered the room. Lovely timing, really.

Before I could take a break and have some lunch, there were a few more fun moments, gross moments, sad moments, silly moments, the whole gamut. Really, I loved my job because there were many opportunities to treat others and get them to better health. But also I hated my job because it was a job and I hated being the bearer of big bills due to the malicious concept of private insurance.

My sister-in-law was always going on about how I should be more ambitious. How I could try to start my own clinic and treat people for free, out of the kindness of my heart. Which I loved, that really was a dream if I ever had one. But there was the matter of means. Equipment costs money, I’d need more space, I’d have to get all those good prescription drugs that all the cool cats liked. I wasn’t even sure if I could do it, legally.

But hey, if it were possible, I’d do it. For sure. Maybe.

Once I made it to the hospital’s cafeteria, I grabbed a lobster salad with a garlic roll and a pink lady apple for an extra layer of irony. It was ironic because no matter how many times I ate one of those, I could never keep myself away from the hospital. Shame, too. The busier I was, the less time I had to play Monster Hunter.

Anyway, as I looked for a place to sit, I hummed a tune I heard over the radio.

“Don’t call my name, don’t call my name, Alejandro. Fernando,” I hummed. Or rather, mumbled. Because I knew for a fact that I said those words out loud, whether or not I should have saved myself the embarrassment.

“Yes?” Crooned the seductive and husky toned voice of a man I didn’t recognize. I looked around, then noticed that the owner of such a voice was seated all by his lonesome at a table in the middle of the cafeteria.

Oh good, finally a table that’s not crowded.

I made the no-brainer decision to sit across from him at the table. His head sported a vast field of curly black hair as well as the stubble-laden remnants of a rugged black mustache. He reminded me of the guy from that Just Cause series of games, though not sure why, as I’ve never played them, though I had to admit, grappling hooks were pretty cool.

“Did you say something?” I stared into his inviting rosemary colored eyes. Mostly because I felt it rude if I didn’t. Imagine if someone did that to me, just looked away when they spoke to me. Actually, that’s probably happened many times.

“You said my name,” he replied, more plain this time, without as much of a soothing effect, but no less friendly.

“Oh? Alejandro?” I blinked, unaware that I had said anyone’s name.

“No, Fernando, but you may call me Fern. Everyone does,” he smiled as he told me, a smile as soothing as his voice could be.

“Well, I certainly wanna do what everyone else is doing,” I chuckled. “I’m Trent, by the way.”

He gave a slow nod.

“What a beautiful name. Do you know who does the song that you were singing?”

Oh god, if ever there was a time to be embarrassed.

“I just heard the song on the radio! I don’t know anything about it, I just thought it was kinda catchy.”

“I’ll give you a hint: it starts with ‘Lady’.”

Fuck. I was bad at guessing games.

“Lady and the Tramp?”

“No.”

“Lady Marmaduke?”

“No. You have three more guesses.”

Wait. He never said I had a limit of five. Now I was really feeling the pressure.

“Lady Groudon?”

“Close.”

Oh! Now I knew what it was!

“Lady Goomy!”

“...No, not quite. But really close.”

Damn. I only had one guess left, too. The heat was really on now.

“Lady Gloop?”

He bit his lip trying to hold back laughter, but couldn’t, and it all came flooding out.

“Um, did I win?” I wasn’t sure what to make of that laughter, but I had to know. I just HAD to know.

After he settled down, he shook his head and with an aching calm assured me:

“It’s not important.”

“Well, what is important, then?” I grimaced, the answer not given to me.

“The lives of our patients are what’s important.”

Yeah, that seemed a little obvious, though, considering our professions and all. Actually, I wasn’t quite sure whether he was a doctor or not. I didn’t recall ever working with him.

“What do you do here, by the way?” I couldn’t help but ask.

“I’m a nurse, mi amor.”

Once he said that, everything clicked into place.

“No wonder you’ve got that gentle voice,” I observed.

“I don’t have to be gentle if you don’t want me to be.”

“No, no,” I shook my head. “For the sake of the patients, I think you ought to be.”

We went back and forth after that, chatting about this and that, though nothing really important. Really, it was nice, I didn’t usually chat with anyone. Afterward, however, it was back to the grind. Oh joy.

Once said day one was done, I flopped on home and collapsed on my sofa. Next to me was a controller, and I had bought my copy of Final Fantasy XVI the other day, but haven’t had a chance to play it.

“My body...too feeble…” I wheezed out the words as my hands shook trying to reach for the controller. Just as it seemed like the controller was within my grasp, my phone rang.

When there was something in closer proximity than the item that I really wanted, the natural urge was to reach for the one in closer proximity instead.

“Hey Trent. It’s me,” came the sudden and to the point tone of my sister-in-law: Vesuvius.

“Oh, hey. What’s up?” I snapped to my senses and sat right up. “Is everything okay? Nothing too serious, I hope.”

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I’ve got a nice little apartment with my beautiful wife. I just haven’t spoken to you in a while and wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Oh, what a relief. I was worried you were having another mental health episode.”

“Hey! I don’t go around pointing out the time you had food poisoning, do I?” She scolded. Yeah, okay. That was fair.

She didn’t have many mental health episodes, but ever since that incident with her and Juniper’s stalkers, she had been more sensitive and more on edge. That said, I really was happy for her and that she was at peace.

“You’re right. God, that was a rough time. Who knew blueberries could be so poisonous?”

“All things in nature can,” she stated. Gee, if anyone knew that, it would’ve been her.

“How are all things with settling into the apartment?” I asked. She hadn’t been there long, but it was a bold step for her, considering her social anxiety, which she tried to act like she didn’t have.

“You know, it’s an adjustment. It gets lonely when Juniper isn’t home. I’m not used to her having anything resembling a job. I hate to sound possessive, but I don’t like that she has one. I wish we didn’t have to make money to live.”

“Be as possessive as you want,” I chuckled. “Er...within reason. Say, have you saved up for anything?”

“No. Why?”

“Well, you always go on about wanting to do that whole ‘cottagecore’ lifestyle thing. So maybe you could save for that and go for it?”

She drew a deep breath, as if she were about to blow a gust of wind out of every orifice.

“First off, I don’t know what a ‘cottagecore’ is, but I’m cautious around anything with the suffix of -core. You know I’m a delicate flower.”

“And a poisonous one,” I pointed out.

“Yes, well, poisonous flowers can be delicate. And hey! Be nice to me!”

I coughed up a chuckle.

“Okay, well, second off,” she continued. “What I want is to live off the land, in a field of flowers. Growing my own field. Having peace and quiet in the middle of nowhere.”

“Yeah, that’s cottagecore.”

“Don’t say words I don’t understand to me!” She scolded. “It’s really demeaning.”

“Okay, okay,” I tried to settle down with the teasing. “But for real, it’s not like it’s impossible. Juniper could build a house, she likes making things.” Then again, she probably wouldn’t build a house very well, but I’m sure she’d enjoy the attempt. “It may take a bit of money for the resources, but it’s not like it’s impossible.”

“Yeah, well, first thing’s first is I want to see a therapist. Like, an actual therapist.”

“Oh, that could be good for you.”

“Yeah…” Her voice trailed, and the tone of her voice shifted to a more mournful one. “I still remember how I was during that time. I have trouble believing that it’s really over. All of that pain lingers with me. It’s not something I wish to remember, but it’s something I’m unable to forget.”

“Don’t beat yourself up too bad,” I tried to reassure her. I assumed she was referring to the whole stalker incident that occurred at the same time she dealt with her mental health episode. “Everyone has a breaking point. There’s nothing to be ashamed of there.”

“No, but there is. I was confused. Desperate. I hurt the most important person in my life. I hurt someone else that I could have helped. That I could have saved. If I had just known how. If my mind was more clear back then,” her voice shifted into a growl. “I hate it. I hate inflicting pain. Especially because it’s not who I want to be. No who I am anymore,” her voice then grew sharper. Harsher. “Yet I can’t help but feel like it’s still with me, buried somewhere, and I just want to punch a wall, rip my hair out, something! Something to cut this off from me!”

“Hey, hey,” I could tell she was working herself up. “You and Juniper are both sensitive people. Sometimes people lash out when their emotions are heightened. It doesn’t mean you’re bad or anything, but you can work on it. For what it’s worth, I do think you two are good together.”

“Thank you,” her voice quieted back to the mournful tone it was at first and I could hear sniffling and weeping in the background. “I’m sorry. I told myself I would keep composed and yet I went off into that rant. Gee, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re a better therapist than the one I pretended to be.”

“Heh. It’s nothing. You’ve definitely been through a lot. Get yourself some tea or something, that might help.”

“Thanks,” she sniffled again. “What about you? Is there anything new with you?”

“Eh. Same ol’ boring stuff at the hospital. People get sick and die, some people get better.”

“To which?” She let out a weak chuckle.

“Oh, definitely the sick part. I’ve yet to someone get better from being dead, but anything can happen. Fingers crossed, right?”

“Heh…so there’s nothing new at all? What about at the house? I bet you’re glad to have Juniper and I out of your hair.”

“Eh. You guys weren’t that bad to deal with.”

“That’s a relief. Do you miss us?”

“Hmm...a bit. It’s a bit quiet now, but I like it. Means I can play video games in peace and walk around the apartment in my underwear.”

“Indeed, that is a positive. Though I didn’t need to hear the last part.”

I tried to think about anything of substance I could actually talk about.

“Oh! I met someone new at the hospital today! This nurse named Fern. He’s got these beautiful murky green eyes and maze-like curly dark hair. Oh, and his mustache. I bet I’d be ticklish if it rubbed against me,” I announced with a sense of excitement at the prospect of actually having something to say.

“Are you attracted to this Fern person?” She inquired.

While I didn’t quite know where she got that idea from, I wasn’t going to say that he was ugly or anything like that.

“I’m certainly not repelled by him,” I joked. Heh. Magnets. “Why do you ask?”

“Just curious, since you described him in such exquisite detail.”

“Eh. Isn’t it normal to describe people you talk about?”

“Not in my experience. Not like that, anyway. But hey, what do I know?”

“Yeah, well, I just met him today, so I doubt I’ll describe him every time I talk about him. He seems nice, in any case. Hey, maybe the four of us could play D&D together sometime?” I perked up at the prospect of having someone else to play D&D with. That was the most important thing about meeting someone. If not D&D, maybe I could gush about 80s Sci-Fi movies or J-RPGs.

“I don’t know...that game always brings out the worst in me...I try to be a healer but whenever I encounter a monster I just want to grind them into dust and then I curse the fact that I didn’t pick a class like barbarian.”

“Heh. That is a problem. You could always just be a barbarian.”

“No. I don’t want to,” I could tell she stuck her nose up just by her tone of voice alone.

“In any case, we gotta get this going on! We never seem to finish a campaign!” I was SO pumped to get this thing going on.

“That’s because I always either quit out of frustration or you end up too busy and we decide to start over from a new campaign as soon as you have free time again,” she pointed out. At least she was honest.

“We’ll figure something out, I’m sure!”

“Mm...well, it was nice talking with you, Trent. I’m glad you seem to be doing well, and good luck with this Fern person.”

“Thanks! You take care too! Bye!”

We hung up and I spent the rest of the day being an exhausted nerdy Trenty bear who somehow did nothing yet time still passed.

As the days went by, I’d spend lunch having conversations with Fern and he said I could talk about whatever I was passionate about, so OF COURSE a bunch of nerdy shit came up.

“About halfway through the game, she dies, but you can get her final limit break later on. This is a way to show that she’s still with the party in spirit and the party keeps it as a memento, even though they know they cannot use it, OR they refuse to use it to honor her memory.”

“I see. And it’s not just the developers making a mistake?” Fern pondered. The gall.

“No way. Game developers wouldn’t just do that. In fact, you can hack the game to make it so Aerith lives, by coming back after she dies, but she’ll say at a certain point, ‘I’m not supposed to be here’. That’s because the developers knew that players would try to bring her back, so they were prepared.”

“Wow. That really is haunting,” he looked moved by my explanation. As he should be.

“The game devs were also brilliant for making her and Cloud be besties instead of a romantic interest. There’s a part where Cloud and Aerith go on a date on a ferris wheel and right before they go on the ferris wheel, Aerith turns to cloud and goes ‘wa...wassup homie?’ and Cloud says, ‘golly gee’ in response. By having them be besties, it shows the importance of friendships over romantic relationships. It’s actually shown in a prequel that Cloud had a boyfriend named Zack, but despite it being canon, many fans prefer to act like the game doesn’t exist.”

“That’s a wonderful message for them to show,” he nodded along.

“Yeah. So anyway, Zack dies in the prequel.”

“Damn. This Cloud guy just can’t catch a break.”

Before I was able to continue the conversation further, I received a beep on my pager.

“...And neither can I. I gotta split.”

That was how our typical conversations went. I did most of the talking while he stared and smiled the whole way through. Most of the time, I didn’t mind that, but it also meant that I didn’t know much about him. He hardly seemed like the mysterious type, and I should’ve known the mysterious type due to the people I’ve let in my apartment in the past.

So the next chance we got I decided I’d hold nothing back. We both sat together, once again with our lunches in front of us, and I popped the question:

“Do you have any siblings?” I was casual as I asked him, plain as day with an egg and lettuce sandwich in my hands. He tilted his head and rested it on his palm, looking even more radiant than usual.

“Why yes. I have four sisters. Two of them are engaged. One of them’s married. The fourth one is still looking for love.”

“Oh wow,” I replied. “You know, you could tell her that she doesn’t have to find love. It’s not the be-all and end-all, after all.”

“I think she already knows that. Still, she wouldn’t mind the experience. What about you, Trent?” He spoke my name with such a delicacy that it made my heart tackle the walls of my chest.

“Uh, yeah,” I stammered. “I’ve got a sister. I don’t even know why you mentioned relationships since I just asked about siblings, but she’s in one. I mean, she’s married, so I guess I’ve also got a sister-in-law. If that counts as another sibling, then I’ve got two sisters, maybe?”

He coughed up a chuckle against his fist.

“Love is a beautiful thing, isn’t it?”

I shrugged.

“Yeah, I guess it can be.”

For some reason that simple exchange reminded me of an early memory when Juniper and I were kids and we shared a room, bunk beds, in fact.

She hung upside down from the edge of the top bunk of the bed. I always did tell her to be careful, but she never was good at listening to me.

“Hey bro, bro, bruh, bruv,” she pestered me.

“What is it?” I looked up from the book I was reading.

She held down a magazine with pictures of women in hiking gear.

“Look! Aren’t those girls cute? Aren’t they your type?” She pressed it up to my face. Or as well up to my face as she could. Her aim wasn’t the best when she hung upside down. Nevertheless, I took a glance. Of course, as I was more interested in the book I was reading, I didn’t really pay attention.

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

Not satisfied, she grew in intensity.

“Come on! You didn’t look!”

“Yeah I did!” I shot back. “I’m just more interested in this book right now! You have no idea how cool the Shannara novels are!” Oh, but I wasn’t done. “Also, I’m pretty sure those are your type, not mine!”

She stuck her tongue out.

“What even is your type?” She teased.

I shrugged. Really, I didn’t know then, and even into my 30s, as a doctor, I had no idea if I even had a type. For anyone. After a pause, she then asked.

“Do you think you’d ever have a crush on anyone?”

I gave it some thought. Then, as if it was a no brainer, it clicked.

“If someone was actually interested in me, sure! But c’mon, I’m a nerd. You know how hard it is for people like me.”

She scowled at that.

“That’s just a myth. That shouldn’t stop you.”

She was right. Both back then, and in the present, if she were to tell me that again. But over the years, I grew to have a different excuse.

“Would you ever be open to the idea of love?” Fern’s question brought me out of the memory, back to the moment that I shared with him.

I shrugged.

“Sure, I wouldn’t mind. If the opportunity were to occur. But then, I’m always too busy to think about things like that, so it’s never really crossed my mind. I’m sure you can relate, seeing as you’re probably about as busy as I am.”

“Indeed,” he agreed. “But it has its advantages.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“Like how we can spend the same amount of time together.”

Oh yeah. That was a really good point.

“Heh. It is nice to have someone to chat with,” I agreed.

It was a surprise how little time had passed, but I was glad for it. Considering how unpredictable this job could be, I had to be thankful for any precious minutes I got.

“Let’s not worry about that. If we run out of time, we can pick it up another day. So what do you say?”

“So tell me, how did your sister meet her lover?” His curiosity took me by surprise. Not something I thought would be worth asking, but who was I to say what someone did and didn’t find interesting?

All right. So I told him. It seemed he just had that kind of effect on me.

Maybe it was a little cliché, I don’t know, because I don’t know what constitutes as cliché, but it was a rainy evening. I had just gotten off work, I had my umbrella, but it seemed to do me little good as there was a mighty gust of wind and the rain just slid down the umbrella and managed to force itself onto my jacket.

On the way home, I took a shortcut through a side street. I guess it was like an alleyway, but more open. I don’t know, side street sounds appropriate. Curled up underneath the cover of a building’s awning was a homeless woman, a single orange striped blanket over her, damp. Her hair seemed covered in dirt, she shivered, but made no attempt to voice her discomfort. I couldn’t quite make out her face, but maybe it was pity that brought me to pay attention to her in the first place.

Yeah, typical “boy meets girl” story, huh?

At last, she looked up and croaked. Despite facing me, her face seemed to droop low and she looked downtrodden.

“You got money?”

I jumped. Startled. Yeah, not too dignified, but I really just didn’t expect for her to notice me. Once I composed myself, I dug through my jacket pocket and pulled out a twenty dollar bill.

“Here, it’s not much, but it’s what I got on me.”

“Thanks,” she replied and took it. No more than that. Of course, if that was the extent of the exchange, there wouldn’t really be anything to tell, now would there?

