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dwellordream · 3 years

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“…Being a damsel was a specific job. It meant that you were a lady in waiting in a house that was not your own. A lot of the time the period of service would kick in around about thirteen when families had educated their daughters to a level that was deemed sufficient. The next step of their education was to get refined and ladified, so they would get shipped to live with another, usually richer and more powerful, family.

Damsels did all sorts of work. They embroidered and helped with cloth production. They made their lady’s bed. They took messages to other rich people if their mistresses didn’t feel like going themselves. In general, they made themselves useful in whatever way was best. In return, they learned how great houses were run, made contacts among the aristocracy, and hopefully made a good impression so that they could secure a marriage with a nice (rich) young man as well.

Anyway the thing about being a damsel, as my patron Max (shout out!) pointed out, is that the main sort of work you did was essentially being an inverse influencer.

This is because the major thing that damsels did was be very conspicuously pretty, well dressed, and hanging out with the woman that they were serving, especially in ceremonial circumstances. Phillips notes, for example, that Dame Katherine Grey and Mistress Ditton served at Elizabeth of York’s (1466-1503) coronation in 1487 by going “under the table where they sat on either side of the Queen’s feet all the dinner time.” Similarly, the Countesses of Oxford and Rivers “kneeled on either side of the Queen, and at certain times held a kerchief before her Grace”.[2]

Now this is an extremely specific (and weird) flex. What Elizabeth was showing was that she was surrounded by hot important chicks at all times. She had so many hot important chicks around her that they just hung out to pass her a napkin when she needed it. Hell, she had hot important chicks sitting under the table where you can’t even see them just because she can. It’s like a late medieval version of a selfie full of Instagram baddies and a caption that says, “Quiet Tuesday in with these idiots, yawn.”

The point of having a bunch of damsels around you was to create a spectacle which highlighted the woman in charge. She looks very feminine and very powerful because she has lots of feminine powerful women surrounding her and serving her. In return, the damsels get to be a part of the spectacle and prove that they are well connected and feminine enough to be used in this manner. It’s a form of display and you, peasant, are meant to be very very impressed by it. So basically, a powerful lady or queen with a large retinue is running a hype house. I will not be apologizing for this analogy, thanks.

This is interesting though, because it acts in a sort of reverse way from how influencers work now. Influencers are, of course, expected to be extremely hot, and usually conspicuously feminine when they are women. When we have to deal with every white girl in the world in a pair of suede boots at a pumpkin patch every autumn they are acting out a specific form of girly-girlness that we are meant to recognise, respect, and respond to.

However, unlike damsels which are meant to make it clear that someone is very important, and indeed much more important than their audience, influencers have to make their audiences feel as though they are actually friends. Yes, they are standing in a million-dollar beach house in a three-hundred-dollar bikini, but maybe you could be there too with them! The only thing preventing you from doing so is buying X product which will make you just like them.

…So the difference is that influencers are attempting to create what we in the analysing society game refer to as “parasocial relationships”. That’s a technical way of saying when you feel like you have a relationship with someone based off of their media output. So, you know like how you feel that you are friends with the people who are on your favourite podcast? That is a parasocial relationship and that is what influencers do. This is in stark contrast with damsels and ladies’ courts who are extremely on a Mean Girls vibe and doing “on Wednesdays we wear pink” in front of an audience who knows that they, decisively, cannot sit with them.

Hilariously in both the medieval and modern contexts, whether the women in question are letting you know you are not friends, are trying to make you think that you are, the pretty ladies doing the display make some people very very sad. Phillips notes that in the fourteenth-century Book of Vices and Virtues it was written that damsels wearing pretty clothes were in mortal danger of their souls, both because they were vain and because they inspired lechery in the dudes who saw them. It reads:

“To behold these ladies and these maidens and damsels arrayed and appareled, that often [time] apparel them more quaintly and gaily for to make [foolish] lookers to look on them and [think] not to do great sin … But certainly they sin well grievously, for they make and be the cause of loss of many souls, and where-through many men are dead and fall into great sin; for men say in old proverbs, ‘Ladies of rich and gay apparel are arrow blast [against] the tower.’ For she has no member on her body that is not a [snare] of the devil, as Solomon says, wherefore they must yield accounts at the day of doom of all the souls that by reason of them are damned.”[3]

In other words, the damsels at court might think there is nothing wrong with being conspicuously hot in public, but in fact, it is very sinful because it creates a sinful society and encourages lust in men. TL/DR: dressing up in public means that you are in league with the devil.

…This is important to note because both medieval European society and our society now have a clearly very fraught relationship with women displaying themselves in public. The attempt to control gaze both then and now has some very visceral reactions. It can make people feel awe, or build entire relationships in their mind. It can also enrage people to the point that they condemn these women even though, and this is crucial, in neither case were they actually in a relationship with their audiences.

The important thing to take away from all of this is that women being put on display, and using that to wield power, is a very old practice. What has changed over time is the way that display is focused. Medieval people used it to keep others as an outgroup, and people now use it to make outsiders feel as though they are in. Overall, the goal is the same: accruing power, prestige, and respect to the woman who is in control of her image. This often results in backlash but the thing about it is that the world has yet to end because a bunch of hot chicks hung out one time and then someone felt bad about themselves.

Do I think that either iteration of hyper-feminine display is necessarily laudable? Not especially. I am just saying it is a constant feature in our society, and if you want to get rid of it, then we need to rethink our approach to femininity more generally. Until we can offer women more ways to gain prestige, we are gonna keep going back to old reliable: being conventionally attractive. I find it hard to get mad about that.

- Dr. Eleanor Janega, “On damsels and influencers.”

#ladies in waiting #noblewomen #medieval #history #eleanor janega

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shadowqueen402 · 2 years

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Hola! Can you do a fic where Leo gets magic hiccups (due to eating a Wonderworld fruit) and the other inhabitants try to help him cure it

Teehee! Not gonna lie, the idea of Leo getting hiccups from eating something he shouldn't is hilarious. Anyways, here's the fic.

During his time in Wonderworld, Leo felt himself starting to get really hungry. He decided to go look for something to snack on. After some searching he found a bowl of a strange fruit that he had never seen before.

The fruit was in the same colors as the drops that he and Emma would feed to the Tims. Except that they were the size of mangoes. Leo took a red fruit out of the bowl and examined it. A part of him wanted to ask Balan what this fruit was.

But there was a part of him that still wanted to eat. With a shrug, Leo bit down onto the fruit and chewed onto the piece. The fruit tasted sweet, like cotton candy. And the texture resembled that of custard.

Leo felt himself savoring the fruit bite after bite. It really was such a delectable treat to have. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the Tims staring at him for some reason. But he shrugged and went back to eating until he finished it all.

Leo was about to reach for another fruit when he suddenly let out a hiccup. But this hiccup...turned his skin as cyan as some of the drops. Emma came into the room. "Hey, Leo? Have you seen—," She stopped and gasped at what she was seeing. "Leo, what happened to you?"

"Huh, what do you mean?" Leo asked, turning to face her. He let out another hiccup, only for his skin to turn pink instead. Emma's shocked face didn't falter a bit. Instead, she stood as still as a statue.

"Your skin!" She said. "It was cyan, but when you hicccuped, it turned pink! Look in the mirror!" Emma pointed to a nearby mirror. Leo was confused, but he looked in the mirror as well.

To his shock, his entire body, except for his hair and eyes, was pink. "What the—!?" He asked. "How did this happen!?"

"Did you have anything before this happened?" Emma asked Leo. "Please be honest, Leo."

"Just a fruit that was in that bowl over there," Leo said. "I was getting hungry, so I helped myself to those drop-shaped fruit. I only had one, but that was it."

Emma looked at the fruit and eyed them cautiously. "Balan's never told us about these fruit," She said. "We need to find him and ask how we can get you back to normal."

Leo shrugged before following Emma out of the room. The two began to look for Balan, in desperate need of help. The Tims followed the two teens, wanting to see Balan as well.

They found Balan outside on the Isle of Tims. Atillio turned to the two and waved. "Hey, Emma," He greeted. "And... Leo, what happened to your skin?" Balan and the others turned, shock etching their faces as they saw Leo's pink skin.

Leo let out another hiccup. This time, his skin turned yellow. Only his clothes and blue eyes stood out. "Please tell me that's makeup, darling," Lucy said, growing concerned.

"It's not makeup," Emma explained. "Leo ate a fruit and suddenly, whenever he hiccups, his skin changes color."

"Would it be the fruit in the bowl that you're talking about?" Balan asked. "Hopefully, I'll be able to figure this out."

"Yes, I ate a fruit from that bowl," Leo admitted. "Was I supposed to?"

"I am afraid not, little one," Balan said, shaking his head. "Any Visitor that eats Wonderworld fruit will experience side effects which are far from fun."

"Wonderworld fruit?" Leo asked. "What's that?"

"Fruit that grows in Wonderworld all year round," Balan explained. "Even in the chapters they can be found. They're a delicacy for Tims and Negati to eat. Indeed, even Lance and I have them as a treat."

"Is there a way that we can cure him?" Cass asked Balan.

"In order for us to cure Leo of his condition," Balan said, "we must first collect the leaves of the Tim Traps as they help with nutrition."

"I have those flowers in my chapter," Haoyu said, standing up. "I'll collect some and bring them back to you." Haoyu turned around and went to his chapter.

"The second ingredient is easy to find," Balan said. "A drop of every color, ones that I must grind."

"I'm helping Yuri find some," Jose said. "Back in a bit." He and Yuri left and went to their chapters."

"And the final ingredient will help the best," Balan said. "A glass of water and a bit of rest."

"Let me get some water," Fiona said. She went to her chapter to go get water.

"Why do I have a feeling that I won't like the taste?" Leo asked. He hiccuped again and his skin turned red.

"Don't know," Eis said with a shrug of his shoulders. "But we're going to do our best to cure you."

"It's okay to be scared, Leo," Sana assured. "We're here so it will be over before you know it."

"I'm not scared," Leo pouted, crossing his arms stubbornly. He hiccuped again and his skin turned purple.

Suffice to say, when the others came back with the ingredients, Balan created the cure. He now held a vial of a sparkling purple liquid.