“Hey, I know it’s late, but there’s a cafe close by we can visit if you want a coffee or something. They’re not open forever, but it’ll keep you dry for a little while,” I offered.

She looked up again, scowled.

“I don’t trust strangers,” she stated.

“Oh, yeah, definitely. I’m a stranger, you’re a stranger. I get that,” I chuckled. “I just figured I’d offer, but you can decline. If you’re worried about me being someone dangerous, you can punch me. I’m not really interested in being cruel or violent or anything like that.”

She squinted. I would later find out that was less because of how ridiculous she may have thought me and more because she had poor eyesight.

“Are you that desperate that you would ask a homeless person out on a date?” Her biting remark might have gotten under the skin of just about anyone else, but I’ve probably heard much worse from some of my patients. Instead, I laughed.

“You don’t have to think of it as a date. I don’t. I’m not really the dating type, anyway. It’s just a spur of the moment thing.”

She shifted eyes, turned her head from left to right, then looked back up on me.

“I can’t believe I’m going to agree to this…but sure,” she heaved out the words.

“Cool,” I stuck my thumb out, then continued, “it’s just a couple of blocks away. I really like the place, since I sometimes don’t get off work until real late and it’s open past midnight.”

“I don’t care...when it’s open...but I could use something warm...to drink,” she sounded lightheaded, in a daze.

Once we made our way through the door of the dim lit cafe with neon lighting, she wiped her shoes on the mat.

Oh. What good manners, I thought. As someone who often forgot to wipe their shoes when entering places, it was a nice reminder to see someone else do so. At least I remembered to put my umbrella down, but that kinda went without saying.

As soon as I approached the counter, I turned to her, still drenched.

“Don’t worry about the cost. Order whatever you like,” I assured her. After I said those words, she looked up, squinted, then closed her eyes.

“I would like a lavender mocha latte, but no dairy. Almond milk if you have it. Coconut would be even better. Give four extra shots of espresso, and if you have dark chocolate syrup, use that.”

Damn. It was like she had the whole thing recited and ready to go. All right.

“I’ll just take a black coffee,” I shrugged. I didn’t need all the sugar or any of that extra stuff.

“Oh. I should have went with that too,” she looked down, possibly embarrassed at her order.

I laughed.

“Don’t worry, I said you could order whatever. My treat.”

She made her way to the table nearest to the window, and took the seat closest to the window as well. As soon as she sat down, she lowered her head onto the table and her arms outstretched to cover her head. Behind her, raindrops slid down the window. It wasn’t much an interesting sight, but I wasn’t a very observant person, so I felt I ought to have taken note of something.

“Just so you know, you should probably forget about me after this,” she uttered and despite her words being muffled, I could still make her words out clear as a river.

“If you want,” I shrugged.

“I’m serious. You shouldn’t associate with me. There’s people after me. I’d rather not get anyone involved.”

I pondered if there was any validity to that. Maybe she ran from an ex, or there was some trafficking ring. That last bit was a little dark. As a middle ground, I thought that maybe she had run off from home as a kid (surprisingly, that part was sort of true, in a sense).

“You probably think I’m crazy. Paranoid, even. I get it. Some homeless woman tells you there’s people after her. You don’t have to believe me. Just so you know, I’m homeless by choice. It’s easier this way. You don’t have to believe that, either.”

“Well, if you’re on the run, maybe it’s not by choice?” I suggested.

She looked up, her face still semi-buried in her arms. Still, I could make out eyes through her bangs. Grayish-purple bags under her eyes, but eyes nonetheless.

“Yeah. You’re probably right. It’s been so long, it’s hard to tell anymore. My head won’t cooperate,” she seemed to agree with my assessment, and as if to confirm as much, she lifted her head up and rubbed her forehead with her palm. With one eye visible, she glared at me.

“Just so you know, even if you considered this a date, I wouldn’t be interested. I’m…” she looked around, then stated, “men don’t interest me.”

I chuckled.

“It’s okay. My sister’s a lesbian. You don’t really have to beat around the bush about it.”

Her eyes widened, then squinted again.

“I don’t know why you would tell me that. I’m not interested. My main focus is my survival, it’s just…” She began to glance to her side and down at the floor. “I’ve been running and hiding so long, I’m growing tired. Sooner or later, I might just give up. It’s a terrible thought, but I don’t think I can go on.”

My concern began to grow, even if I didn’t know the scope of her problem.

“I don’t really know what it is you’re dealing with, but you don’t have to deal with it alone.”

“No. I refuse to endanger anyone else,” she seemed adamant about that.

Maybe she was justified, but in a selfish way, that also made me want to help more.

“You can refuse if you want, but the weather forecast says it’s going to be raining over the next few days. I’ve got a spare room in my apartment you can stay in. If nothing else, it’ll keep you dry.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” she looked away once more.

“You wouldn’t be. I’m the one that offered,” I shrugged, a favorite gesture of mine.

“Well...maybe my head is just messed up enough right now, but...fine. As long as I reserve the right to leave at any time.”

“Of course,” I assured her, and I even lifted a feeble smile. Once our coffee was brought over, mine a regular paper coffee cup, hers a ceramic cup filled to the top, we drank in silence. Between intervals of me sipping the bitter bean, I peeked over and noticed how she held onto her cup with a sort of elegance; one hand on the handle, the other grasping the base of the cup, and slow sips taken, not a single slurp to be heard. It was probably a little weird of me to pick up on something like that, I admit.

“I’m Trent, by the way,” I told her out of courtesy. Depending on how long she’d stay, I felt it wise to tell her my name.

“Et...err...Vesuvius. You can call me Vesuvius. Or Ves. I don’t care which,” her eyes shifted and she stammered out the words.

After we finished our coffee, we headed out, umbrella up and ready to go. There wasn’t a long walk ahead of us, and she was silent the whole way through. Not that I tried to make small talk anyway, since the rain was kind of gloomy weather for conversation. She walked with a slump, something I should have warned her to be cautious about, lest she get a hunchback. Maybe she did so because she felt she was too tall to fit under the umbrella, or maybe she had been under such duress for so long that standing up straight no longer registered to her.

Before long, we made our way inside and I showed her to where the spare room was. She didn’t speak a word, not so much as a nod, just went inside. Before I closed the door, I told her, “if you need anything, just let me know. I’ll be down the hall and to your left.”

Still, no acknowledgment. That was fine. Just as long as she heard me. For whatever reason, it didn’t register until after I closed the door that I didn’t have anything like an air mattress or a futon for her to sleep on. That room was bare, empty. Not a single item to be found.

Despite that, I was too tired to do anything rational like look for some spare blankets or pillows, and decided it was high time for me to get some rest. At the very least, I turned the heater on and let it run. It wasn’t something I liked to do, and I didn’t think Juniper would be all that comfortable with it on, but screw it, I was the one who paid the bills.

“Well, time for me to get some shut eye,” I announced, thinking there was no one around who could hear me. However, I soon noticed from the corner of my eye a foam basketball being tossed up into the air.

“Who’s the babe?” Juniper, asked in a rather dull voice. I soon turned and saw her laying on the couch, flat on her back.

“Don’t be disrespectful,” I scolded. “I found her on the street. She’s just going to stay over for a few nights.”

“So now you’re picking up homeless chicks?”

Really, maybe she was just moody ‘cause she was tired, or maybe she just felt like giving me a hard time that night in particular.

“I just felt like doing a good deed, there’s nothing behind it,” I corrected her. Again.

“That’s rather nice of you. Just make sure not to overexert yourself. Your health is important too,” she reminded.

“Thanks.”

I thought I could just go to bed, but then a smile which signified mischief spread across her face.

“So, tell me about the babe,” she wouldn’t drop it so soon.

“Oh, come on,” I groaned.

“C’mon, the babe.”

“No,” I folded my arms on my hips. If she could nudge me from where she was at, she would have.

“You remind me of the babe,” her cheery voice returned, coupled with a sing-song tone.

“What babe?” I finally gave in.

“The babe with the power.”

“What power?”

“Power of voodoo!”

“Who do?”

“You do!”

“Do what?”

“Remind me of the babe! Ha ha ha!” she kicked around the couch and laughed. There were certain nights where I could just tell when she watched Labyrinth that day.

“Okay, okay, don’t stay up too late,” I reminded her. “You know where your room is.”

“Yeah, yeah. ‘Night.”

Ah, Labyrinth. Classic. David Bowie and his tights. Things didn’t get much better than that.

Somehow I managed to tell him all of that with time to spare.

“You have a big heart, Trent,” he told me, which kinda made me want to sulk.

“Yeah...I do try to have a good diet, though,” I pouted.

“No, no, I mean metaphorically,” he patted the air as he spoke, a sure sign of sincerity.

“You mean…?” I stared into his earthen rosemary colored eyes.

“Yes. You are very kind.”

“Oh, phew. For a second there I was worried you meant my weight.”

“No, no. Dear. You are adorable. When I first saw you that fateful day, I said to myself, ‘this is an adorable teddy bear’. I would never have anything unkind to say to a teddy bear.”

“Well, thank you. Does that mean I’m a cuddly looking teddy bear?” I let slip my curiosity.

“I’d have to find that one out for myself. Hey, your story about your sister’s wife got me thinking. How would you like to go out for coffee after work?”

Gee, the possibility never even occurred to me, but it was so simple. Of course.

“Yeah, I don’t see why not. I’m pretty sure the place is still open.”

“And,” he leaned in a little closer. “May I consider it a date?”

I laughed a little at that.

“If you’d like to.”

“And,” a little closer still. “Would you consider it one?”

That time, my heart went “boing boing” against my chest. I didn’t know the answer to that one. It was too much being put on the spot, I was used to the attention being on other people.

“Um...not no, but maybe yes...I’m not sure…” Came my disgraceful blabbering until I managed to catch myself and re-compose. “Er...I’m not used to thinking about things for myself...but...sure. You’re a pretty cool guy. Let’s consider it a coffee date.”

So we did. Just a few nights later, after work we walked into the parking lot. He had a motorcycle, with enough of a seat for me to fit in the back. It wasn’t awkward in the slightest and in fact, it played out much the same as many of our conversations at lunch before. It all felt natural between us, like trees. He ordered an oregano tea latte and I had my usual black coffee.

As if by miracle, the sun had yet to set and there wasn’t the slightest hint of rain. We sat across from each other and immersed ourselves in the ambiance of the hums and smooth glitchtunes playing on the coffee shop’s speakers.

“So, if I were to come over to your place tonight, would I see your sister and her wife?” He posed the hypothetical question.

“Nah, they both moved out almost a year ago. They’ve got their own apartment somewhere else in the city, though they’re also saving up to move elsewhere again.”

“So soon?” He tilted his head.

“Well, it’s a dream of Ves’ to live in a field of flowers, open nature, all that stuff. Psychedelic drugs, flowers in hair, tie-dye, I could go on. Juniper’s already found a place a couple of states out, and she found an old beat up pick up truck in a ditch and decided to repair it just for fun. So now all they gotta do is assemble the wood, get some electric lining, plumbing, all that stuff. Which...I don’t have a lot of faith in my sister, she’s no architect or electrician, but she’s the type who gets insistent about doing everything herself, so it’s not like I could talk her out of it.”

“That’s great, though! They’re pursuing their passion. Isn’t that beautiful?”

I shrugged.

“I dunno if ‘beautiful’ is the word I’d use, but yeah. I suppose I’m happy for them.”

“What about you? Do you have any goals?” His eyes fluttered, almost like he wanted to lull me to sleep.

“Sorta, but it’s kinda dumb? I just don’t like the whole ‘charged ten thousand dollars as soon as you walk in and good luck getting your overpriced insurance that you can barely afford, if afford at all, to cover anything’ so I was thinking how it would be cool if I could run my own clinic. I don’t know, maybe it could be funded through donations, but in no way would people have to pay. Like, I doubt I’d be able to do the big stuff like surgeries or transplants, but it’s still something, right? Thing is, that’s kinda impossible, don’cha think?”

Rather than some kind of agreement, he reacted in a rather ferocious manner: he stood up, leaned over, and slammed his hands on the table.

“Trent,” while his voice grew in intensity, it certainly didn’t sound angry. More...motivating. “You must never be afraid of your passion.”

“Uh...okay…” I scratched my cheek. “But what about you? What are you passionate about?”

He sat back down.

“You. Of course,” he answered, so simple, so straightforward in his delivery.

“So, like, does that mean you’d want to play D&D with me sometime?”

He laughed.

“I’d love to.”

“Really? Are you sure? What if you don’t like it? I mean, I don’t even know what your hobbies are.”

“If I end up not liking it, then at least I’ll have found that out for myself. But all of your hobbies, everything that interest you, I want to immerse myself in. Because all of you...is my hobby.”

“Bro…” I leaned forward. “That’s kind of...uh...cool!”

“Oh, and I also like to ride around on my motorcycle. I like watching the sunsets, going hiking, mountain climbing, kayaking, and making ceramic cups.”

Hiking, mountain climbing, kayaking...he sure looked fit. Not to mention, those things sounded like fun, even if possibly dangerous.

“Do you think I could do those things with you?” I asked, hesitant, but I figured if he was wanting to do the things I liked, I may as well ask him in return.

“Of course. You can do whatever you want with me.”

“Then in that case, can I kiss you?” I joked, though it seemed to come out of nowhere. However much I meant it, it was out in the open now.

“Of course. Would you like to do it here, or at your apartment?”

“Err...at my apartment?”

To be honest, I’ve never kissed anyone before. Or been kissed by anyone before. That thought never even crossed my mind and I pretty much figured I’d be fine not having such a thought and continuing on with my life, but dominoes were falling or something like that.

“Let’s go, then,” he stood up and motioned for me to head toward the door. In a hurry, I chugged down my coffee.

I should probably brush my teeth first. Coffee breath probably isn’t a good taste. Then again, would he want to brush his teeth. Should we just use the same toothbrush? Or maybe he packed one with him.

When we shoved our way through the door of my apartment, those questions were erased from my mind.

“I’ve actually never kissed anyone before...I know, in my thirties and…” he put his finger on my lips and made a “shh” sound.

“Relax. I’ll take the lead,” he lowered his hand, then leaned down and spread his lips against mine. As he released, I wished that he hadn’t. But then the thought of my breath returned to the front of my mind.

“Sorry, uh, hope my breath doesn’t bother you.”

“Does it bother you?” He asked.

“Well…it’s probably good to take care of your teeth. I’m not a dentist, but I do think good health is important in all aspects of one’s health and --”

He pulled out a box of mint chews.

“Here,” he opened the box. I took a couple and popped them into my mouth. On instinct, I bit down on them and chewed, despite knowing that I wouldn’t be prepared for the icy hellfire that was the minty taste. After a couple of seconds of huffing, I looked back at him.

“Okay, I’m good now.”

“There is one more interest I have now,” he decided to pick back up from our conversation at the coffee shop for some final choice words.

“Yeah? What would that be?”

“Supporting you and your dreams.”

Then we kissed again.

So flashforward a year or so and through some sort of miracle, such a dream was realized: we converted the apartment into a clinic and moved upstairs to the apartment directly above. Both of us quit our jobs at the hospital so we could focus on the clinic. Really, I couldn’t have done it without him. Or, maybe I could have, but I’d like to think he gave me that sort of push, y’know? That little “oomf.”

There were many improvements that could have been made, and might be made as time went on, but I liked seeing the genuine attempt to help, and the look on people’s faces when they knew they wouldn’t have to worry about cost...worth it. What’s more, people donated freely, and often. We met several people around the community and even convinced some to play D&D with us. I think the biggest surprise was how much of a hit the game was with the elderly.

Oh, and also, Fern and I became boyfriends. Not really sure how that happened, but it did and I’m cool with it.

On one particular slow day, an interesting thing happened: see, it had been a while since any strange people walked through my door. After a streak of Ves, Blanc, and that weird stalker lady my sister hugged, I figured I’d see the last of any weirdness. In fact, I never even thought to tell Fern about any of the weird visitors (besides Ves, of course). But then as I was doing a solo hunt against deviljo in Monster Hunter on my PC in my office, Fern ran into my office.

“Hey Trent, dear, there’s someone outside the front door saying she’s your cousin,” he informed me. I looked up, a little perplexed.

“I have relatives?” I asked, even though it might have seemed like a pretty dumb thing to say.

Never mind the dumbness, I stopped what I was doing and rushed toward the door only to find a short lady with blonde hair who looked to be in her 20s.

“Hello, can I help you?” I asked her.

“It’s me, your cousin. Demetria?” She folded her arms and scowled.

It took a few seconds to click, and then I remembered.

“Ohhh. You were at my sister’s wedding. I think. Probably.”

“Yeah, I probably most definitely was,” she turned her head and spat on the ground.

Fern stood beside me and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

“Who might this be?” He asked.

“Fern,” I gestured to Demetria. “This is apparently my cousin, Demetria. Demetria, this is Fern, my receptionist-slash-boyfriend.”

“You make me sick,” Demetria growled in response.

“What?” I blinked, and I was quite surprised to hear such a thing. “Are you homophobic?”

“No, I’m not homophobic, I just can’t believe you’re dating someone named after a tree! You were supposed to be the chosen one! You could have broken the cycle!”

That was an odd thing to focus on, but good to know it wasn’t too serious.

“It’s short for Fernando, actually, and technically, Ferns aren’t trees,” Fern explained to her.

“All right, buster,” she pointed up. “But you’re on thin-fucking-ice!”

Then she turned to me.

“Also, grats on being gay, I guess. That’s kinda cool,” she eased up her abrasive tone.