"That looks unappetizing," Leo said, narrowing his eyes at it. "Are you sure that it's safe?"

"It has to be," Iben said. "Taking it is the only way to get better, Leo."

Leo sighed and took the vial. When he drank the liquid in one gulp, his face was filled with disgust. "Yuck!" He said. "How can this be edible!? How can—!?" He never got to finish. Instead, he collapsed onto the ground, eyes closed.

"Is he alright?" Bruce asked, not expecting that to happen. Cal rushed over to check Leo out.

"He's fine," He said, breathing a sigh of relief. "Leo's just passed out from the liquid he drank. That's all."

"I think Leo learned his lesson," Emma said, causing the Inhabitants to nod in agreement.

And Leo did. He never ate a Wonderworld fruit again.

#balan wonderworld #fanfic #balan #yuri brand #emma cole #lucy wong #cal suresh #eis glover #sana hudson #iben bia #bruce stone #attilio caccini #cass milligan #jose gallard #fiona demetria #haoyu chang #leo craig

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simonalkenmayer · 2 years

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You made and lost friends during the experiment. I guess you did. Im not sure what your emotions are about the people you interact with but what I wanted to know is what are your feelings toward the gentle readers and will you tell any of them who you are?

I cannot be brief in my reply

There are three main types who have interacted with the experiment. There are the ones who dive in and learn all they can. There are the ones who interact with whatever they find entertaining. And then there are the ones who take up opposition. About this last group, my opinions vary. If they were polite (and by that I do not mean that they said mean, cruel, disingenuous or manipulative things in a pleasant way and then became irate when they were called out for actually being rude. I actually mean “polite”) then I don’t have any reason to denounce them or be upset. If they were rude, deceptive, manipulative, vicious, or whatever, then I choose to block and ignore them. The ones who are polite and accepted the caveat in the disclaimer: you don’t have to believe me, but please behave toward me as if I believe me” and embraced it. And many of them have been friendly, considerate, and fun. Yes, I like them very much.

There have been a few people who have exhibited exceptional characters, strong intellect, hilarious senses of humor. In short there have been a few who have been very very good people, and I am grateful to have known them. Those people can ask of me whatever they like, and I will deliver. If that means they want to meet me, then alright. I cannot promise they’ll like it, but I can promise to be the person they’ve come to know.

But let me speak to your confusion about my emotions, because I realize my position is a strange one and often people don’t know what to make of me. Am I the character? Is it a character? And on and on the uncertainty goes. It’s a fair question. So I’ll say this:

I do not make promises unless I aim to keep them. If I say I like you, I do. If you say you like me, I accept and believe you until there’s reason to think otherwise. I may be observing bad behavior that targets me, but this doesn’t mean I will allow it to compromise my emotions about myself, my safety, the safety of others, or any group that ought to be protected. Just because you think I should entertain/heed/acknowledge you, doesn’t mean I will. I do not misrepresent my own opinions on events or issues. I do not see myself as being superior or any of that. I do not toy with people. I am here for a purpose, one which is very shortly to be modified.

So much has been made out of my opinions and actions specificity, and I confess I’ve no idea why. I am by no means a famous or important person. I am not a big blogger. My “platform” is very very small. I am not tumblr famous either. I am not a best-selling author. When I encounter someone who behaves in a bad way on social media, I might reply to their bad behavior, but I block and move on. So it’s very difficult for me to understand why anyone would write long posts or indeed an entire blog about me, or would choose me as their subject. That’s one reason I’m here. To figure out why people do such pointless things, and what it achieves for them. They obliged. That’s just who they are right now, I suppose. Hopefully they won’t always be.

One thing you’ll notice is that I’ve never argued with any of the hate bloggers opinions on topics, only their behavior toward me and others, and the reasoning they use. I don’t even know their opinions about issues, except that whatever I say is wrong. I’ve only ever been privy to their abusive behavior, so of course I have to figure out why this happens and how to stop it.

I am sure the friends I “made and lost”have a list of reasons why they don’t consider me a friend. Of course I care about the things I’ve actually done and how it affects them, but not the things they constructed or let someone construct for them. To be frank, if someone can invent a completely divergent identity that is inconsistent with six years of my behavior at the snap of their fingers, I am not entirely sure I am wholly to blame for our friendships not working out. I can only discuss things if I’m allowed to, and most of the people I “lost” walked away without warning, with no conversation, no trust given, no opportunity for an apology and none offered. As I said, I treat people as friends until I have cause not to, and so the vast majority of the people who walked away from me were friends in that context only. When they walked away, I let them. I did what I could for them. They didn’t feel it was enough. They walked away. I can do nothing about that. Some of the people who used to call me “friend” decided to then turn to bad behaviors like lying, bullying, manipulating, and so on, and those are people who were not ever my friends, so I never lost them.

I am acutely aware that my position asks a great deal from people who want to be my friend. I am aware the dynamic is an odd one. I choose to be close friends with those who have been patient with it and have trusted me to be kind, based on how I have conducted myself. In short, they already know me, even if they possibly don’t know the specifics, and so yes, I am fine to share more of myself with them and trust them to make good and be friendly.