“Well, I might be bi. I don’t know. I haven’t been interested in women before, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t be interested in any women. I think the real question we need to ask is, is it gay to be in a relationship with another man?” I suggested. Demetria just looked at Fern, who then looked at me.

“Yeah,” they both said at the same time.

“Well, in any case, what can I do for you, Demetria?” I shifted focus.

“Right. I need you to tell me where Juniper lives.”

“What for?”

“So I can go live with them. Why else?”

That was an odd thing to want to do, and I didn’t even think Juniper and Ves would agree to such a...oh, who was I kidding? Juniper was that kind of person.

“Right. Uh...I guess there’s no harm. I’ll write down their address for you. You got a way to get there?”

She shook her head.

“I make it up as I go. I got here just fine, didn’t I?”

Yeah, that was a good point.

I pulled out my notepad from my shirt pocket as well as a pen and scribbled down the address. After I handed it to her, she squinted and scowled.

“Shit. How am I supposed to read this chicken scratch?”

Right. Doctor.

“Here, I’ll just spell it out for you, so you can just type it in the notepad app on your phone or whatever you have.”

“Oh, great. More work for me to do,” she grimaced, but pulled out her phone and pressed the power button.

“Let’s see...a few missed calls from my mom. Typical. Also, a text from Ray. ‘If you ever consider coming back here, don’t. I don’t want to see you again.’ Gee, wasn’t planning on going back there, but good to see I’m not wanted. Typical...oh, here we go. Notepad.”

I didn’t really know what that bit was about, but I wasn’t about to pry. Wasn’t my business. As soon as I told her the address, she turned her phone back off and put it back in her pocket.

How are you going to know where to find the place if you don’t even look at the address?

Oh well. Juniper and Ves’ problem now.

“See ya,” she waved, then ran off. Fern and I waved too, then Fern turned to me.

“Well, she was interesting,” he remarked.

I shrugged.

“Yeah. It tends to go that way. I never really told you, but besides Ves, there’s been some strange people who showed up here a couple of times. First there was Blanc, this amnesiac who was missing an arm. Juniper decided to make a prosthetic limb for them after learning about Fullmetal Alchemist and we kinda let them live here until they just disappeared one day. Then there was this one stalker Juniper had who wanted her and I to leave town but didn’t really explain why and then Juniper hugged her and she freaked out. Not a clue what that was about, but we never saw her again, so I guess we never needed to leave town.”

“Wow, your sister had a stalker?”

I shrugged.

“Yeah, it was horrible, I guess. She seemed rather nonchalant about it, but I could tell it affected her in some ways. She was paranoid for a bit until she met this stalker in person, and then said stalker turned out to be harmless.”

“Still, I would’ve been scared too.”

“Oh yeah, and by the way, Ves is a time traveler. Yeah, you probably think I’m nuts now, but she was originally from the ‘60s and my sister and I found this time travel device that looked like a Nintendo 64 when we moved in. It apparently belonged to Ves’ father. So that time at the coffee shop when she was homeless? Yeah, apparently I met her before that actually and neither of us realized that. Of course, she was a teenager back then and only showed up to take the time travel device back but anyway…”

I realized I started rambling and the more I went on, the more ridiculous things probably seemed.

“...Anyway, you don’t have to believe me, but that was all to say that everyone else who’s ever been in this apartment has been more interesting than me. Including you. Compared to them, I’m kinda just...there.”

He shook his head and placed a firm grasp on my shoulders. He looked me in the eyes.

“No, you are very interesting. How could you not be when you’ve met all of these interesting people? Take it from me: I wouldn’t be interested in you if I didn’t find you interesting.”

“Gee,” I looked away, embarrassed. “Thanks. But also, there’s one more thing: my family has this weird tradition of naming people after trees. Yeah, I’m Trent, but I was named after Treant, this tree monster in D&D. My mom wanted to name me Ent, but apparently couldn’t because the Tolkien estate has the rights to that name.”

“See? Another interesting thing about you!”

“Ha. I’m glad I met you. My mom wasn’t exactly a nice lady, but it was cool that she was into D&D. That’s probably where I got it from. Maybe it’s genetic. Still, neither mine nor my sister’s personalities are like her, although Juniper’s probably closer, though way nicer. It’s hard to explain, but you’d just have to trust me.”

“Every time you tell me something new about yourself, I’m fascinated more and more,” he smiled wide.

We kissed once more before getting back to work. Our day hadn’t yet come to an end.

#writing #remoras full #romance #gay #trent #doctor #clinic #stories #lgbt #dnd

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calypsoff · 3 years

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Forty One. Part 3

Looking down at my lap shaking my head, she didn’t need to walk off like that. I hate that she is upset, I upset her, but she can be so frustrating, everything that was said and happened is just frustrating “if she leaves this house again I’m gonna be even more angry at her” I said, I hope she doesn’t and she better not “I don’t want you both to get married yet. I don’t want it yet, you both need time. Love is there but it’s too much happening, you know Chris I have had arguments about Ronald too with my kids, but I have learnt to let it go, you can’t protect someone that doesn’t want it, and when I said protect my daughter, I assumed that she would have listened to you, but it has caused drama instead. Please stop, let it go with Ronald, and move on. Do not let this man come between you both, I had to do the same because I couldn’t let my kids feel that way, it caused arguments for me. Ronald will be exposed; he will do it himself. But don’t let that affect you both, but I will leave you both to it, the shouting was unbearable from the both of you but please try to both make up with each other” nodding my head watching Monica get up from the couch, she is disappointed clearly, I don’t blame her at all, a lot of things were said loudly, and I got to stop getting angry so quickly, but I get frustrated at her, but I do love her. I really don’t like Robyn showing her body off either, she knows this. I think it was built up anger from her disappearing on me like that, I was so hurt to know she just left like that when she knows I hate us leaving when we argue, the shit happened to me but what does she know. Clearly Monica wants us to make it up, she knows I do love her, but this is a mess.

I finally got up from the couch, it’s like nobody is coming downstairs since we had the argument, I feel bad that people overheard us too like that, it is embarrassing for me too, I am in their house and doing this to Robyn. This is not good, and they could easily gang up on me, I don’t want to go without Robyn and I speaking on it because I am never ever doing that again, but I shouldn’t be here after that. Her brothers heard us; I am shocked they ain’t come to beat my ass. Walking up the step to leave the living room, I abruptly stopped as I saw Robyn walking to me. I assumed she was going to walk by me but she stopped “you want to go for a drive, I mean I am driving of course” nodding my head “yeah sure, I don’t know how to feel about you driving though. You good?” Robyn turned away from my “I am, trust me” she has some big ass shades on too, I hate that I have upset her like that. I can imagine that her eyes are sore from crying but I don’t like it, seeing her dressed that way out there really got to me, then her being out with no contact. It was all too much for me, so I just let loose, Robyn held the door open for me. She is quiet with me of course; I don’t expect anything more from her. I will apologise for my tone of voice, let’s see where she is taking me though “cute car” I grinned at her Suzuki car, it’s nice for her “get to enjoy the sun and breeze, I won’t kill you. Promise” dragging open the car door.

Robyn has been driving for a while now, she has on the radio and I had to laugh at one point, they played a Rihanna mix, and I am just sat here with Rihanna, but she is a good driver, she is so good at it too. But I mean she does go around the corners fast, but I feel safe with her “I know where we are” I said pointing out of the window “yeah, I want some fish fry again. Also I enjoyed being on the beach” nodding my head “with you” she added “took you a while to say that” looking over at Robyn, the breeze just flowing though her hair, she is in her zone, she is unhappy but she is in her zone and I feel it with her, she is home “can you park?” I questioned “mhmmm” she parked the car with no issues at all “there was plenty of space for you to park in” I pointed out “whatever” I smiled lightly “I ain’t got no sun cream on by the way” opening the car door “I don’t expect anything less from you Chris” stepping out of the car “hi Rihanna” these kids walked by the car and noticed her but they just waved and smiled, walking by like it’s nothing “hey babies, y’all finished from school yeah?” Robyn said “yes we just finished, daddy said we have to go now” Robyn cooed out as she waved them off, I think their dad is not in the mood for their shit.

Robyn and I remained silent with each other, just watching the sea come in and out. It’s beautiful, this beach is very nice, the sun is shining down bright today. I will be pink by the end of this talk, I feel her, she is hurting and of course by me. I just was fed up; I am still feeling that way now. I think maybe I should start this conversation, because she did bring us here so she reached out first, so I think I will start. Squinting my eyes looking over at Robyn, she has shades on she so she can mask her emotions “I know you said I say this a lot recently, but I am sorry Robyn, my intention was to never upset you or hurt you, I never wanted that for you, for us. The way I acted was rude, it was hurtful to you because I was abrupt, I raised my voice, and I shouldn’t have. I should have waited until I was calmer, but I didn’t, and I do regret that. I feel you’re hurting and that is because of me, I don’t feel bad for anything I said besides the point of you being pregnant, you’re not a bad person. It came to my mind, and yeah you drank before, but I wasn’t thinking, it came to mind and yes, it was malicious. I wanted to get one over you, and that for me is wrong. I am sorry, I didn’t mean it, I really don’t Robyn. I do love you so much, I just want you to be protected, I do. When you weren’t home and we argued I was worried, to me this place is foreign, it’s not my home. Neither is Cali for us both, I have been through too much to not care like that Robyn. I had anxiety thinking you was out there; I wish I wasn’t like this but I am. We argued, you left, and you weren’t coming home, I didn’t like it, I was worried. My PTSD was high, then you came back like it was ok, a little drunk and high telling me you were with men, I don’t know these people, they are random men to me” Robyn is crying behind those shades, I don’t want her to cry “I am so sorry Robyn for my behaviour, I need to fix that. I am not a bad guy; I am really not. I am sorry” I apologised again, I do feel so bad about it because that is not me, I just lost my temper.

I really want to hug her, I hate to see her cry “when you walked off and said fuck it, at that point I was angered somewhat that you just walked off. I mean yes, you’re right in that sense that I do know my own father, I do but he’s trying to change. He said he is trying; he will be better for me. Now that I am becoming a wife, he promised to be nice to you and get on with you because he said he loves me. Maybe I am soft but that is me, that is heart” Robyn sniffled “so I left in anger, I was angry at you so yes I went. I didn’t think of your PTSD, I am sorry for that because I didn’t think but I needed space. I went to take my dad to choose a home, we did, and I said that I have a home for mom, this is between us. I just want to do that for my parents yeah, so I did. If he hurts me then it’s my fault, I am sure he will and I am sure you will say I told you so but I was angry with you, I wish you didn’t push me about my dad, yes I want his love. We hung out, we had fun. I did drink, I had weed and had fun because I needed that time, I needed air, I needed some time away from you because you were being too much, ok Chris. I get it, I get the fact I am being stupid but stop it, you just kept pushing and pushing, I just needed it to stop. And you’re right though, I am in no fit state to be pregnant, or even have a baby. I wasn’t thinking” Robyn put her head down and sobbed out, placing my hand on her shoulder “you are, just like you said I was pushing. I should have left it, but I didn’t, I get a little passionate about things. We both young, we both learning about things. We did say we was going to let god guide us, but I just want you to be careful if so, I just get worried about you Robyn, I do. I am protective of you, to the point I don’t want a man to see your parts, I told you this. I disagree to that, but you did it, why?” it’s just wild she did that “I didn’t think about it because I am comfortable in my own body, I am sorry Chris. I wasn’t thinking, it was just so much for me, you kept pushing and it hurt me, you were hurting me along the way with this. I get your view, but he said he has changed, and will change for me” nodding my head “Robyn, your dad ain’t worth this, and I will not let that ruin what we have” this is crazy “I am going to let it go for you Robyn, I will say hi to him and bye to him, that is it, that is for you because this ain’t worth it” shaking my head, Monica is right, Robyn needs to figure out what a snake her dad is on her own, I can’t keep pushing her to see the light when she don’t see it, I want Robyn.

This is a mess, well it’s all a mess “I know you told me about showing my body parts, like my boobs and stuff, I remember that, and I am sorry. It is being disrespectful to you, but I promise you Chris, the men I was with were family friends, I would have never sat there with people I didn’t know, I am being honest with you, like no shouting or crying. The men there were family friends, I know them. Nothing bad happen, I am sorry I didn’t call you, but I felt so pressured, I was fed up. I am trying to make you happy, my dad happy, my mother happy, my siblings happy. All I hear is how one person doesn’t like that, and I feel so much in the middle. I am sick of trying to be between everyone to make them happy, I didn’t think of your PTSD, I didn’t and that is the honest truth. It hurt me so much, to think you assume I am a horrible person and that I am not taking care of myself, yes I am trying to get pregnant but I promise I didn’t harm anything, don’t you think it hurts me that I lost the baby, that it was my fault, I would have been happy with my baby” putting my head down, I hate to hear her cry, it hurts “I ain’t mean it like that, Robyn I adore you so much. You will make a great mother; I can’t wait for that to happen to us. It will make us more united; I accept my faults Robyn. Shouting at you was bad, I wasn’t thinking because I was already angry” looking up at the sky sighing out “I don’t want my dad getting between us, I should keep it separate to us. And keep what happens to myself” clearing my throat “Robyn it’s my bad, I pushed it too much. I will always want to hear you; I want you to tell me things. Don’t just close off on me, if there is issues then tell me, what I learnt from this is that I need to just calm down, I shouldn’t be so passionate about things, I just want us to go back to us, things have been getting a little hectic” it’s just too much “same, I am sorry. I just needed some space” maybe I was being too much.

This food place is nice, I get why Robyn comes here “see what I told you, I said you would be back. You can’t resist my food” Emery pointed “yeah, thank you. I like fish, sometimes but this. It’s beautiful, thank you brother” dapping him as he walked off “you getting used to the locals now?” Robyn said smiling “I do, thank you” I said again as Emery took my plate “I am getting used to it, Barbados is beautiful. I get what you mean, it’s peace” looking at Robyn’ hand, she is staring afar, she is daydreaming. Reaching my hand over, placing my hand Robyn’ hand and she looked at me “I can’t help but say sorry, for shouting at you like that. I just want us to go back to us, I ain’t going back just yet, I think I am going to stay for a few days. I can’t let it lie like that” wrapping my hand around hers “I would prefer if you did, it’s a lot. A lot has happened but this, I wouldn’t let ir break us but I just feel like a lot was getting on top of me, I just didn’t need you to be that too, I like to make people happy, you know. But you, you’re my peace and I wasn’t getting that” nodding my head understanding “I understand what you mean, I pushed it. I should have held off until I was calm but Robyn, don’t ever leave if we argued. I can’t take it, if I lost you. Like what if you crashed the car, it was late Robyn. Don’t do that again” Robyn and I have cleared the air kind of, but I think we need a few days to make up still.

#Chrianna FF #Chrianna #Chrianna Fanfiction #Fanfic #Fanfiction

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creatingnikki · 4 years

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20 Things I want to remember in 2020

1. Surround yourself with quality people. People who introduce you to things and enrich your life and perspectives and show you different paths and things. Because you do that for most people in your life and they don’t. With them, it just feels like you’re breathing the same stale air over and over and over again. And you deserve a breath of fresh air. Damn. You deserve a whole universe full of fresh air. Seek it out. That also means baby steps out of your comfort zone.

2. Use excel sheets because they are a god-sent organisation tool. They are also way more accessible and unlike your million journals, they stay in one place.

3. “When you set boundaries, people are going to push them. If you let them, then those aren’t boundaries. They are mere suggestions.” A quote you came across on Tumblr and it’s true. People will always test your boundaries and you have to stand your ground and be assertive. Because people will always push and push and push – more often than not your interests are opposite and people don’t give a fuck about being fair, kind or considerate. Remember that in job/salary negotiations, especially.

4. Keep those you’ve asked to leave out. They will never come back with good intentions or a whole heart. Because there was a reason you decided to shut the door on them. Seasons may change, years may pass, people may die – but there’s no reason to let bitches back into your life. Not even for a random conversation or a birthday text or a curiosity meet up. Nope. No can dosville babydoll. No can do.

5. Reach out. When you’re feeling low or sad and you don’t even know why just reach out. It doesn’t have to be to your friends or loved ones. Because they get worried too easily and ask too many questions and you can’t even articulate it for yourself and perhaps it’s just a passing thing. So reach out to your community. Not to talk about how you feel but to spend time and indulge. Talk to the old woman in your neighbourhood who always smiles at you. Speak to those sweet people on tumblr who always support your work. Meet that friend from school who always wants to catch up. See, you don’t have to pour out your heart to them. You just have to get out of your rabbit hole and let the sun shine on you.

6. As your friend said, don’t be satisfied with the fact that you have a goal. No, be dissatisfied that you haven’t achieved it yet. That’s what’s going to get you to work towards it. And he didn’t mean it in a “kill yourself by overworking to achieve it” sort of a way. But a “at least take one step towards it daily” sort of way. So do it. Take one step a day towards your goal.

7. There are a lot of things you need to do and want to do. And you’ll do them. All in good time. Right now, however, your body is screaming out to you. You’ve, out of no malicious intentions, fucked it up. Not beyond repair. You can definitely fix it, help it. But it’s going to take some time and a lot more dedicated energy and focus. Other things like your post-grad and your career and your writing…it’s all-important. But without this – your body, your health – all of that is useless. You can’t take off until you have built the runway. And yes, at some point you had your runway built. And then like some giant monster out of a Powerpuff Girls episode you stomped all over it and cracked it in a minute. Now, you have calmed down. So now you must fix it. You must fix your runway. That’s your first and foremost goal. Just remember that.

8. I know for a very long time you thought you don’t care about people and society. But fuck. My love, you do. You really, really, really thought that you didn’t but you do. Every time you try to defend what you believe in. Every time you use disclaimers when you’re speaking. Every time you’re horrified at the kind of things other people say. Every time you do or don’t do something like over-explain yourself about the tiniest of things…you just prove that you care. Too deeply. No, don’t be cross with yourself. It’s okay. But what I want you to remember is less explaining to and talking to people who don’t matter about things that matter. Please, okay?

9. When you want to adopt a new habit or try something out, don’t say you’ll do it every day. Please don’t. You know you won’t. Why put that kind of unnecessary and unrealistic pressure on yourself? Want to write in a gratitude journal? Do it weekly or monthly. Maybe it’s a phase where you realize you need to be more grateful than before so maybe for those three weeks, write in it twice per week. Because when you’re setting such goals, you’re thinking of it in isolation and now in the context of the ten thousand other such goals and habits you’ve already burdened yourself with.

10. Let yourself let him go. Not because what he did can be forgiven or justified. Not because other people ask you to stop feeling like the victim. Because you were. And that impacted you way too strongly to consider the stupid things stupid people say. But because you were the victim, you aren’t right now and you don’t have to continue feeling like it. Because that just means letting him have that power over you even now. And that’s the last thing you want, right? So let yourself let him go. It will be okay. A promise I am making because I know I will keep it.

Check out the remaining 10 things here

#notes to self #13cupsofteareblog #twc prose #poeticstories #writerscreed #2020 #things i want to remember in 2020 #new year #self love #self care #self awareness #wnq writers #self reflection #year end reflection #creatingnikki #please remember

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peonybane · 5 years

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Agape and Pragma: Chapter 8

Pairings: OT7 (BTS) x Reader

Word Count: 2.8 k

Genre: Hybrid AU, Fluff, Angst, Sci-Fi, Crack (?), Smut (eventually)

Chapter Specific Notes: Lots of angst, pining, suggestive material. Like. REALLY suggestive.

Terminology: A ‘queen’ is a female cat (didn’t know this and ended up researching this a few time to make sure). A ‘doe’ is a female rabbit. A ‘peahen’ is a female peafowl (peahen vs. peacock).

Summary: Your entire world had be torn asunder by just one lab test. Time heals all wounds, but does it really? What will it take to feel whole again?

Hybrid Types: Peacock Jin, Serval Yoongi, Golden Retriever Hoseok, Gray Wolf Namjoon, Scottish Fold House Cat Jimin, Great Dane Taehyung, and French Lop Eared Rabbit Jungkook

a/n: Thank you to my best friend and beta reader, @ropeseok for helping fix and refine this chapter. Things are really heating up! Please look forward to some, ahem, ‘fun’ time in Chapter 9!

<— Previous (Chapter 7)

As you made your way across the street, you heard your name being called by a familiar voice. Turning around, you spotted Jongin. He was dressed in a simple button up and comfortable, but nice, pants. You wore a sundress and a light sweater since cafes sometimes get cold. Seemed like both of you had the idea of casual, but not too casual for coffee. He joined you, his tail flicking happily and his ears at attention, their focus on you.

The smile on his face faltered as he got into arm’s reach. His nose crinkled as if he had smelled something unpleasant. You tilted your head. “Something wrong?”

“No. It’s nothing. Think I smell—“ He paused, reconsidering himself. “Actually, never mind. Probably nothing.”

He seemed to be hiding something, but you gambled not to push any further. “Anyways, let’s go inside.”

Nodding happily, you let him lead you into the cafe.

Once inside, you both made your way over to the line to order. Even in line, Jongin still wore that sour look on his face. “You sure everything is alright?”

His tail began flicking nervously and his ears swiveled about, giving away some sort of nerves. “Yeah, just… is that some new perfume? I think the smell is messing with my head. I can’t figure out why though.”

Your brow knit together. “No. It’s the same one I wore on the plane.”

Realization seemed to have dawned on him, his eyes growing large and just as he opened his mouth to reply, the cashier called for the next person in line. Once you both had ordered, Jongin insisted upon paying (“I’m a gentleman. Don’t hurt my pride like this.”) And you shyly let him, despite guilt gnawing away at you.

Waiting for your drinks, you exchanged more simple pleasantries, Jongin continued to act well, kinda squirrelly around you as he looked around the cafe, as if waiting for someone to jump out of the shadows to attack him. Once you both had your drinks, Jongin led you over to a table in the corner. Instead of sitting close you like you thought he would, he sat as far away from you as he politely could. You’d be lying if you said that it didn’t slightly hurt your feelings.

You slowly sipped on your drink as you thought about what to say next. It wasn’t nearly this… tense the last time you met him. In fact, the last time, it felt like you two were perfectly in sync, comfortable in each other’s presence. He called your name.

“Yes, Jongin?”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what? There’s nothing to apologize for.”

“Yes. There is. I messed up. I should’ve noticed. I pressured you.”

Your voice rose an octave as he refused to meet your gaze. “No, you didn’t. I wanted to come here.”

“You’re too nice. But it’s almost cruel. Giving me some hope. Despite the fact that you’re already mated.”

“Mated?!”

Your voice was much louder than you had meant. But you couldn’t help it. That was last thing you had expected to come out of his mouth. A group of giggling teenage girls caught your attention and your face immediately flushed, knowing that they were giggling at your outburst. Jongin shot them a look and they immediately quieted down, whether it was out of intimidation or attraction (after all, that jawline could cut glass), you weren’t sure. Not that it mattered.

“Am I wrong? I didn’t smell it the last time we were together, but you’re covered in pheromones. It’s so strong…. I don’t know how I missed it the last time. It’s also so odd. It doesn’t smell like any one scent.”

You swallowed. “How… how many do you smell?”

He looked at you hurt. You didn’t deny his claims, you guessed he had secretly hoped you would. There was a venomous edge to his words. “What do you mean how many? I can’t really tell. But there’s at least a gross wet dog smell to you, a cat, some sort of rodent, and a bird.”

You did your best to remind yourself that he didn’t mean anything malicious by those words. After all, how was he to know just how deeply you felt for your roommates if you didn’t know either?

“Jo-Jongin? Can I ask you a question?”

He hesitated for a moment, his tail flicking, but hummed a confirmation as he nodded. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“What does it mean? For a Hybrid to be in love?”

He knit his brow together. “Depends, I guess. I mean, while we’re different from normal people, we’re not too different. But I guess our feelings are more… visceral. Primal. We do things without really realizing what we’re doing. Why?”

“My best friends think….” You hesitated in how you should answer. “They think, my roommates are… in love with me.”

Jongin stared you down with a hard look. “Do you love them?”

“Yes. They’re like family.”

“Don’t lie. Please.”

Sighing, you leaned back in your chair. “I don’t know. I think I do. But… how do you love seven people?”

Jongin was silent for a moment. “It’s not talked about a lot, but polyamory is a big part of the Hybrid culture, after all, very few of our species are monogamous. But it’s not something we necessarily talk about out in the open too much. Especially with normal people.”

“But you’re talking to me about it.”

“That’s because you’re apart of it, now.” He leaned towards you. “For Hybrids, attraction is like a positive feedback loop. If we like someone, no, love someone, we develop a specific pheromone just for that person. If that person loves us in return, they also emit a specific hormone, which, whether or not we’re conscious of it, will make our own hormones even stronger. It’s this endless cycle that feeds in on itself. The… scents,” he seemed to involuntarily wrinkled his nose at the word, “that I smell on you can’t be as potent as they are on you if you didn’t at least return some of their feelings.”

You swallowed. This was too much to stomach. As if sensing your nerves, Jongin sighed and said, “You love them. When you look at them, does your heart swell? Can you forgive them for everything, no matter how badly it may hurt you? Do you feel safe with them? When you’re touched, do you feel calm? Can you stand to be in complete silence around them and have no need to fill that silence? Do you want, any of them, to bend you over and just do what they want to you?”

At first, you couldn’t deny the sweet feelings he was describing to you. But your breath caught and something in your clenched at the mention of them doing with you what they will. Your throat went dry but there was no denying it, especially as the images of all seven of them doing something absolutely sinful to you flashed before your eyes.

Your voice trembled and was barely above a whisper. “…Yes.”

Jongin sighed, almost painfully as he let his head fall back. “Didn’t even have a chance, did I?”

Something tugged at your heartstrings. Guilt. “Yes, you did.”

He looked into your eyes, sadly. “No. You think that, now. But… you were always theirs. We may have worked out for a short while. But ultimately, you love them. And they love you.”

Hot tears that you couldn’t control started welling up in your eyes. Jongin smiled sadly and reached across the table, wiping at your tear with his thumb. “Don’t cry. It’s not worth it.”

“But I hurt you.”

“What’s there to be hurt about when it comes to mates? It’s not something that we can control. Sure, we can lie to ourselves that we can, but really, we can’t. I’ll just have to wait a little longer to find mine.”

He suddenly stood up, startling you. You followed his lead and stood up as well. Jongin gave you gentle, but sad smile before walking around the table to your side. You weren’t sure what was coming, but it certainly wasn’t the hug he gave you. Unsure of yourself, it took you a moment, but you eventually hugged him back.

Again, you found yourself tensing as he buried his face your neck, rubbing it against you. As he pulled away, he kissed your forehead and you looked at him with wide, almost fearful eyes. “What— What was that for?”

Jongin smirked, stuffing his one of his hands in his pocket and the other grabbed his coffee. “Just a little something to move things along. Maybe a little revenge. See ya around.”

You stood there gaping like a fish out of water as he gave you one last wave of goodbye before leaving the cafe.

^~^~^~^~^

“I’m home!”

The house was silent and you were reminded that your roommates were all out of the house, either at work (Jin was probably at the restaurant, Yoongi at his studio, Jungkook was probably with a client, and Namjoon was probably at the library) or out doing something else (You weren’t quite sure what Jimin, Taehyung, and Hoseok were up to, other than mentioning that they’d be out).

You sighed, dropping your bag off in it’s usual place. Since the guys were out, may you’d watch some of those horrible conspiracy theory tv shows and treat yourself to one of Yoongi’s top vintages or a carton of ice cream. You kicked off your shoes, leaving them at the door; you’d get them later. As you made your way to the kitchen, you draped your sweater over the back of one of the chairs in the dining area.

Entering the kitchen, you sighed heavily as you rubbed your neck. This whole ‘mates’ thing or whatever it was was really starting to take its toll on you. You opened the freezer. Now was the time to decide: vanilla or chocolate or mint ice cream for the conspiracy theory marathon. As you stared into the blinding light of the freezer, humming an unknown tune as you shook your bottom, making your decision, you didn’t notice the presence looming behind you.

Taking out your chosen flavor to defrost, you nearly drop the damn thing when you turned around, finding Jimin looming in the doorway, his tail flicking and face unreadable. You gasped, hand flying to your chest. “Dammit, Jimin! You scared the crap out of me.”

As you placed the carton of ice cream on the counter and closed the freezer, Jimin continued to stare at you, being strangely… quiet. Your brow knit together and for some reason… the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. “What— what’s wrong, Jimin?”

He remained silent. This silence sparked an unknown fury inside you. “Fine. If you’re not gonna talk then just go brood somewhere else, Batman.”

Just as you were about to push past him to go to your room to change, one moment you were marching towards the stairs, the next you found yourself pressed up against the wall, the impact slightly throwing the air out of you.

His face was pressed into your neck, he used his whole body to trap you against the wall. You brought your hands up to push him away, but he grabbed your wrists and slammed them against the wall. He was… bristling. Just like an actual cat as he growled. “Jimin! What the he— Ow!”

He bit you! Like actually bit you! It wasn’t hard enough to make you bleed, but dammit, it hurt!

Jimin growled against your neck, muttering something you couldn’t understand as you continued to struggle against him. He began licking the spot that he had bitten with his rough tongue, making you gasp… and a shiver run down your spine. “Why?”

Breathlessly you ask, “Why what?”

“Why are you covered in another damn cat’s scent? You reek of him!”

Jimin pulled away from your neck enough for you to see his eyes. They were constricted slightly in a diamond shape, something you didn’t know was possible for a Hybrid. This sparked a bit of fear in you. Why? Why was the animalistic side of him pushing against the thin veil of his humanity? You tried to respond, but all you could do was sputter. He grabbed you almost harshly, pulling you away from the wall and spinning you around, pinning you against the wall once again.

That was when you felt it. He was hard. Jimin groaned against your ear and something inside you, despite the slight fear that was quickly dissipating, clenched in need and desire. He leaned into your ear and whispered, "We were all set to stand by and watch you be happy with a normal person. But a Hybrid? If you wanted a Hybrid, any one of us was willing to step up."

You couldn’t help the needy whimper that left your lips as he ground himself against you. “J-Jongin… mmmm… is just a friend!”

Jimin let out a hiss and nipped at your neck, making you squeak. Your cheeks heated up. This shouldn’t have turned you on the way it was. “Don’t you dare say anyone else’s name. You’re mine! Jungkook’s! Hoseok’s! Yoongi’s! You’re all ours!”

Your pelvic floor clenched and the way Jimin stiffened behind you told you that he could smell just how turned on you are. “You want that? For us to make you ours? Mine and Yoongi’s queen? To be Jin’s peahen? Jungkook’s doe? A bitch in heat for the fucking canines?”

His words were making you light headed. It was so brusque. It was so dirty… and you liked it. It had been too long since anyone had spoken to you like this. And you didn’t want him to stop.

Reality came crashing down on you though at the sound of the door opening followed by Hoseok and Taehyung’s voices. You both froze for a moment until you realized that both of them were heading for the kitchen.

You panicked. Squeezing out from under Jimin, you ran. You ran past your dog Hybrid roommates as they called after you, but didn’t stop, even as you practically flew up the stairs.

Taehyung was hot on your heels as always, but you managed to get to your room and lock the door behind you before he could reach you. You heard him panting from the other side of the door. Another set of steps joined him. Hoseok called out your name. “Come on, let’s talk about it.”

“No, Hobi. I need to be alone. Not after what just happened. Not after what was said.”

Taehyung started to call your name, but you cut him short. “Please! Just… leave me alone. I can’t be around any of you. You mess with my head. And I don’t want to mess with yours.”

One of them let out the saddest whimper you had ever heard, but you ignored it, rushing to the bathroom attached to your room. You turned on the shower and stripped your clothes as quickly as you could. Once naked, you hopped into the still cold shower. Grabbing a sponge and your bottle of body wash, you prepared them as hot tears started finding their wait to your eyes.

You started scrubbing furiously at your body, wanting to get rid of the scents that were making them lose their sanity; even if you couldn’t smell them yourself. It wasn’t until your body was scrubbed almost raw and red did you stop.

Dropping the sponge, you sank against the wall of your shower until you were crouched in a fetal position. You bit the inside of your mouth to keep from crying out, lest one of your roommates forced their way in to rescue you.

Salty, hot tears ran down your face as you stared off into nothing, hoping that the water would wash away your confused feelings. But you could still feel him: the way Jimin’s body pressed up against yours, the way he growled, the way it all left you painfully aroused.

Even if you were just beginning to come to terms with your feelings for them, arousal was something else all together. And how could something so… dangerous turn you on like that? It felt… wrong. You had always been, well, vanilla in your sex life. But the implication of just being taken, of being tamed… that both aroused and terrified you. But you wanted it again. You wanted to be touched like that. You wanted to feel him against you again… you wanted them. All of them.

As always, reviews, comments, asks, and tags are always loved! ~Peony

Also, please note that I do NOT do tagging lists. Please see my FAQ for why.

Next (Chapter 9) —>

Agape and Pragma Masterlist

Masterlist

In the meantime, please check out my first smut, Frisky.