I don’t hate anyone. I don’t hold grudges. I don’t sit and dwell in my hurt feelings once I’ve worked through them and identified the cause. If you do that, you run the risk of building that pattern into your character. Once it’s there, you seek out abuse in order to be a victim, instead of seeking to always be capable of outpacing abusive people and their habits. I have and still do offer to talk to anyone who feels they are owed an apology. I will listen to what they have to say. I will act as I have acted. I will be patient and listen. If they choose not to accept that olive branch, then I have done what I can, and they’re entitled to their path. It also understand it is infinitely easier to walk away from something that is complicated, rather than address it in a constructive way. I begrudge no one their choices. And so I will leave them to it. If they really feel their actions were correct, then their life will either prove that out or it won’t. I can’t do anything about it, nor should I.

I currently have more friends than I have enemies, to an extremely large degree. I cannot ask for more.

TL;DR So have I made real friends? Yes. Have I lost real friends? “Real friends” don’t get lost. They work to find you and stay found. Will I meet my “real friends” in person? Yes. If they want.

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physicalturian · 3 years

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[18+] Words of pleasure - Law x F!Reader - Part 5

[No spoilers] [Modern AU - College AU] [She/her pronouns used for the reader, no physical description; Everyone +18] Words : 6269 Archive of our own

Warning : Power play / Dom/sub Dynamics / Control / Stranger / Flirting / Aftercare / Awkwardness … If you feel like I should add more warnings, send me a dm or and ask

– Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

You: Sup doc, got home safely?

[You sent an attachment]

I chuckled for a second, making myself laugh at the picture of the crazy scientist from Back to the Future I had sent. Then when I looked at it more than five seconds, I just regretted it. “I should have flirted. I should have asked him if he was free soon. But I did that. Wow.” Gathering my stuff, I was expecting him to be asleep but received an answer in no time.

Trafalgar Law 😷: I’ll admit it’s creative real first text. But don’t send me that shit again, I’m not an old man.

You: Hey, it’s hilarious. You mad because you asked me to call you doc and now you regret it.

Trafalgar Law 😷: I just hope you won’t see that in your head when you’ll think of me, it can easily become a turn off, I think.

You: Damn, what if I’m into older men?

Trafalgar Law 😷: Lucky for you I’m older, then. Why are you still awake?

Trafalgar Law 😷: You should sleep, it’s late and you seemed tensed the entire evening.

You: You’re worried about me? How cute, I thought you were just looking to dick me down.

You: But I’m going to sleep soon, don’t worry hot stuff, I was just showering before bed.

You: Who knows, maybe I’ll dream of you 😉

I read my message over, and over and as I saw him type and stop a few times I was quick to send another one.

You: Yeah, ignore that. I’m tired, I’m not pushy promised. But you should sleep too, beauty sleep and all.

Trafalgar Law 😷: Depending on the kind of dreams you’re having, I’ll gladly join you.

Trafalgar Law 😷: You’re cute. I’ll sleep in a few. I still have some things to do, I’ll be sure to send you a text in the morning to ask you what you dreamed of.

You: Right, bold of you to assume I remember my dream. And that I’d share them with you.

You: But please go to bed, it’s getting super late.

[Trafalgar Law 😷sent an attachment]

Trafalgar Law 😷: I’m in bed, don’t worry.

It was stupid, but I did laugh. He was sitting against his pillows, the simple black bed panel behind him. His hair was a lot messier than usual, but he did not look sleepy one bit. And he was still wearing his dress shirt, which clearly was in no way a pajama.

You: Funny. You’re a funny guy Trafalgar Law, wow. You’re lucky you’re hot

You: You’re still fully dressed, that’s not going to sleep to me.

Trafalgar Law 😷: If you want to see me naked so bad, you have to work for it.

Trafalgar Law 😷: I did say I’d enjoy you on your knees, it seems like a good place to start. But, all in due time, right?

Chuckling at his text, I bid him a good night without replying to his innuendo which was more than an innuendo, really. Hopefully, an unspoken promise of a goodtime. I left the bathroom feeling a bit funny inside and put the toy away before sitting back on the bed. I was wearing a large shirt so that I could show my legs if the HandSurgeon asked and sat with my legs crossed on the bed before typing.

Edelweiss: Back!

HandSurgeon: Your lap is pretty red; how does it feel?

Edelweiss: it’s alright, a bit sore but I like it, it reminds me of yeah… the discipline so yeah, it’s ok

HandSurgeon: Cute, you enjoyed it quite a lot. Maybe you could take more next time if you feel like it.

HandSurgeon: But it’d mean you’d have disobeyed, which you won’t do. Correct?

Edelweiss: yes, I won’t. Sorry…

HandSurgeon: It’s alright, doll.

HandSurgeon: Is there something you enjoyed more this session? Or did not at all?

Trying to remember the things he had said during the session, I was going to tell him that everything was good until I remembered that small thing he said, that I did not particularly enjoy. I didn’t know if he was going to tell me to just get on with it and try to enjoy it or anything but trusting he wouldn’t get mad I wrote down.

Edelweiss: I really enjoyed your voice… that’s for sure but I didn’t enjoy being called a bitch in heat?

Edelweiss: it was alright right now though, but I don’t know, I didn’t vibe.

Edelweiss: sorry if you’re more of a degrader than praiser

HandSurgeon: I am sorry, I am indeed more used to be a bit rougher with my partner. I’ll be more careful next time, don’t hesitate to tell me if you don’t like something I do.

HandSurgeon: This is an exchange, we’re both in to enjoy it and have fun. And while I usually degrade, I am very much enjoying telling you how good you are. Even more so seeing how well you react.

HandSurgeon: You did good telling me your color, very good.

HandSurgeon: I believe edging was not in your list, but how did you enjoy it?

Edelweiss: soooo frustrating! And embarrassing to beg alright? But in a good way I guess… a very good way

Pondering a bit more, I was curious. If we were giving feedbacks and asking questions, I could give it a go.

Edelweiss: were you annoyed? That I touched myself.

HandSurgeon: Yes. I was. If I had you next to me, I would have brought you to my bed. I would have had you kneeling in the center, with that egg still inside you. The had you stripped down naked and would have looked at you. If you had moved, I’d strike you down. Simple.

HandSurgeon: You’d be begging in no time, really.

Edelweiss: it does sound kinda interesting though

Edelweiss: I’d definitely be up to it if you’d enjoy it

HandSurgeon: I’m sure you’d take it like very well, adding a blindfold to the mix would be even better.

HandSurgeon: You wouldn’t know when I’d strike. Jumping on the bed at the littlest touch. Goosebumps all over that pretty body of yours.

HandSurgeon: Running the tip of my whip over your skin. Barely grazing it. Then gripping the back of your neck and sliding my fingers through your hair. Pulling your head back to see that needy face of yours.

I wanted to read more of him, see what else he’d do to me. I wanted to do something again. While my sex was sore, I could also feel the throbbing coming back and fuck was I ready to ask him if he had time to do it again. My body must have been moving on the screen, since I saw the new message from the dom.

HandSurgeon: Stop fidgeting. There won’t be another session tonight, doll. I have to finish working, and you…

HandSurgeon: Well, you need to eat something and drink some water. Go get some food. We can hang up if you want, or you can leave the camera on. I would not mind the little motivation of seeing my girl on the screen.

Edelweiss: I won’t stay long, I have classes tomorrow. Lemme grab some food, I’ll be right there!

Edelweiss: but admit it, you just want to make sure I eat and drink 👀

HandSurgeon: I do indeed. Now, go.

We then spent around 20 minutes on the call. I stayed with my camera on, still making sure he could not see my face, and ate up. He would reply a bit more slowly than during our session, since he was working, but when he did it was a lot lighter than usual. We talked of our lives, previous partners, preferences but it quickly turned to other topics. TV shows we enjoyed or had in common, hobbies, pets.

I learnt he liked to sketch, mostly people, he never did art school and never wanted to but loved the human anatomy. He said he found it fascinating. I felt flattered when he suggested we find some free time so that he could draw me. I told him I’d think about it, then we changed topics but kept off the more personal ones, such as family, school and city. The less we knew, the better. It was weird, getting to know him after I had let him do as he pleased with me. But doing so made it more interesting for some reason.

I did not feel anything much for the man, but I enjoyed his company a lot. I had no plan of meeting him at all, and if I ever found someone, I’d probably stop talking to him, which is something we both agreed on. This was just to get off, this was simply to both find that pleasure of having the power dynamic in play. It was interesting, and I never thought I’d be doing this but here I was, having hung up on a stranger I should call my dom. Here I was, exhausted after masturbating for him. Following each of his instruction.

Having had a taste of that side I had never ventured on, I realized I liked it a lot and I could see myself doing it more from time to time. Maybe not all the time, but in bed it was so intriguing.

I surprised myself as I laid under my covers, slowly drifting to sleep, when a thought crossed my mind, I wonder if Law would do that… I shook the thought away, but it came back just as strong, I was curious. He would look at me with the same look he gave me all night, intrigued and yet clearly expecting all those reactions of me. Knowing what he was doing, knowing the effect he had on me. Whatever I’d say, he wouldn’t be surprised, as if he could read me. He’d ask me those same questions he did that night, trying to get me riled up and I would let him. Would I imagine him as that man from online?

Would I secretly be hoping he would be that good? Would I let him do as he pleased with me? Was I even going to go on a date with him? This last question had an answer already, we both hardly had any free time. I don’t believe we had the same schedule either, it’d be too hard. But I’d entertain the idea, it was fun. I was slightly excited if it did happen, after all he was attractive. And I could use the kind of fun he was suggesting, considering all the stress we must both be under.

Turning in bed, I pulled my phone from under my pillow and texted Law.

You: You better be asleep old doc, because I am hitting the sac. And ignoring your last text at the same time.

Trafalgar Law 😷: Shall I take that as a “no”?

You: Definitely not, but I want to know if your personality is as hot as your face, first.

You: For scientific purposes

Trafalgar Law 😷: Luckily, I did pretty well in sciences. I’ll help with your research then.