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apenitentialprayer · 4 years

Text

The Grim Reminder

Attack on Titan and the Perpetual Crisis

(x) tl;dr: the fascist believes that the nation is continually under threat, finding enemies in other nations, but the worst and most dangerous enemies being dissent originating from within. This is currently a problem in the United States, especially (but not exclusively) with the Right, which often interprets disagreement as irrational, childish behavior that is destroying the nation. From the very first episode, the characters who inhabit the world of Attack on Titan are people in constant danger; some threats are obvious, like the nearly two hundred foot tall Titan that compromises the integrity of Wall Maria; others aren’t so much, like the incompetence and corruption of the city guards. But in any case, the one consistent thing you can expect in this story is that the very world itself seems to act as an obstacle that prevents the main characters from achieving their goals. There are enemies at every turn, because the world itself is an enemy. Opponents are inhuman, strangers are potential threats waiting for you to let your guard down, and even friends are ultimately not reliable. The world is in crisis, and the only person you can trust to fix these issues is yourself. This continuous crisis is a key part of any fascist narrative. If there ever was a golden age, it is long past; the golden age, a mythic period where the fascist’s group was the best, is something that must be regained. If it is based on an actual, historical epoch, the seedier qualities of society in that time period will be de-emphasized, if not ignored. And, luckily for the people living now, the golden age is something that can be brought back; it may even be on the verge of returning, were it not for the Perpetual Crisis, the way the enemies of the state always seem able to place a new obstacle that just barely prevents the total victory of the fascist movement. The golden age is definitely a rhetorical device deployed by Eren’s father in the episodes centered on his flashbacks, and thus by Eren as well. Ignoring the history of conquest, slavery, and eugenics of the Eldian Empire, Eren’s father presents a vision of the Eldian past where his ancestors brought civilization and progress to an otherwise backward world. The ancestors of Marley and all enemies of the Eldian Empire (which seems to have been pretty much everyone) were jealous of this past, and any and all criticism of the Eldians is best viewed as propaganda weaponized against the legitimate rulers of the world. The Eldian Empire must return; it is a matter of bringing the world back to an order that has been lost. The fact that the author has made it clear that this is a rhetorical device even in-universe may actually imply that the author is critical of the distortion of the past to support a present political agenda. But even if the use golden age rhetoric is implicitly criticized, the Perpetual Crisis is a reality of the world of Attack on Titan; the story, as presented so far, makes it clear that the multitude of enemies perceived by the main characters are truly there, and are truly obstacles preventing the fulfillment of their goals. First, we have Titans who have violated the sacred boundaries of mankind by breaking through Wall Maria. Second, we have Titans who have infiltrated humanity itself, sowing discord and paranoia from within. Third, we have leaders who oppose the views of the main characters, and are thus viewed as self-serving and incompetent. It’s never the main character’s fault when something goes wrong; what prevents the main character from achieving what he wants is always a ferocious enemy, an insidious plot, or a failure to trust in one’s own feelings over the opinions of others. That’s a dirty secret of the fascist view of the world; I’ve already said that the fascist cannot abide the thought of living in peace with a rival nation. But a fascist movement thrives off of the momentum of the perpetual crisis, and thus cannot exist without the rival to define itself against. As Ernest Gellner points out, if everyone in the world was to convert to Christianity or Islam, the concept of Christianity or Islam would still have meaning - these identity labels can exist meaningfully even without an Other to define itself against. This is not the case with a nation, which defines itself as a distinct set of people, and this is even less true of a fascistic nation, which thrives best when it has enemies both within and without. We see this clearly in Nazi Germany with the concept of the lebensraum, or “living space.” Simply put, according to the Nazi regime, the Germanic peoples did not have the room it needed to thrive, and thus needed to expand. The German people were supposedly in a seminal point in history, where it either had to both expand and purify itself, or go extinct. This was an apparently urgent need, something that had to be accomplished soon, a desire so strong that the two groups acting as obstacles to fulfilling this goal were oppressive by means of their very existence; namely, the Slav already living in the lands that the Nazi regime wanted, and the Jew living among the Germanic peoples. But these weren’t the only enemies, either; anyone who questioned the need for or methods of attaining this lebensraum were also enemies, and this category would expand to include basically anyone who didn’t explicitly affirm the idea. Communists, Jews, Jehovah’s Witnesses, non-Aryans; all of these interior enemies added to the crisis, necessitating witch hunts to “purify” the Germans, with horrific results. Now, there are a lot of groups and organizations that thrive on the concept of the perpetual crisis; the Catholic Church positions itself as the Ark of Noah, keeping the faithful safe in a sea of modernist heresy; the feminist movement in recent years has emphasized chronic feelings of fear that women experience in masculinized environments, with some prominent figures taking some pretty strong positions on the #MeToo movement (Michael Che’s Kavanaugh statement comes to mind). Neither of these stances are inherently fascist, though both have the potential to become fascistic. But let’s use a slogan that wraps both the Golden Age and the Perpetual Crisis up nicely: “Make America Great Again.” The slogan clearly presupposes two things; first, that America was great at one point, and second, America is no longer great. The “greatness” America experienced seems to be located sometime before the sixties, usually during or shortly after the Second World War; we fought the Nazis and won, after all! And we came out of the Depression. Things weren’t great for many Americans, but the subgroup that was usually identified with the nation itself (middle-class, White, native-born) was doing pretty well for itself. The groups associated with America’s fall from greatness (Marxists, civil rights activists, leftist politicians) are usually those groups that challenge this Golden Age narrative. The Nazis depicted the German nation as a defeated, emasculated nation that was suffocating under the weight of the pressure placed on it; it needed more living space. The less optimistic sections of conservative Americans depicts the American nation as a declining power, rotting from the inside because of people bashing the pillars that had allowed America to stand in the first place; the Christian nation is allowing more and more Muslim immigrants even as it faces the threat of Islamic terrorism; the primarily White nation must pander to black civil rights activists and Mexican immigrants even as these populations continue to increase; a proud nation of tradition is finding its traditional ways of life slowly eroding because of modernity and an enabling, multicultural, secular liberalism. I’m not saying that America doesn’t have problems. The way it is depicted above, however, encourages the suppression of minorities and encourages conservatives to see themselves as the True Americans defending what is left of Authentic America. Like the Eldians, who depose a king because of his policy of non-violence, some Americans would like to live in a world where agitating activists are at least silenced, if not eliminated (“If you don’t like it here, move somewhere else”). Faced with the possibility of allowing power to reside in a family that would rather keep the Eldians isolated from the world and at peace in the Walls, Eren opts to murder that family in order to seize power for himself. Having finally eliminated the threat of the Titans on the island of Paradis, Eren shifts his view to Marley across the sea. The survival of the in-group is what matters most, and in a fascist worldview you must be willing to do whatever it takes in order to ensure that survival. Every disagreement is a matter of life or death, every inconvenience an existential threat; the stakes can never be too high, and your side can never be too zealous in its actions. I’m not sure how to solve the problem of dealing with enemies from without; I’m not going to touch that. But in terms of dealing with struggle from within, I’d suggest first and foremost an elimination of the us vs. them attitude. The fascist sees disagreement as malicious sabotage. We have to see political opponents as people who are equally as invested in this nation, and whose disagreements with ourselves is coming from a place of authentic concern. We have to stop attributing malicious intent where other explanations are possible; a pro-choicer declaring that pro-lifers ultimately wish to control and punish women distorts their argument and demonizes them; declaring someone who doesn’t want limits on immigration to be pro-white genocide distorts their argument and demonizes them. As a final topic, it should be noted that fascists often claim to represent the true feelings of the people, and are thus justified in accomplishing their goals as ruthlessly as possible. One of the dangers of claiming legitimacy through the people, however, is that the people are more than capable of disagreeing with you; the fascist may ignore this, overriding the general will and choosing to do what they think is best for the people. Rabindranath Tagore wrote a book back during the first agitations for Indian independence, a book called The Home and the World. Using the metaphor of husband and wife, it argues that if you are going to treat a person or group of people as if they have the right to self-determination, you have to be prepared to accept decisions that you feel don’t reflect their best interests; if you’re going to treat a government as if its power ultimately comes from the people, you have to put your money where your mouth is and take their decisions and requests seriously. Just something to think about.

#Attack on Titan #Fascism #United States #politics #Long Post #Rabindranath Tagore

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the-quiet-winds · 5 years

Text

If All Our Life is But a Dream

some soft angst. light angst. baby angst? cowritten with @ichlugebulletsandcornnuts a long fucking time ago.

“it’s just a little bump” the doctor tells jane. “unfortunately, we don’t know if there are any side effects.” at her worried glance, he goes on. “there shouldn’t be though.”

“so she’s going to be okay?” jane asks worriedly. the doctor smiles gently.

“the chances are she’ll wake up soon with a headache, asking you when she’s allowed to go home. i wouldn’t worry.” jane nods, soothed somewhat by his words.

the doctor’s phone buzzes. he grins at jane. “that means she’s awake. shall we?”

jane follows him down the corridor and into the hospital ward. katherine is in the bed next to the window, looking curiously at the pulse monitor attached to her finger.

“miss seymour?” the doctor says, and jane smiles automatically; the feeling of happiness she gets when anyone calls katherine a seymour never fades. katherine doesn’t look up. for a second jane panics that katherine’s somehow lost her hearing, but the doctor says a slightly louder “miss?” and katherine finally looks at them.

katherine smiles brightly. “a visitor!” she boisterously. “my name is katherine. what’s yours?”

there’s one moment of blissful ignorance where jane thinks she’s talking to the doctor. then she realises, when she sees the doctor speaking to a nurse in hushed voices and concerned looks, that katherine isn’t looking at the doctor. she’s looking at jane. jane’s eyes widen and she looks at the doctor, then back at katherine. “kat, it’s me, jane,” she says, concerned. katherine blinks, no recognition in her eyes.

“jane?” katherine repeats the name once, twice, testing it for familiarity. “i’m sorry...i don’t remember you.”

the doctor gently pulls on jane’s elbow. “near total amnesia,” he whispers.

jane’s heart feels like it stops dead. “amnesia?” she repeats slowly. “but- but you said- you said she’d be okay!”

the doctor looks at her gently. “she hit her head at just an angle that it caused some swelling.” he looks grim. “we couldn’t tell until she woke up.”

“kat,” jane says, taking a step towards the girl in the bed. “please tell me- what do you remember?” she hopes beyond all hope that her memories were there, that they perhaps just needed to be prompted.

katherine thinks for a moment. then another moment. about ten seconds of silence passes before she sighs and shrugs.

katherine sighs. “i know my name.” she hesitates, then looks at jane with a naive light in her eyes. “is there a lot more i should know?” she squints at jane, trying to recognize her but nothing but blankness comes up. “do i know you? are we friends?”

jane doesn’t know what to say. she wants to say “i’m your mother, sweetheart”, but the unassuming look in katherine’s eyes makes her stop herself. she couldn’t put that kind of pressure of their familiar relationship on katherine straight away, not when she was so confused. instead, she nods quietly. “yes, we are.”

‘she’ll remember,’ she tries to convince herself in her head. ‘later on she’ll call me mum without even thinking about it.’

“do you know what happened to me?” katherine looks so young, so confused and so lost. “no one ever told me how i got here or where my family is...” she pauses and her eyes widen dramatically. “do i even have a family?”

“you do have a family!” jane can’t stop herself from saying, although she stops herself and changes tack. “you have the five of us women. we... might not be related by blood, but we count each other as family. not to mention boleyn- Anne, i mean, but we tend to call her by her last name, she’s your cousin.” she’s not entirely sure why she mentioned that fact, but katherine’s eyes lights up at the news.

“my cousin!” she repeats, and jane hates that she feels almost resentful that boleyn gets a moment of joy out of katherine when she didn’t. katherine looks back at her, face falling again.

“you didn’t answer my other question though. what happened to me?”

the doctor decides to interrupt. “i think that’s enough for now. we don’t want to overload her.” he gently starts to pull jane away from katherine’s bedside. “you can come back later.” katherine doesn’t look phased. “bye!” she waves

the second they’re out of katherine’s sight jane turns to the doctor. “you can fix this, right?” she asks desperately. “there must be something you can do to help her remember!”

the doctor looks apologetic. “i’m sorry, there isn’t any one ‘cure‘ for amnesia. some patients find their memories come back slowly over time, some respond to specific memory triggers, and some...” he looks at her almost sadly. “well, some never regain their memories.”

it’s then that parr, boleyn, and cleves burst in. “aragon is parking. we came as soon as we heard. what happened?!”

jane opens her mouth but can’t bring herself to say those words. parr recognises the hopeless look on her face and her eyes widen slightly.

“jane... what happened to her?”

jane swallowed and tried to speak, voice coming out in a croak. “we were crossing the road, and this driver pulled out of nowhere. he tried to stop, he almost did, but he knocked katherine over. the car wasn’t going fast and I- the paramedics told me that everything was going to be okay. she didn’t have any broken bones, but she hit her head when she fell and they said she’d be fine when she woke up.” her voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. “they said she’d be fine.”

the doctor stepped forwards. “Katherine’s head injury was more severe than we thought. it appears she suffered severe memory loss.”

boleyn looks mortified. “but she remembers us right? she has to. i’m her bloody cousin!” she hums a bit of their songs from the show. then she freezes. “does she know about our...” she eyes the doctor warily. “...other experiences together?”

jane shakes her head. “i don’t think so. she didn’t seem to remember... anything.” tears well in her eyes and she wipes them away hurriedly with the back of her hand

parr places a hand on jane’s shoulder comfortingly. “i’m sure it’ll come back.” she looks at the

the doctor looks apologetic. “i can’t make any promises. with most cases of amnesia sustained by head injury, memories will start to return, but there is always a chance they won’t. she does have a good chance though; she’s young and healthy, and she seems to have a good support system.” he glances around at the women. “there is just... one thing I should mention. there is a chance that her brain will repress any traumatic memories, even if the rest of her memories return.”

parr and jane look at each other knowingly. cleves swears. boleyn wants to strangle the doctor. they all know one thing: katherine wouldn’t be katherine without all that happened in her past life.

the doctor seems slightly attuned to the fact that half the women in front of him seem to be wishing pain upon him and he quietly excuses himself, telling them that he’d inform them when katherine was ready for visitors again. jane slumps down in one of the plastic chairs attached to the wall and buries her face in her hands. “what are we going to do?” she asks hopelessly to nobody in particular.

parr sits down beside her. “we wait for her to remember herself. and we’re there for her every step of the way. and...well...” parr’s voice drops a little as she nudges jane’s ribs lightly. “she’ll still love you. no matter what.”

“but what if she doesn’t?” jane asks quietly. “you didn’t see her face when she saw me. there wasn’t anything there, no recognition, no kind of feeling at all.” the tears return and jane can’t help herself from sobbing. parr rubs her back comfortingly.

“but she will, jane. at the moment she’s probably still disoriented from the accident, but she loves you so much, and no head injury is going to change that, you hear me?”

jane nods mutely. then, a red headed nurse steps out of katherine’s room. “she requests to see a...boleyn?” she looks at the five women. “does that name ring a bell?”

boleyn stands up, shooting a slightly confused look at jane. “uh, yeah, that’s me,” she says. she looks back at jane again, almost as if asking if it was okay for her to go.

jane closes her eyes for a moment before opening them again. “go, anne. katherine needs you.” her voice holds no trace of maliciousness, just a distinct sadness that lingers in the air as boleyn follows the nurse, shooting one last apologetic look back as she does so.

katherine brightens as the unfamiliar woman enters the room. “i heard you were my cousin!” she exclaims. “i had to meet you.” she sobers slightly. “i thought you might know something about me...” she trails off hopefully, looking shyly at boleyn

“of course,” boleyn shrugs, approaching the bed. “i mean, what do you want to know?”

“is ‘who am I?’ too broad of a question?” katherine asks hesitantly, and boleyn stifles a snort of laughter.

“sorry,” she adds when katherine looks taken aback. “but yeah, it’s a bit broad. i can work with it though.” she thinks for a second. “so, you’re katherine. kat for short, kitty if i want to make fun of you- in a nice way,” she adds hastily. “um, you like singing, you don’t like cleaning up after yourself when you’ve been painting your nails on the kitchen table, and you really want a dog.” she scrunches her nose. “actually, this is kind of hard. do you have questions? that might be easier.”

katherine looks at boleyn with rapt curiosity. then she turns oddly bashful. “that woman who was in here earlier...julia,” katherine says surely, unaware that that was definitely not jane’s name. “who was that? she seemed really upset that i didn’t know who she was.” katherine contemplates for a moment. “i didn’t mean to hurt her. i just...i can’t remember!” katherine suddenly screams in frustration.

boleyn didn’t know what to do. she isn’t used to dealing with other people’s emotions, especially not in situations as difficult as this. she sits down in the chair next to Katherine’s bed and tentatively pats the back of her hand in what she hopes is a comforting way.

“jane... you two are close,” she says quietly. “i mean, she’s never said it but we all know you’re her favourite. so... yeah, she’s a little bit upset you don’t remember her, but that’s not your fault! and she knows it’s not your fault.” boleyn silently prays that katherine will accept her answer, but something tells her that this conversation was going to carry on. she supposes it’s hard, and she doesn’t blame katherine for getting upset about it, but wow is boleyn not the right person to be soothing a highly confused girl with memory loss, and she knows it.

“favorite?” katherine asks with heavy breaths. “how long have we...all of us...known each other? how did we meet?” she pauses again. “how many of us are there?”

boleyn lets out a noise that’s halfway between a hum and a screech as she tries desperately to delay answering. “there’s... six of us, including you,” she finally says, deciding to get the easiest part over with. “and we all sing together. and we’ve known each other for... a long time,” she compromises, deciding to not mention the fact that they had 500 years worth of history with each other on the basis that she might sound completely crazy. “i’ve technically known you since you were born, even though we didn’t meet until a lot later.”

“we sing?!” katherine is suddenly elated. “how cool? are we a band?!” she hangs on boleyn’s every word. “that’s a long time that you’ve known me...i think?” a suddenly thought strikes her. “how old am i?”

“about 19,” boleyn says, before realising her mistake. Katherine frowns, confused.

“‘about’? don’t you know how old I am?”

“it’s... difficult to tell,” boleyn tries her best to explain. “most people think you’re 19.” katherine still looks confused so boleyn attempts to deflect her attention. “and yeah, we’re in a band! we tour and stuff, we’ve got costumes, we’ve got our own signature songs. it’s a lot of fun.”

“I have my own song?” katherine brightens at that. “how does it go?”

boleyn sighs, she should have expected this. “your...character...” she starts hesitantly, “hasn’t had the easiest love life. she sings about all these men who have done her wrong.” katherine looks satisfied and leans back to take in the new information.

outside, jane is pacing the hallway. “they’ve been in there forever! what could they be talking about?” her insides are a quivering mess, yet she does her best to keep it together but one evil, malicious thought nips at her spine relentlessly: what if katherine doesn’t remember her and wants to be with boleyn more? it’s a horribly selfish and envious thought, but jane can’t help it.

one desperate part of her wants to just walk right in and beg katherine to remember her, but she knows the idea is futile. it doesn’t stop her hand from creeping towards the door handle, the only thing making her pause being the blank look in katherine’s eyes when she’d looked at jane last. she doesn’t know if she could cope with katherine looking at her without a single bit of recognition again, if she could deal with the pain that caused her.

“i’m sure boleyn’s just explaining things,” cleves suggests. “how she got to the hospital, that kind of thing.”

“i don’t think it’s anything to worry about,” parr adds kindly.

she hears muffled voices through the door, something about songs and bands and then something odd. boleyn’s voice, the way it twitches. jane has listened to the others talk enough to know what the strangled consonants meant. she was struggling. jane’s ears then detected katherine’s excited curiosity, asking question after question. “can i ask you one more thing?” she hears kathryn voice ring through the door. she leans closer to listen. her voice quiets slightly, making it difficult to hear. “something about...jane...all very odd...”

jane freezes, before practically pressing her ear to the gap at the edge of the door in an attempt to listen closer. aragon frowns at her, confused.