You: That means I can call you partner? Pardner 🤠 in research of a fun time

Trafalgar Law 😷: Partner of fun, if you want. Pardner, no.

You: Dagnabbit, sad cowboy noise.

Trafalgar Law 😷: I think you need sleep, partner.

You: I definitely do, good night pardner. You should sleep too, you looked fucking tired tonight.

[Trafalgar Law 😷 sent an attachment]

You: it’s pitch black?

Trafalgar Law 😷: Because I’m trying to sleep, and you keep messaging me.

You: no one’s forcing you to answer 😏 but good night pardner

Trafalgar Law 😷: Good night

I did fall asleep soon after. It was a miracle I managed to keep the conversation that long considering how tired I was and yet I was able to exchange, albeit embarrassingly, with the hot guy. I did not know why I had sent him a message- who am I kidding I know why I did that. Not only was I in that post-orgasm daze but also, this little voice in my head kept considering him as a potential something.

That something was yet to be determined, booty call? Romantic partner? Sex friend? I did not know yet, the only way to find out was that date. And perhaps, if it went well enough, the after-date part. Which I was excited about, maybe more than the date part.

This time I did not dream of the HandSurgeon, I did however have a dream about Trafalgar Law. It was not as hot as the one I had the night before… But it was something…

In that dream, I had called him out of boredom while working on some stuff, and he had picked up mildly annoyed. But even though he was annoyed, he kept me on the line while making his way to his office and closed the door behind him.

Then the mood changed, the ambiance too, the lights got slightly darker and suddenly I found myself in his office. He was leaning on his desk, arms crossed across his chest and seemingly expectant. I saw myself approach him with determination, I was but a spectator to that whole scene. I stopped right in front of him and let him grab my hands before he pulled them behind his back and turned me around so that I was now the one against the desk.

The view changed and I could see him from up close now, he was looking down at me with a smug smile. I saw his lips moving but could not comprehend what he was saying. His tattooed hand travelled to my neck, gently brushing his thumb over it before grabbing my jaw gently. He spoke again and while I did not know what he said, I felt nervous, and slightly afraid.

I tried to ask him to repeat, and maybe I did but I could not hear myself. He leaned forward and let his other hand graze the skin under my shirt before whispering. “Edelweiss… my sweet and pretty toy. So good for me.” I let my head fall back in pleasure from his touches but the constant feeling of confusion and fear only grew. I tried to understand why I was feeling like that, among the joy I felt upon hearing his word. Then it clicked.

He doesn’t know about Edelweiss- he’s not that man, he shouldn’t know.

Now I’m in my bed. Looking at a screen, I can see someone on that screen, but I can’t see it really. Then I understand who it is, HandSurgeon, but this time it’s Trafalgar Law. “You want us to be the same.”

“You wish I was real, you’re so desperate for this to happen with me, with him, we’re the same to you, Edelweiss. You should think, wake up, realize that you’re making a mistake, wake up, we can’t be the same, wake up, you just want it so bad-“

“Wake up!” I was startled awake by Nami, who was looking at me angrily, already fully dressed. “Jesus, did last night tire you that bad?” How could she know what I had done last night? She wasn’t even home- Trying to come up with anything, I was too sleepy to be embarrassed, then she spoke and cleared my mind. “You know, if I had known socializing with Traffy would tired you that much, I would have brought him over a lot sooner. Maybe you’d finally catch some real sleep.” She explained as she kept her gaze on my, probably, sleep-marks adorned face.

Sighing, she pulled the covers off my form without a second thoughts when I was unresponsive to her words. “This time you have more than 5 minutes to get ready but move your ass or I’ll leave you there. Come on, hurry.” She stopped by the door and made a compassionate face, “By the way, don’t worry, he exhausts me too. It’s the smug face and the condescending attitude that just-“ she made a sounds with her tongue against her teeth, “it ticks me off, you know?” She was gone right after.

Looking at the doorway longer than I wanted to, I started drifting off to sleep when I was startled awake once more. My phone was ringing, and I was very much aware it was not my alarm. Stretching my arm to the bed table, I grabbed my phone and was surprised when I read the screen and saw it was Trafalgar Law. I picked up in confusion, “What do you want?” With the sleepiness and the confusion, my tone ended up being a bit more aggressive than I expected.

“How about you start with good morning?” I heard him chuckle, he was probably proud of that too. Rolling my eyes, I let my head fall back on the pillow and spoke again, “Good morning, do you need something?” I sighed and pulled my covers back on my form, hearing the blinker of his car in the background I guessed he was driving and was paying more attention to the road.

“Good morning, did I perhaps wake you up?” He asked rhetorically but I could hear the smile on his lips. All I did was hum in return, still waiting for the reason he called me. “I’m free this Thursday, how does it sound for those… research?” He seemed reticent saying it, probably rolling his eyes at how stupid it sounded. Laughing in my throat in return, it was not charming but the way he said it made it too funny for my dazed state. “Too shy to call it a date? I need to check my schedule; I don’t know if I’m free.” Thinking he’d hang up, I instead heard him talk to someone before talking to me again.