“what are-“

“sh!” jane shoots her a frantic look. it’s hard to tell what they’re saying in the room, and she strains to listen.

katherine’s voice, muffled and light, bumps it’s way too jane’s ears. “it’s just something...all too friendly...should remember...almost scary...”

jane’s heart almost broke. not only did katherine not remember her, she seemed overwhelmed by jane. perhaps jane had been too overbearing when she’d seen her, maybe she’d scared katherine off and now she wouldn’t want to spend time with her. jane’s breathing quickens and she backs away from the door, blindly feeling for a chair and collapsing onto it.

parr and aragon are instantly at her sides, each one gripping a shoulder. “what is it, jane?” parr asks, but doesn’t get an answer. boleyn exits the room, closing the door softly behind her. “she wants to see you, jane,” boleyn says quietly and unsurely, twisting her hands together

jane looks at her for a moment. “are you sure?” she asks, and boleyn nods. jane stands slowly on unsteady feet and makes her way over to the door. she takes a deep breath, before pushing the door open and entering the room. katherine is sitting up in her bed, waiting for her.

katherine looks uncertain when jane enters the room. “can you close the door please?” she waits for jane to sit down beside the bed. “there’s something i want to talk to you about...is that okay?”

“of course, sweetheart.” the term of endearment slips out without jane realising and she cringes internally. “what i mean to say is that you can talk to me about whatever is on your mind,” she corrected. katherine looks nervous, and jane wants nothing more than to pull her daughter into a hug and tell her everything is going to be okay, but she has to stop herself. she can’t scare katherine off any more than she already has.

katherine’s head whips towards jane at hearing the word, her ears and cheeks flushing bright red. “i have this weird memory... i think you were there.” katherine closes her eyes to focus. “it was dark, really dark, but i heard a voice, soft and kind, definitely a female. she was singing some sort of lullaby...” she opens her eyes and looks at jane inquisitively. “do you remember any of this?”

jane was not expecting this to be the question katherine asked. she stutters slightly in the reply, trying to word it as best she could. “it’s... possible that was me. sometimes-“ she debates revealing the information for a moment before continuing. “sometimes you like me to sing you to sleep after you’ve had a nightmare, or a-“ she cuts herself off before she could mention katherine’s panic attacks; it was too soon to bring them up. “but katherine, it’s very possible it was someone else,” she adds, not wanting to get her hopes up that katherine could be remembering her.

katherine slowly nods. she knows there are things that jane is withholding from her...she just wants to remember. “there was this nickname...something she said to me...i can’t get it out of my head.” she lowers her voice to a murmur to herself. “katie? no that’s not it. kat? longer...” she groans. “it was something! i can’t remember!”

“kitty-kat,” jane breathes, realisation dawning on her. katherine did remember her, even if she didn’t realise it, and jane suddenly has a shred of hope to cling to. katherine’s eyes widen at the nickname.

“that’s it! that’s the name!” realization hits katherine out of nowhere. “it was you in that memory! you wouldn’t have known that otherwise, would you?” challenges katherine, feeling brave suddenly

“I-“ jane starts. “yes, you’re right. it must have been me.” she pauses for a moment, trying to decide how much she should tell Katherine, if anything; she didn’t want to upset her or cause her too much stress. “it’s my nickname for you, and, well, it calms you down when you need calming.” jane knew she was being vague, but it was better not to overload katherine with information. not yet.

“please stop,” katherine groans, harsher than she intends, “stop tip-toeing! you and...boleyn! neither of you would give me straight answers!” some of katherine’s old fire is back. “just TALK to me, please, just tell me who you are. who i am...what we are to each other...” her voice falls off, and she cringes at her sudden outburst

“kat,” jane sighs. “i- i really wish i could tell you, but it’s complicated, and you wouldn’t believe half of what i had to say anyway.”

“try me,” katherine says, quietly but firmly. “please, i just want to know.”

jane pauses for one moment more before nodding. “okay. i’ll tell you. i’m, well, i’m your mum.”

katherine stares at her, eyebrows raising in confusion. “wait, what? but i’m like, twenty, and you’re only, what, thirties?”

“i adopted you,” jane explains. she omits the fact it involved a lot of lying to the government; she couldn’t exactly tell them she was 510 years old, or that her prospective adopted daughter was technically 494. katherine gives a slow nod of understanding.

“so... you’re my mum?” she asks shyly, and her cheeks go slightly pink.

katherine twists the bedsheets in her hands. there’s so much more she wants to ask. “my...mum...” she says quietly, testing the unfamiliar word. “how did we meet?” she asks. then, after a short pause, the question that’s lingered since jane said “adopted” spills out, “why did you adopt me?”

jane closes her eyes. this was exactly what she wanted to avoid; talking about katherine’s past, the trauma, and the bizarre situation they now found themselves in, having a second chance at life. she sighs quietly.

“it just happened naturally. we became close, and i’ve always felt maternal towards you, and so... after a while, i decided to make it official. we didn’t meet until the band came together, but we’ve been linked for a long time.”

“stop,” katherine says, more harshly than she intends. “you’re doing it again. you’re avoiding my questions.”

“i’m sorry,” jane says, and she meant it. “i just don’t know how to tell you everything that happened.” she almost reaches out to take katherine’s hand and squeeze it gently to reassure her, but she stops herself at the last moment.

“why can’t you just tell me?” katherine asks ashamedly. “what could be so bad? are we bank robbers? part of a cult? there has to be something crazy awful for no one to tell me...” she stares at the wall, then squints as a hazy memory folds into focus. a name. “was there someone...named...henry?”

jane had to make a decision. she’s getting nowhere by withholding katherine’s past, and she can see how frustrated it was making katherine.

“you have a right to know,” she says quietly. “but you’re not going to believe me.” she puts her hands in her lap, staring down at them. “henry... was my husband. he was also your husband. and boleyn’s, and everyone else’s in our band, one after the other when he got tired of his old wife.” katherine’s eyes widen alarmingly and she opens her mouth as if to try and say something, but the words don’t come.

“that’s how we all met,” jane continues. “through him.” she pauses. “this is going to sound strange, but do you remember anything that almost feels as if it was a different time, or a different life? long gowns, draughty castles, feasts, someone playing the lute?” she looks at katherine’s face, hoping for any sign of recognition.

katherine shudders. “i remember seeing a large crowd...” she closes her eyes to focus, her hands gripping her head. “they were silent...i was being held roughly and they were taking me toward a stage...there’s a man with a sword waiting for me. someone far away yells ‘off with her head’... then-“ katherine cuts off sharply, eyes flying open as her hands suddenly grasp at her own neck, as if ensuring it was still there. “what happened to me?” she whispers unbelievingly

with a heavy heart jane tells her. she tells her about a tyrant called henry who left a trail of hurt women behind him, about a girl called katherine who was far too young to experience the things she had, about the man called thomas who led to everything collapsing. with every word katherine’s face becomes more and more distraught, tears streaming down her cheeks seemingly without her even realising it, hands clutching at the bedsheets. when jane finishes she looks at katherine sadly. “i’m sorry, kat,” she says softly.

katherine is speechless for a long time. she was 13? she was queen? she was EXECUTED?! “i didn’t think they did executions anymore,” katherine mumbled to herself. “what about you?” she asks. “what did...what happened to you?”

“nothing as dramatic as everyone else,” jane looks down. “i died a few days after having my son. there were complications. natural causes.” she takes a deep breath; it was still hard for her to think about what had happened, about the time she never got to spend with her son.

“i’m sorry jane,” katherine says quietly. something in her eyes change, jane notices, from unfamiliarity to careful consideration. “i think i remember something else...” katherine looks at jane very intently. “it must have been at our house...in the driveway maybe? i was on the ground...i think you were holding me...does that sound familiar?”

“that was recent,” jane nods. “a month or so ago, we had a little falling out. what you’re remembering was when we made up again. you’d had a difficult day and-” she swallows slightly, a lump caught in her throat. “you needed your mum,” she finishes quietly.

more memories begin to flash in katherine’s mind. she hears voices cutting through darkness and sees kind eyes and shining blonde hair. “it’s like there’s something that i’m missing. something huge. i don’t know what it is...something from my...our past...” she pauses “when we met, what did you say to me? do you remember?” katherine asks frantically, hoping that that could be the missing piece.

jane explains that they simply exchanged pleasantries and sang a bit together. katherine groans to herself. “there’s something i’m still missing,” she says very sadly. “i want to remember you!” katherine exclaims hopefully. “i just wish...” she began to sniffle as tears made their way down her cheeks again. “i’m sorry...i’m so sorry...” hesitantly, a word slips from her lips, so quietly that jane barely hears it. “mum”

jane freezes for a moment before a smile graces her face. “kitty-kat,” she breathes softly. “it’s okay, sweetheart. we’ll keep trying to get your memory back, and no matter what happens i’ll be here for you. i’ll still love you, kitty-kat, in this life or any other. and nothing is going to change that.”

katherine sharply intakes a breath, trembling slightly as she slowly exhales. “in this life or any other,” she repeats softly. “in this life or any other...” she says again, louder. “i think... i think i’m starting to remember... aragon... cleves.. parr...”

jane’s eyes widen and she takes katherine’s hand. “that’s right, kat. that’s right. can you remember anything else?”

katherine screws up her face in concentration. “i’m trying... i remember the band... and- my song?” she hums a bar of All You Wanna Do. “that’s my song, isn’t it?”

“yes,” jane nods, unable to stop her smile. “yes, that’s yours.”

katherine looks up at jane happily. “and you’re jane, but i call you ‘mum’.” things keep coming back to her. “your favorite colors are white and pink, because pink is mine, you bake a mean casserole, and you are the best mum anyone could ask for,” she states matter-of-factly. her smile turns even more radiant. “and i’m katherine. katherine how-“ she stops, and jane turns fearful for a moment. “katherine seymour.”

jane can’t help it any more and immediately pulls katherine into a tight hug. “that’s right, sweetheart.” she half-laughs, half-cries. katherine clings to her, grinning uncontrollably.

“i did it, mum, I remembered.” she lets out a happy sigh as jane places a kiss on her forehead.

“i love you, kitty-kat,” jane smiles. “and i’m so proud of you.”

“i couldn’t have done it without you, mum,” katherine sighs. “i couldn’t do anything without you anymore. i love you so much mum.” she draws back to look jane in the eyes. “in this life or any other.”

jane tucks a piece of hair behind katherine’s ear and smiles at her gently. “in this life or any other,” she repeats back. “now, you’ve got some visitors outside who i’m sure would love to hear that your memory is better.”

“oh no...” katherine sighs and laughs at the same time. “can’t wait to see boleyn again, give her a little crap from earlier.” her eyes light up mischievously.

“be nice to her, sweetheart,” jane laughs. “want me to let them in now?”

“one second,” katherine tells her, before pulling jane into one last hug. when she pulls back she gives jane a smile and a nod. “okay, now i’m ready.”

aragon, parr, cleves, and boleyn timidly enter the room, one after another. they each fixate themselves in a different position around the room, all feeling very awkward. “one of a kind, no category,” katherine says smartly

one by one their faces begin to light up.

“you remember?” boleyn asks, taking a step forward. katherine looks at her and frowns.

“i remember everyone else but i still don’t remember you.” she almost makes it to the end of the sentence before bursting out laughing and boleyn stares at her. cleves snorts and hides her laughter behind her hand.

“you bitch!” boleyn says indignantly, but she can’t help joining in the laughter. “you actually had me tricked there for a second.”

“not hard to fool you though,” aragon grins, nudging her with her elbow, and boleyn flips the bird at her. parr places a hand on katherine’s shoulder.

“it’s good to have you back,” parr says with a smile.

“good to be back,” katherine laughs.

boleyn grumbles good-naturedly beneath her breath. “i’ll get you back howard,” she laughs slightly.

“no you won’t,” jane and parr say almost simultaneously. katherine sticks her tongue out at boleyn who makes a childish face back.

“girls, girls,” cleves says, poorly concealing a laugh, “no deaths today, please.”

———————————————————————————————————–

tag list: @percabeth15 @kats-seymour @qualquercoisa945 @jane-fucking-seymour @a-slightly-cracked-egg @justqueentingz @annabanana2401 @wolfies-chew-toy @broad-way-13 @tvandmusicals @lailaliquorice @aimieallenatkinson @sweet-child-why03 @gaylinda-of-the-upper-uplands @funky-lesbians @thinkaboutitmaybe@hansholbeingoesaroundzeworld @anaamess @beeskneeshuh@prick-up-ur-ears @theartoflazy @justqueentwo @brother-orion @paleshadowofadragon @lafemmestars @beautifulashes17 @jarneiarichardnxel @idkimbadwithusernamesandstuff @sixcago @mixer1323 @boleynssixthfinger @aimieallen @elphiesdance @boleynthebunny @krystalhuntress @lupin-loves-chocolate @bellacardoza16 @bluify

#six the musical #six musical #katherine howard #jane seymour #anne boleyn #catherine parr #catherine of aragon #anne of cleves #julie and jess write #if all our life is but a dream

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ecoamerica · 2 months

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unbidden-yidden · 5 years

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I saw your post about how Xianity is not essential to Judaism and and I don't want to derail it it but one particular thing really struck me while reading it; the concept of teshuva compared to Xian forgiveness, particularly how those differences really reflect how I've seen both religious cultures (???) handle person-to-person forgiveness. Judaism (at least from what I've seen) has actual steps for apologising, and they're all really good common-sense rules like 'don't do it again'. (1/3)

(cont.) The burden is on the offender to make things right, they’re the active party. In contrast, in Xianity you don’t have to do anything to make it up to the person you hurt. In fact, in Xian communities there’s usually a burden on the /hurt/ party to forgive and it’s seen as really cruel and a sign of moral weakness that you won’t let them feel better about what they did, even (sometimes /especially/) when they’re not sorry and intend to keep hurting you. (2/3)

(cont.) To me these two things feel like extensions of the attitude towards divine forgiveness and repentance. In Xianity receiving forgiveness feels like a very passive thing that’s all centred on your own guilt, your own inherent sin, and an attitude of ‘I said sorry so my hands are clean and now you have to make it up to me for making me feel bad for what I did’, etc. Judaism, on the other hand, seems to take a very pro-active, balanced approach of doing better for yourself and others. (3/3)

Hi Sarahsyna,

The differences between xian and Jewish understandings of what forgiveness is and how we should go about it are interesting, no?

I would say this is a pretty accurate analysis of the differences and where they come from. However, I would like to expand on this and add a bit of nuance to it, if I may.

There are different levels and types of wrongs to be forgiven, and the responses to them should be different.

Wrongs that are relatively minor, are fixable, and/or that are relatively common amongst otherwise decent people;

Wrongs that major, unfixable, and/or that are criminal/violent in nature;

Wrongs committed against oneself

Wrongs committed against others (usually in your sphere of influence, such as to your family members, but not necessarily)

In my experience, Judaism does a much better job of making these distinctions than xianity.

Minor Wrongs vs. Major Wrongs

Xian forgiveness is really appropriate for minor wrongs (with proportionately minor consequences.) Things like: someone took your lunch once, which creates an annoying but temporary problem. We shouldn’t sweat the small stuff, and as frustrating as that situation is, it’s not worth holding a grudge against someone forever because of a dumb prank.

Judaism similarly holds that we shouldn’t hang onto a grudge over this, and encourages people to let it go. Give the offender ample chance to apologize, but if they don’t, don’t waste your energy being mad at them. (Have you forgiven them? No. Should you still move on with your life? Yes.)

Of course, if by taking your lunch, they caused you to be unable to take a vital medicine, which consequently put you in the hospital, it should change the equation, no?

In xianity as I experienced it (**please insert that caveat throughout this discussion), it actually doesn’t change the equation. The intent of the offender was a dumb prank and so the forgiveness should be equally straightforward, even if the consequences to you are more severe than that person realized they would be when they did it. You should try to put yourself in the prankster’s shoes and imagine how awful you’d feel and how badly you’d want to be forgiven if it were you.

In Judaism, that person would need to do a lot more to make it right before asking for forgiveness. That might involve helping you pay your hospital bills, picking up your slack at work and/or otherwise trying to help in concrete ways because while their intent was minor, the effect on you was major. They must cope with that reality in the same way that you must. Might their intent factor into how inclined you are to forgive them afterwards? Sure! But they need to show that they realize how serious the consequences of their actions are and seek to remedy it first.

Fixable vs. Unfixable Wrongs

The consequences of some wrongs are fixable to varying degrees; others are not. If you take five dollars from my bag and then feel bad about it an hour later and put the money back? You’ve totally rectified the situation.

On the other extreme? While I have put in many, many hours of therapy and self-reflection and healing and therefore have gotten it under control, I will never not have trauma from having been raped and abused. Even if the perps spent the rest of their lives truly regretting what they did and doing hard work on behalf of survivors, they could never undo the damage they caused, even if they subsequently changed their behavior 180 degrees. (Editorial note: unsurprisingly, none of them have actually done any of that.)

Growing up, I felt an unbearable need to magnanimously forgive the perp despite his refusal to admit to what he did or apologize, and even as a culturally xian adult, I still felt a compulsory need to forgive subsequent offenders at least for my own sake in order to move on.

Judaism relieved me of any responsibility to forgive any of them, ever, because they have never apologized. I’m not even allowed to forgive them since they’ve never asked for it, but I don’t have to do so in order to heal because nothing they could do could heal me anyway. Them apologizing wouldn’t change the reality of their acts and me forgiving them wouldn’t change their future behavior. My healing is (for better or worse) my problem, and their becoming better people is their problem.

In a better world where they did hold themselves accountable? That would be stellar, but even in that world my remedy comes from the peace of mind in knowing that they aren’t hurting other people, from them still staying the hell away from me, and the justice in knowing that they have to live with what they did and are truly reckoning with it.

As a side note, it’s worth noting that this is why lashon hara is compared to murder by the rabbis. Lashon hara literally means “evil speech,” but refers to true statements that did not need to be made for any serious purpose and are malicious in nature. As an example, “Alex has gotten really overweight this year, huh?” might strictly speaking be true, but is nevertheless clearly intended to be mean and gossipy. Why is lashon hara taken so seriously? Because you can’t put that toothpaste back in the tube. You can’t unring that bell. Once those words have left your lips, they’re out there, forever. You can apologize, but you can’t unsay what you already said.

Grace vs. Accountability

Ultimately, I believe that the foundational difference between how xianity approaches forgiveness and how Judaism approaches forgiveness are how it is defined in each.

In xianity, forgiveness flows, as you said from the idea that humans were forgiven for our sins by Jesus on his own initiative, and therefore we should replicate that kind of forgiveness in our own lives. Sin is inevitable, and the work of repairing it can be done by the person who was wronged, the same way that Jesus repaired humanity’s relationship with God through his sacrifice. This creates a model that centers grace given by the wronged person. Deservingness on the part of the wrongdoer does not factor into the equation.

At its best, this gives the person who was wronged the agency to address the problem themselves without waiting around for the wrongdoer to get it together. It has the potential to allow people with pain to let go of that pain. At its worst, it creates a system where victims are pressured (by their communities, spiritual leaders, and/or themselves) to forgive at great cost to themselves with zero accountability on the part of the offender.

However.

That assumes, as a baseline, that forgiveness is a prerequisite to moving on with your life. In the same way that forgiveness by God/salvation is a prerequisite to eternal life in xianity, so too is forgiveness between individuals a prerequisite to living the rest of your life without that baggage.

Judaism makes no such assumption. In fact, it comes to rather the opposite conclusion: forgiveness may be necessary for the wrongdoer to move on, but you, the wronged person, should feel no need to provide it unless and until the person has actually rectified the situation and asked for forgiveness. (And even under those circumstances, while forgiving is the morally correct thing to do, you aren’t always actually obligated to do so.)

Judaism operates on an accountability model that says that if you harm another person, it’s on you to fix it to that person’s satisfaction. If you are harmed by another person, you should do whatever you need to in order to move forward, but you don’t have to say that they’ve met their burden unless and until they actually do. In this view, forgiveness is not defined as grace, but rather as recognition that the person has actually held themselves accountable for their actions.

This, too, flows from a theological perspective: G-d expects us to constantly be striving to better ourselves, which we can only do by holding ourselves fully accountable for our actions. We are moral creatures, capable of making an active choice between good and evil. While mistakes are inevitable, we elevate ourselves spiritually, not by the grace of G-d or others, but by evaluating and reflecting on our own behavior and then taking active steps towards long-lasting change.

All of that, however, refers to direct wrongs between the wrongdoer and the wronged. I would be extremely remiss if I didn’t address … …

Wrongs Committed Against You vs. Wrongs Committed Against Others in Your Vicinity

One of the most serious problems I have with xian theology is the fact that the concept of grace doesn’t just apply between the wrongdoer and the wronged. It also applies between bystanders and the wronged.

Here is a great example of this:

Many of you may not know that one of my four children has Down syndrome. Her name is Bekah, and today she is 25. Bekah went to public school in elementary and middle school and was in normal classes and had lots of friends. Later, she attended college.

Many years ago, Bekah wanted to try out for cheer leading. My wife and I were amazed at how she learned the routines – jumping in the air, doing splits, and yelling out the cheers. Unfortunately, she did not make the team which was very disappointing for her and us. She had a really hard time understanding that she could no longer cheer with the other girls.

Soon afterwards, we received a letter from the coach explaining Bekah was not cut from the team because of her disability but because…she kicked, hit, yelled and cussed while in line with the other girls. We were stunned, no shocked, because Bekah had never exhibited any of those behaviors ever in any situation.

At a sleepover a few weeks later, which Bekah hosted in our home, several of the girls who had made the team asked my wife why Bekah had not made the team. My wife gently told them about the letter. They all immediately cried out, “Ms. Ellen, that’s not true at all. Bekah didn’t do any of those things. In fact, she did great in the tryouts.” Ellen called for me and asked me to come hear what the girls were saying. They repeated it all again.

This person had not only lied but had impugned Bekah’s character and we were angry! What had been done to our daughter was dastardly. The question afterwards was, “What are we going to do about this?” We knew we could not pull these girls into a dispute with this coach. So, we had no recourse. This coach had hurt a person who could not speak up for herself due to her disability and there was nothing we could do about it…except forgive.

Did this person deserve to be forgiven? Absolutely not. But we were not going to allow a root of bitterness to grow within us that Hebrews 12:15 warns about. We were not about to give this person power over our lives. We were not about to give Satan power over us. Was it easy? No! Everything in us cried out for justice but there was none to be had.

So, we trusted Christ in us, the greatest “forgiver” of all time, to live through us so we could forgive. We wanted to live like who we are in Christ, “forgivers”, in obedience from the love in our hearts for our Father. We wanted to “forgive one another just as God had forgiven us in Christ” (Ephesians 4:32) So, we sat before the Lord and poured out to Him our anger, our hurt, and our desire for justice. Then, because God had forgiven us for all our sins we did not deserve to be forgiven for, we forgave this person; meaning, we released the person from the debt we believe they owed us. In this case, the debt would have been an admission to us and especially to Bekah of the wrong they had done.

A few weeks later, would you believe that we saw this person at a church we were visiting? We were both so glad we had been honest with God about the hurts we received from the offense and then chose to forgive. We live free today from bitterness, resentment and unforgiveness. Praise God!

[Source: x]

Okay, so we don’t have time to unpack all of that, but just… sit with the fact, for a moment, that Bekah is utterly silenced by this approach. Did her parents have any right to forgive the coach? No, no they did not. That was Bekah’s right, and Bekah’s alone.

Compare that to what Rabbi Telushkin relays in his Code of Jewish Ethics:

”The differing attitudes of Jews and Christians on granting forgiveness for serious, particularly violent, crimes is reflected in an incident that Dr. Solomon Schimmel, a psychologist and a religious Jew, relates in his book, Wounds Not Healed, concerning a Christian woman who nursed back to life a man who had murdered her parents and raped her. The man, shocked by her behavior, asked the woman, “Why didn’t you kill me?” She replied, “I am a follower of him [i.e., Jesus] who says, ‘Love your enemy.’ “A remarkable story, but as Schimmel, writing from a Jewish perspective, asks, “Why, however, is it noble to love and take care of evil people?”

“In contrast to this woman’s attitude, when the Jewish writer Cynthia Ozick was asked if it was morally appropriate to forgive a penitent Nazi SS officer who had participated in the murder of a Jewish community in Poland, she responded: “‘I forgive you,’ we say to the child who has muddied the carpet, ‘but next time don’t do it again.’ Next time, she will leave the muddy boots outside the door; forgiveness, with its enlarging capacity, will have taught her. Forgiveness is an effective teacher. Meanwhile, the spots can be washed away. But murder is irrevocable. Murder is irreversible…. Even if forgiveness restrains one from perpetrating a new batch of corpses, will the last batch come alive again?…Forgiveness is pitiless. It forgets the victim. It cultivates sensitiveness toward the murderer at the price of insensitiveness toward the victim.”

“And what of the penitent SS officer? “Let the SS man die unshriven. Let him go to hell.”

“The Jewish view can be summed up as follows: Forgiveness is almost always a virtue, but the taking of an innocent life is an unforgivable offense.”

[Source: x]

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nunonabun · 5 years

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I did love Trixie admitting she'd dated a gay man as cover once in that dismissive way she did. Because to her his sexuality didn't mean anything to her, but she didn't want him to be hurt. I know that episode had many other things to take out of it but that stood out to me, along with her saying that what would bother her wouldn't be her partners sexuality, but that they cheated. All that was important was their faithfulness.

This got quite long so I’ll put it under a cut.

This is a heck of an episode, and I think how everyone comes off in it is quite complex. There was a lot I liked about Trixie in that episode, especially her speaking up at the dinner table and saying “Well quite frankly I thought we’d fought a war over facism, and that’s what this is, telling people who they can and can’t love.” But there are also the ways in which she’s still viewing things from a heternormative POV and participating in the “othering” of gay people, as are pretty much all the straight characters in the episode (I am going with Trixie at least self-identifying as straight, in this analysis.)

When she says she couldn’t forgive Tony Amos’s actions if she were in Marie Amos’ shoes “because [Tony] cheated, I couldn’t care less who with,” that equates him acting on his sexuality outside of his straight marriage, with a straight person in a straight marriage having an affair. It puts the blame for Tony’s affair fully on Tony as opposed to largely on the way heteronormativity and homophobia have forced him into that situation. It’s kind of like an “I don’t see colour,” but with sexuality; a disregard of how the oppression a person faces factors into their actions. That’s not to say it doesn’t truly harm his wife as well, and it’s absolutely fine to empathize with her, but to just say it’s cheating and he’s fully wrong for cheating misunderstands the situation. Phyllis does this too, when Sister Monica Joan says crime implies someone was harmed, and nobody was in that case, Phyllis says “try putting yourself in Mrs. Amos’s shoes,” as though that somehow justifies the punishment Tony is receiving even a bit. It’s a horribly difficult situation and of course it’s valid for someone Marie’s position to feel hurt and deceived, but it’s also important not to ignore how Tony entering that marriage and breaking his vows is not a malicious deception. It’s a situation where he is under immense pressure to conform to a social norm that he would be severely punished if he broke. He’s also very likely to have gotten the message implicitly and/or explicitly that getting married to a woman would “fix” him... and then finding out he can’t repress a natural and important part of himself.

To the anecdote about the doctor she was a beard for again, it’s complicated. Trixie recounts: ”I certainly don’t mind fraulines. In fact, I provided diversionary cover for one during my training. Young doctor, melting to look at, but the other way inclined. Perfect gentleman, sadly. Without me on his arm, he would have lost his position.” One the one hand, she cared about him and helped him. On the other hand, the way she helped him was by providing the image that he did fit the norm. She helped dress up the closet door to make it look like he wasn’t in there. He probably wouldn’t have wanted her to do anything else. Society forced him into a position where, if he was out, he’d be out of a job. But it is still helping him to cover up and fit the norm as opposed to fighting the norm (Again, I know, he may not have wanted her to do that and certainly outing him to fight against it would likely have been hugely harmful, that’s not where I’m going with this. I’ll get to that in the last section of this little essay thing.) There was also something about how she told the story that was quite othering. The way she told it was as though it were an exciting anecdote, a titillating, somewhat shocking story of complicity with an Other. It wasn’t in a tone of ‘someone I knew experienced a scary, horrible encounter with bigotry and I tried to help.’ That lack of empathetic tone is kind of in line with the use of othering terms like “frauline” and “one [of them],” as well as her response to the same situation existing in nursing (”No dark secrets girls, not if you value your life. *giggles*”). I’m sure other people have other views on that conversation, but that’s how it came across to me. There’s also her conversation with Patsy where Patsy asks if she’s “the only one who doesn’t hate them, the queers,” and Trixie says “I just don’t think it’s our battle to fight,” and then changes the subject to her (straight) relationship and how to get the community to accept the straight wife of a gay man. Essentially, overall her perspective ends up being ‘yes it’s wrong that gay people are treated like that, it’s fascist to punish them for being gay, but they can conform, there’s no need to rock the boat.’ Those things I’ve discussed above are actually elements of the episode I really liked. The words and actions of each of the characters are entirely believable and consistent with who they are in the time and place they’re in. What I enjoy about these things is that I think they demonstrate how, in a homophobic & heteronormative society, even good people, even people who are against homophobia, can perpetuate it, be complicit in it, and participate in othering. Here I’m moving on to a broader reflection. I think the examination with Trixie holds, but a clearer example - and one where much more harm is done - is Patrick. Patrick expresses that “we ought to live and let live,” in his conversation with Shelagh, and he goes to court to speak in Tony’s defence, yet he prescribes chemical castration for Tony. He’s clearly very against punishing Tony for his sexuality, and the laws pressuring him to do so, but that doesn’t erase that he’s complicit in that punishment, in that horrible thing that is being done to Tony. He doesn’t stand up to it. Taking it up many notches from Trixie being a beard, Patrick expresses chemical castration being preferable as it is “more private,” again, providing a way to make a gay person conform. Also, in some ways, he buys into the established medical view of homosexuality at the time, seeming to accept that though it’s unfair Tony is being medically altered, his sexuality boils down to “urges”. He recommends that Tony focus on the joy of his child and basically just try his best to conform, and that will be enough. Another example of that is of course with Fred, looking reluctant and expressing apology for kick Tony out of the Civic Defense Corps but still doing it. I wouldn’t count Peter exactly because he set up the honeytrap and is more than just complicit, though he is also an example of how ingrained social hatred can lead to otherwise good people being cruel and utterly shutting off their compassion and empathy. There are also subtler ways like Shelagh, who seems to sit on the fence about accepting gay people, and others Tony in her language (asking how Tony can be “that way”, and if Patrick has met “many others”). And there’s Sister Julienne steadfastly not offering support and deferring to social views of the time (”a judge will try Mr. Amos, not us”). I’d argue those are forms of participation in homophobia, because not challenging bigotry when it’s presented to you is a form of tacit acceptance. The negative side of the refusal to judge that Sister Julienne is so often lauded for is pretty clear here. As Patsy communicates when she asks “who will [fight the battle for gay equality] then?” in her conversation with Trixie, if people chose to be bystanders to bigotry, how will we truly, meaningfully change society? This episode highlights not only how explicit enforcement of structures of oppression is deeply harmful, but how insidious those views are, present to some degree even in good people and even in those who explicitly reject it; how its subtler forms are still harmful, and how “tolerance” of the group being othered is still complicity in the oppression. I mean, I think that’s quite undercut but the whole ‘rat cull’ parallel subplot that communicates ‘it’s alright not to like them for their identity so long as you acknowledge their right to exist,’ but if I disregard that and just focus on the gay plot, that’s what I get.

Anyways, sorry, my thoughts ran away with me there, I have lots of thoughts and feelings about CtM 4x03. Not at all trying to rain on your reading of it, anon, different readings/aspects of a thing can stand out/be meaningful to different people, and I definitely agree Trixie has some strong moments. But I think it’s also interesting to look at the variety of ways homophobia & heteronormativity are present in people and are presented. And of course, those themes and messages are all too important in our present world as well.

#Call the Midwife #CtM s4e03 #Trixie Franklin #cw: homophobia #Anonymous

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 5 years

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CSUAVS prt 3... I'm tired of world building already