“Then go ahead and check, I’ll wait.” He unbuckled his seatbelt and rummaged through something while I checked on my phone, mumbling. “Can’t you let a girl sleep? Don’t you have a work to get to?” I opened the calendar but kept grumbling while doing so, “You’re lucky I’m not hanging up to go back to sleep.” While checking my schedule, I double checked if there was a time I could be free on Thursday and heard Law scoff.

He huffed a laugh, “I think you’d have hung up by now if you did not want to talk to me, I don’t think it’s luck, but interest.” Then a sigh as he got a bit more serious, “Just answer the question, I have to get going.”

Scoffing, I brought the phone back to my ear, “You’re just a pretty face for now, Doc. Don’t bet on interest just yet. Now, I’m free around 2 pm that day, if that’s cool with you. But add like half an hour or so, it gives me time to get back home.”

“Give me the address of your campus, I’ll come and get you there.” I heard the sound of the car door being slammed closed in the background, and the rustle of a bag. “I’m not about to refuse a car ride, it’s a bit odd but thank you!” I quickly sat up, suddenly feeling excited for my plans on Thursday. “Don’t expect me to be dressed all chic though, if I have classes in the morning, it’ll be comfortable and only slightly fashion.” I said lightly as I made my way to my wardrobe to start getting dressed for the day.

“Give me a moment.” I heard the phone being moved a bit, a few muffled voices greeting the man, footsteps echoing on the ground accompanied by the hubbub of phones ringing, beeping sounds and people talking. While waiting, I was able to get dressed and go back to my desk to prepare my stuff. After a few minutes, I finally heard him. “You were talking about your clothes, to be honest as long as it’s easy to remove, we’re good.” He said smoothly, I could hear the smirk, the smugness in his voice.

I simply looked at the phone with surprise and pleasantness. That was interesting to say the least, and I was enjoying it. “You’re not saying anything, I’m assuming you agree. Good, then I’ll see you on Thursday? Don’t be afraid to send me pictures if you’re curious about what clothes to wear, I’d gladly help you pick.” I had to stand my ground, he was too smooth. Too much, too flirty, too… familiar…?

“Just for that, I’ll wear the most intricate clothes I have. Make it worth your while, you know?” While his laugh was beautiful, it was also condescending. I kept having mixt feelings about the man. “Well, if I am in a hurry, know that I am very skilled with sharp tools, and I’d have no shame in tearing your pretty clothes apart.” The sound of the creaking chair in the background made me think he was probably leaning back on his chair. A quick thought crossed my mind, of going up to him and sitting on his lap and seeing what he’d do, but I shoved that thought away.

Instead, I huffed in response and threw my bag over my shoulder. I tried to come up with a witty reply, making lame sounds with my mouth, but I had no matching energy. Even less this early in the morning. “Alright, sure, you win. I was not going to wear anything intricate anyway, even I’m too lazy for that. Casual it is, so don’t go looking all professional on me, please. I’ll feel off.”

“Put it on my desk, I’ll be there in a few- it’s an important call, I’m sure he can wait five more minutes… He doesn’t have a choice, tell him to wait… Intern or not you can tell him to wait, how else do you expect to be taken seriously? … Well, tell him I am the one who said that, then, Tony... Right, now go- And close the door behind.” I felt bad eavesdropping like that, it wasn’t a conversation I was meant to hear but it did not seem like any important information had been shared either. Except the fact that he said this was an important call when it clearly was not. It sent pride to my chest.

Walking to the kitchen, I made a motion with my index to my lips to Robin and Nami when they started talking a bit too loud. I pointed at the phone, then wiggled my fingers before drawing an invisible circle on the back of my hand. I tried very hard to make them understand it was Law, but they seemed confused. Instead, I held my phone between my shoulder and my ear and spelled Law with both of my hands. This time they understood, I knew it from the huge grin on their face.

“We got interrupted, sorry about that. If you feel intimated by a professional look, I guess we’ll have to drop by my place before going on that date. Do tell me if you’d rather I keep the medical coat-“ Cutting him off, I needed to set things straight. “Hey, I never said that was my cup of tea, okay? And I’m not intimidated, I’m sure you’re rocking the look- “ I never sighed more loudly than at this very moment when Nami snatched the phone from my hand, and said, “Alright asshole, time’s up, you’ve had time to work your charm… no I’m not doing that”

Robin butted in next to the microphone and said, “She’s all flustered, Traffy, good work!” I went to grab it back from the ginger’s hands but the stepped back and exchanged a few words with Law before handing me my phone back with a bright smile. Bringing it back to my ear, I rushed back to the corridor to avoid them eavesdropping more than they did in the kitchen.

“Sorry about them- for your outfit, wear whatever you want. I truly have no say in what you’re going to wear, plus you’ll look hot with whatever you pick so, it’s a win-win.” I quickly said, earning a laugh from the man on the other side. “I’d love to see your face right now, Robin did say you were flustered. Guess we’ll have to wait until Thursday.” He hummed, his tone having some finality to it. I knew it was my cue to hang up.