Returning to his ship in an angry daze, Kosmo had tried to climb into his lap feeling dejected from Lance's lack of attention. Keith... he just couldn't understand. Sitting on his thin bed, he glared down at Lance's communicator in annoyance as replayed their conversation in his mind. Maybe entering Lance's room had been a touch too far, but the anger he'd shown was way out of proportion. And what did he even mean that Earth wasn't his home anymore. From the moment they first reached the castle, Lance had been dying to return to his family... And what did he mean Shiro had already retired to be with Curtis? None of it made any sense. He'd wanted to see his best friend again, but said best friend seemed to genuinely hate him... And what was with his lack of marks? Was it make up? The more he thought about it, the more his mood worsened, the communicator in his hands threatened to break if he applied any more pressure to thin device. Fuck it. Fuck Lance. It wasn't like he didn't have enough on his mind as it was. He still had no leads over Guile. He'd found his best friend and long time crush living in a fucking brothel, getting up to gods know what and he has the nerve to get mad when Keith makes the effort?! Not caring he was invading Lance's privacy, Keith thumbed over the communicators surface. If Lance wasn't going to tell him what the quiznak was going on, he'd have to investigate himself. He had to know... he had to know if it was personal, or if Lance had snubbed the rest of the team in the same manner as he'd done him. Opening his call logs, he scrolled through the list. Each Earth Sunday, he called Veronica. In fact, Veronica seemed to be the most called person on his phone. Next was his mother, listed under "Mama", presumably a blanket name for his family, phone calls home seemed to happen once every two movements lasting for at least a varga each time, though they were also the most missed calls on the device. If Lance was phoning home, then why was his parents so worried? It didn't make sense. Closing his call log, he opened Lance's messages. Veronica's name popping up first, marked with 5 unread messages. Next was his mother again... then Hunk, Pidge, and Shiro, but the dates on these messages were far older, three or so phoebs ago. Frowning, this wasn't the Lance he knew. Lance always liked to check in. He always liked to know everyone was alright. Opening Shiro's message thread, his heart fell when he read what was there. Four times Lance had tried to reach out to Shiro, each time asking "how he was" or "what he'd been up to", only for Shiro to reply each time that he was "sorry, but couldn't talk at the moment". Growling slightly, he closed the thread to open Pidge's, only to find it reading more or less the same thing. The cherry on the top was Hunk's thread. Lance had been encouraging him and Shay, telling Hunk to "go for it", and that he was "an amazing catch anyone would be lucky to have", only, the messages had tapered off to exactly the same thing as what had happened with Shiro and Pidge. Closing out of the thread, he scrolled down further to find he hadn't messaged Lance, or replied to his messages either in over four phoebs. They'd spoken via calls, but the messages thing... He honestly hadn't realised it'd been so long. Flicking back to the call log, he felt sick when he did the maths, Lance had hardly been involved in any of the teams movemently calls. By trying to give Lance space, he'd inadvertently shut the man out completely. If he was Lance, he'd be pretty pissed too, especially when they'd gone through all of this before on their return journey back to Earth. None of them meant it maliciously. People simply got busy with life, but for Lance, Voltron had always been a cruel test of self worth when the Red Paladin had absolutely nothing to prove to any of them. He was the one Keith trusted to watch his back. To question his judgement and to pull him back into line when he fucked up as leader of the group. He'd thought he was doing better. He knew he was doing better. He'd been able to work through so many things when stranded on the space whale with his mother, but the one person who deserved his attention, who'd always tried to make him feel welcome in his own stupid ways, had slipped right through the cracks. It was a bitter pill to swallow. He had to see Lance again. He had to let him know he was quiznakking idiot and that he was sorry. That... even if Lance didn't have those kinds of feelings for him, he still wanted him in his life. Flopping back on his bed, Kosmo crawled up to drop his head down Keith's chest with a sad whine "Sorry, boy. It's me he's mad at. He's been out here for months, and none of seem to care. He didn't want to come back out here. He was happy back on Earth and I thought I could live with that... but he's not ok... I know I'm supposed to be concentrating on Guile... but how do I leave him like this? How do I leave him when he's hurting? He goes above and beyond for all of us, and what do we do? We don't even bother to reply to his messages. I must have seemed like the biggest arsehole in the universe turning up out of nowhere and asking his help like I haven't been ignoring him" Whining at him, he took it to mean Kosmo agreed "We should go apologise. I need to return his communicator too... He's going to be pissed when he realises I have it... Maybe I should return it before he comes back from work? That way he won't know... Why wouldn't he talk to me?" A drunken unremembered night wasn't enough to ruin the bond they'd formed was it? Or was something else weighing on Lance's mind? When his own communicator started ringing, he jumped violently enough for Kosmo to teleport away in fear. Pulling up his mother's call, he sighed as she saw right through his unhappy expression "What happened?" "Erathus" "Hold on a tick" Catching sight of Axca and Kolivan, the last thing he wanted was an audience to his stupidity. Leaving the control room, his mother was soon back with the same concerned look on her face "Is something wrong?" "I fucked up" "Language" "Fine. I stuffed up so quiznakking royally, I don't know how to fix it" "Explain" "None of have been talking to Lance. I didn't even realise how much time had passed and he wasn't exactly happy to see me" "Did he say so?" "Pretty much. I don't think he meant to force his communicator on me, but he tried talking to all of us, only for us to brush him off. Each time. Finally, he stopped and none of us realised" "Keith, there's still so much to clean up. Ten thousand years of tyrant cannot be fixed in a few short years" "But... this is Lance. He literally got himself blown up like the first day he met Coran protecting him. He'd do the same for any of us, and we... Especially with Allura. Now I've shown up asking for a favour. No wonder he's so mad" "Did you try explaining how busy you've been?" "I didn't get the chance, he was on his way to work and I don't think he appreciated me letting myself into his room" "Keith" "It wasn't my fault. Kosmo had to sniff him out because he wasn't listed on the guest registry of the..." He couldn't say brothel, that'd only make things worse "... hotel he's been staying at. The door opened before I could knock, and when I called I got no answer" Sighing heavily, his mother shook her head "Alright. What about Guile?" "Nothing. Nothing on Thatus. Nothing from the rebel camps, or the planets I stopped by" "I'll speak to Kolivan over how he wants to proceed. I can already tell what you want to do next" "Even if it's just for a quintant, I want to talk to him. Make sure he's doing better than it seems" "I know you care deeply for him, but you need to be prepared to accept that he might not feel the same way about you, as you do about him" Keith's face reddened "Mum!" "I'm just saying..." "I know exactly what you're saying. I've already accepted it, I just want to know he's ok and apologise for ignoring him without intending to" "Alright. Call me. You might be worried about him, but I'm worried about you" "I know, mum. I'll check in tomorrow" "Be safe" "Yeah, yeah. I love you too" Ending the call, Keith closed his eyes. This wasn't how his vacation was supposed to be going at all. * Leaving Kosmo in his ship Keith found something more appropriate to wear back to the club in the form of a plain black shirt, black skinny jeans, and his black boots. Highly unoriginal, yet enough that looked more touristy than he had previously. With Lance's communicator in his pocket, Keith was armed with an apology and the hope Lance would let him get everything off his chest without yelling again. He'd had feelings for Lance so long that it'd been honestly painful to give his best friend the support and push he'd needed to pursue Allura, despite how she'd treated his best friend. Lance had worshipped the ground the princess had walked on. He'd been brushed aside over and over again, forced to watch her fall in love with Lotor, the forced to watch as Lotor tore her heart out. He wasn't naive enough to believe that Allura was incapable of getting over her feelings for him, it was just... on Earth all she'd been preoccupied with was spending every waking moment waiting for the robeast pilot to awaken, then suddenly she was as keen on Lance as he'd been on her since day one. Lance had worried himself sick over their date, coming to him of all people for reassurance. Watching the sunset, he'd desperately wanted to tell Lance not to go through with it all, lying to himself that as long as Lance was happy he could be too. Making his way back to the club, the never ending tide of people streaming through the streets hadn't seemed to abated in the slightest, even 12 vargas later. The city illuminated in every colour rainbow as adverts played on massive screens for things he'd never even heard of. Small walkways he'd never noticed that morning now lit up, advertising casinos or clubs, and all manner of entertainment. A person really could find something here to satisfy that itch of perversion each tourist seemed to carry silently on their shoulders. He hated it all. Clubbing wasn't his scene, or maybe clubbing alone wasn't his scene. He hadn't had the most practical of childhoods, or atypical teenager life. The years most spent experimenting were lost to him on the space whale, yet he couldn't bring himself to regret a single moment of the time spent getting to know his mother. The time has softened his sharp edges, giving him a whole new perspective on life. Letting himself into the club, he skipped the front desk as he headed for the main dance floor, aliens of every race all dancing and mingling as unidentifiable music played over the speaker system. Whatever it was, the atmosphere was soaked with sex in the air. Ordering himself a drink really didn't seem worth it, yet without Kosmo to teleport him up to the second level, he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. The building clearly had more than two levels, the roof not visible from street height at all, yet if he did attempt to enter at higher level it might eventuate in him causing a scene that could cost Lance his precious job. Positioning himself at the end of the counter, he ignored the way his drink glowed a soft green as he opened his communicator to pull up the buildings security data. "Is this seat taken?" In his own world, Keith didn't realise he was being talked to. He'd found the schematics to the buildings air duct system, the main turbines on the 95th floor... There were smaller outlet shafts at ground level around the back of the building, but they tapered down to a size that he'd have to be a mouse to get through, completely ruining all chances of using the ducts to reach Lance's room. For someone who loved space and the starts, he was surprised Lance didn't want to be closer to them. Feeling a tug on his arm, he was pulled back reality. A young female alien with four arms and far too much make up was staring down at him "Sorry?" "I asked if this seat was taken?" "No?" Turning back to his communicator, his arm was tugged on again "You're not very good at flirting, are you?" He was being flirted with? "Sorry, I'm..." "What? You think you're going to sit there and act like you're too good for me?!" "No, it's..." "It's what? Is there something wrong with me?" Other than the fact she wasn't Lance? Or the fact she looked as if she'd bathed in her makeup before leaving her room? "No. I..." Yelling something at him in something that must have been her native tongue, Keith sat there in shock as stormed off. He hadn't even done anything, and it wasn't like he'd asked for any of that to happen. Fuck it. He was on a mission to find a way up to Lance's room while bypassing the bouncers that guarded the second floor. It was time for diversionary tactics. If he couldn't awkwardly people his way through this, then he'd have to Blade of Marmora his way through instead. Pulling up the building schematics again, he pulled up the power grid, thanking Pidge yet again that her program made everything far too easy. With a few taps, there was a smirk on his lips as the lighting behind the bar went out, the bar tenders visibly confused as customers grew angry over their inability to drink themselves even stupider. The first punch thrown under up with the offender hurled over the bar, from the way the staff simply sidestepped the commotion Keith was left wondering how many times brawls had resulted in the same thing happening. As the two bouncers moved to break up the fight, he restored power to the bar before draining his drink and slipping through the warm bodies on the dance floor. He hadn't intended on a brawl, but damn it'd been effective. The second floor was illuminated differently as Keith walked the passage. Some doors lit with an aqua light above sensor strips to the right of them, some lit with red. Given he didn't know what the aqua or red lights were about he wasn't even going to speculate what the yellow or light green ones meant, despite the fact the light above the sensor strip to Lance's room was glowing yellow. Lifting his hand, he waited like he had that morning, hoping that when the door opened Lance wouldn't be there and he'd be able to return the communicator without him noticing. After that, he'd slip back down into the club and message Lance over catching up. It wasn't like he didn't have time to waste now that his mother had Kolivan preoccupied. Taking a few moments, the door slid open silently to reveal the brightly lit interior of Lance's room. The lights from the street spilling in to cast patterns across the ceiling which were pretty in their own way, yet left him with a kind of hollow feeling in his chest. All this life was going on around Lance, so why was his room so devoid of it all? Shaking his head, he scolded himself. He'd already snooped enough by going through Lance's phone. Anything else he wanted to know had to come from Lance himself. It was only right, and he wasn't hearing the full story with the sideways stalking of him. Striding across the room he fished out lance's communicator from his pocket, so he could carefully place it back down from where Lance had retrieved it earlier. Turning back towards the door he knew he had to leave, but... if he did, would Lance answer him when he messaged? In all likelihood, he probably wouldn't. They'd moved past that in their relationship. But maybe he would? It'd been vargas since he'd turned up on Lance's doorstep, enough time for Lance to process that he was there and wanted to talk... Quiznak. Why was it that Lance turned him into such a bundle of uncertainty? Crossing back towards the door, there was a solid thud against it from the otherside, followed by a soft laugh that could have only been Lance's. Keith's heart leapt at the sound, only for it to fall when a gruff voice joined it. Lance was laughing with someone else... and he was about to be sprung in Lance's room all over again. Slightly panicked, he did the only thing he could and threw himself at the bathroom door, it sliding back with a soft whoosh as he drew his blade and darted inside, hitting the door panel to close it as the main door to the apartment opened, wedging his blade between the door and the frame, his stalkerish ways hitting a whole new level as he watched through the gap. Laughing and giggling, Lance had his legs wrapped around a Galra, a second one crowding from behind, the mood between the three of them flirtatious enough for Keith to step back. He didn't want to see this, but he couldn't look away. "Slow down... mmm, just like that" Watching both Galra mouth at lance's neck, Lance moaned for more, the one behind him ripping off the man's shirt causing Lance to giggle even more "Did no ever teach you patience?" "No" Laughing like it was the most hilarious thing he'd ever heard, Lance was cut short as he carried over to his bed and dropped down. Crawling up the covers he soon disappeared from view, yet his voice carried well "Come here, papi. I haven't had a Galra in a while..." Lance was... he was... no... "We're going to fuck you until you can't walk" "Just the way I like it" He could hear the wink in Lance's voice, followed by a rustling of cloth. Moving out of the way to undo their pants, Lance was down to his boxer briefs, long caramel legs spread as he reached out for both Galra... "That's right... come here... I'm going to make you both feel so good..." Covering his mouth to stifle his breathing, Keith was murderous. Lance shouldn't be... not with... it was stupidly romantic, just like Lance was, but Lance should only be having sex with the person he loved. Someone to treasure him. Someone who wouldn't pay him and leave him. Closing his eyes, he willed his breathing to calm, opening them as Lance let out a particularly loud moan. He was going to die right here. Lance would causally walk into he bathroom and find him dead right there. Keith. Killed by his embarrassment caused by stalkerish ways because he couldn't simply grow a pair and ask Lance out properly. What a way to die. "Slow down, papi... we have all night and this little pup is going to be such a good boy for you both" Drawing both Galra close, Lance traded kisses between the pair, before reaching under his pillow with both hands. The pair of Galra growling as he did "It's ok. We humans need a little help to loosen up down there..." The next moment brought a flurry of action on Lance's end. One moment he was moaning, the next he was tearing two black tranquilliser guns out from under his pillows, both finding their marks against the necks of the two Galra hovering over Lance. It was only a tick before the purple liquid in both had been depressed into the Galra's necks and the pair were scrambling backwards off him Lance, holding the wound site as they glared down at him "Have a nice nap boys" Collapsing down the bigger of the pair cursed "Leandro", promising to "tear his throat out of if he ever saw him again". Lance wasn't phased at all. Climbing from his bed, he made his way to his kitchen where he opened the top draw to withdraw another communicator. This one black in comparison to the orange one Keith had snooped through before "LEA. 2D. NMTN. NCN. RTN. PHNPHS. TS" What was that supposed to mean? Why was Lance listing off a bunch of weird letters and looking so bored about it all as he did. Whatever it meant, that was all there was to the call. Pausing to retrieve a gown from his walk-in-robe, Lance moved to his bedside table where he retrieved two pairs of cuffs. Cuffing both Galra with a sigh, he gave each of them a kick to the side for good measure before dropping back down on the side of his bed. There were plenty of times in Keith's life where he couldn't find the words to say what he wanted, but right now, he wasn't even sure he knew what words were. Through the crack in the door he was forced to watch as Lance pulled the tranquilliser vial from the gun, then slid a softly glowing yellow one into place and held it to his thigh, openly injecting himself with whatever was in there. Placing the gun back down, he then rose to walk over to the kitchen. Keith couldn't... Sinking down onto the toilet, Keith buried his face in his hands. None of this made any sense in any way, shape or form. Lance didn't do drugs. He didn't go around luring Galra back to his bed only to drug them. And who was on the other end of that call? Left to stew a few doboshes passed before there was knock at lance's door and he found himself back on his feet spying all over again. Nodding at Lance, the man in charge of what seemed to be five aliens of the same species as the bouncers downstairs passed Lance a package silently while his goons gathered up the two unconscious Galra. The exchange silent. The group walking out the room like it was an everyday occurrence... "You're welcome! Jodido policia..." Policia... was police. He enough Spanish to know that. That was the police? They didn't look terribly police like, and with all the run ins he had, he really well and truly knew what police officers looked like. The police wanted those two Galra and what... Lance was working with them? Hadn't he been working as a bodyguard? Or had Hunk got it all wrong and assumed a job in security had meant bodyguard? Absolutely every single of one his questions could be answered if he simply burst from the bathroom right now to ask. Instead he sank back down on the toilet. What the Quiznak was all of this?! * Still trapped in the bathroom, Keith waited with bated breath. Lance was grumbling over something, drawing his attention back to sliver in the door. Obviously oblivious to the fact he was being watched, Lance went about getting changed into an outfit that could barely be called an outfit. He was covered, but that was about it. His outfit skintight leaving nothing to imagination. Settling down on his sofa, he tapped away on his black communicator, pulling up a holocall with someone he didn't recognise, talking for a few ticks, Lance was all smiles, grabbing his jacket and making for the door as he promised "he'd be right down". Now would have been the time to say something, Lance passing within millimetres of the bathroom door before disappearing out the main door like he hadn't just assisted in the capture of two over handsy Galra that Keith wouldn't mind spending 5 minutes unsupervised and alone with. Now that the apartment was cleared of Lance's presence, he was going to get some damn answers. Starting in the bathroom, he didn't like what he saw. Bloodied bandages. Bottles of red and blue pills. A small black box filled with those same yellow vials. If he was going to stalk Lance, he might as well go all out. He couldn't help Lance if he didn't understand what he was looking at, and what was a little stealing between friends? Popping the covers on both bottles of pills, he shook two of each out, then replaced them carefully. A quick check of the draw beneath revealed another one of those black boxes, this one half empty making it easier to steal a few tubes without Lance noticing. Pausing as he slipped the "borrowed" items into his pocket, he took a deep breath. Was he really going to do this? And was it really... what if he... what if whatever this was, was exactly what he was thinking it was? The drugs. Throwing himself at random strangers? Drugging them? Living in a club... that was actually a brothel... Did Veronica know? No. Veronica couldn't. She would have dragged Lance out of here the moment she'd heard. Something he too should be doing... But with all Lance had been through, he deserved the benefit of the doubt. Slipping out of Lance's room, the man in question was walking back along the hall with a male he didn't recognise. Attempting to appear casual, Keith went to lean on the door, only to remember at the last moment that the doors here opened automatically, leaving him cringing internally as his shoulder his the wall. Whatever Lance was saying was broken off when he realised Keith was standing there, a frown passing over his lips before being replaced with a clearly fake smile. The "friend" he was with didn't look too happy that whatever had been about to happen had no been waylaid "Keith? What are you doing in front of my room?" The weight of the pills in his pocket seemed to grow exponentially "Hey, man..." His internal flinching growing at the slighter higher pitch of his voice "... I just came by to... uh... apologise about earlier. It came across wrong. I mean, I do need your help, but that was secondary" Lance brightened up. His posture taller and his smile less fake "It's fine. It wasn't a good time, work and all that..." "Yeah?" "Yeah, man. It's all good. I'm actually in the middle of something... but we should talk?" "That would be nice. I'm heading off again tonight, but I'll call you?" Lance nodded, though that tinge of real smile was gone again "Sounds good. If you remember to send me those files, I'll take a look" "Are you sure?" "Can't let my down the former leader of Voltron, can I?" If it was Hunk, Lance would have been joking how he couldn't let down his "best bud" "Yeah. I'll let you get back to it" "Thanks. I'll be waiting for that call" "I've actually got some time off, so I promise not to forget" Forcing himself off the wall and to walk past Lance, the sweet scent of flowers met his nose in the moment their shoulders brushed. Lance had always taken care of himself, so no doubt he was reading everything wrong.

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