“I wasn’t flustered, I- at best embarrassed- no wait that sounds worst doesn’t it? Anyway, see you on Thursday! Have fun at work, bye.” I waited until he bid me goodbye before hanging up. As I put my phone away, I leaned against the wall and sighed, letting my head hit the wall. “Are you okay?” Robin’s soft voice reached my ears, she was making her way towards me with a slight smile. Probably feeling a bit bad for going along Nami’s childish attitude only moments ago.

Humming, I gave her a nod. But the words that followed were not matching the actions. “He’s like, very hot. And I really want to fuck him, right? But he’s also pretty funny, and good at flirting?”

Squinting her eyes, Robin asked, “Is that a question… or?”

“No, no, it’s facts and it confuses me! I was ready to just, hook up, but he could be more- I don’t know maybe I’m desperate.” I simply shrugged, leaving a silence between the black-haired woman and me.

Looking up at her, she seemed to be thinking. Then she smiled, she was always the one with good advice but also a helpless romantic. “It’s a good thing isn’t it? You don’t need to worry too much, that date of yours will help you see if you’re really interested in him or not! If not, you’ll have great sex- if yes, you’ll still have great sex, and another date.” I groaned in reply, running a hand through my hair before giving her a short nod.

“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll just- live my life until then, I have other things to do than think of a man. By the way are you home tonight?” I asked her as we walked back to the kitchen where Nami was nowhere to be found, there was simply a piece of paper with the words ‘bring your ass to the car’.

Chuckling lightly, Robin shook her head. “I have to stay late at the library. Then Franky agreed to let me stay at his place, since it’s closer.” We talked a bit as we made our way to the door, where she wave me goodbye before closing the door gently behind me.

When I was back in the car, Nami had one of her earbuds on and was talking more gently than she’d usually talk to someone. Which means she was talking to Vivi. I did not interrupt and instead grabbed my phone and saw a message from HandSurgeon.

HandSurgeon: Are you feeling better? Don’t forget to stay hydrated, I’ll be a bit busy this week, but I can find time if you’d like.

Edelweiss: shit, just saw your message! Sorry, crazy morning. I am definitely sore, but it’s good, I can move so there’s that!

Edelweiss: Also, I might be a bit away from Wednesday to Friday, I am seeing someone and knowing how our session leave me pretty sore, I’d rather you know…

Edelweiss: be in good shape

Edelweiss: for a good fun

Edelweiss: a good fuck

This time, I did not have a prompt reply. I put my phone away and it’s only halfway through my day, while I was working on something at the library, that I received a reply from him. I’ll admit, I had been expectant the entire morning for an answer. I had been deep in textbooks for so long, I was craving for any sort of interaction, from anyone. Which explained the speed at which I unlocked my phone to see the text from HandSurgeon, and even one from Trafalgar Law.

I hesitate for a moment, then opened discord.

HandSurgeon: It’s fine, you are allowed to have a life you know. Simply tell me if you want to stop this, or not, you know… if your someone is not the one and you still need a good fuck.

HandSurgeon: I will also be busy on Thursday, I’ll try to send you a text if I get some free time.

HandSurgeon: I just finished a long meeting, would you be up for a fun game?

I stared at his messages, feeling a bit excited suddenly. But knowing myself, I would say yes, so I had to answer to Law first before spending my time sexting the stranger.

Trafalgar Law 😷: I’m sorry we had to cut our conversation short, how was class? I have a bit of free time, if you’d like to talk about our research meeting.

You: That’s actually pretty cute, thought you were just a horny piece of meat but damn, you surprise me.

You: I am still on campus, drowning in work. I’d love to talk, but I need to focus, text me later? 🤠

Going back on discord, I felt strange. I wanted to say yes, to play his game, but it felt wrong for some reason. I was double texting and it felt like I was cheating on a man I was not even dating. I ignored the thought and typed back.

Edelweiss: I kinda wanna know, but also really need to get back to work. So, I’ll have to decline.

Edelweiss: But I’m curious, what was the game?

HandSurgeon: It’s quite alright, I was going to suggest you’d take a pretty picture for me no matter who was around. But you are busy, so I’ll leave you be. Focus on your work. I’ll talk to you later.

HandSurgeon: But for ‘emotional support’, I’ll give you this:

HandSurgeon : [sent an attachment]

I snorted at his words, and smiled when he sent me a picture of his gloved hand gripping the wheel of his car tightly. I did comment on wearing gloves while driving, even though they were not medical gloves and it had some charm, it was very movie-like. And suspicious.

After that, I put my phone down and got lost in work. I did not even see time fly by, what informed me that it was indeed a few hours later than I thought, was the grumbling of my stomach. “I think it’s time to call it a day.” I mumbled while packing everything up. With the books put back where they belonged and my laptop tucked away, I made my way outside and was walking through the parking lot when I saw a familiar mop of hair making its way towards me.

I suddenly felt self-conscious and straightened my back before meeting his gaze and frowning in confusion. “Are you stalking me?” I patted my pockets in emphasis, before saying “Did you put a chip somewhere, or-“ Law shook his head as if I was being crazy. “Bro, it’s super super sus that you’re at my campus when I never gave you the address-“

“I asked Robin. I was going to ask Nami but she wouldn’t have given me anything.” He explained as if it was obvious.

Looking around, I opened my mouth and closes it a few times. It was a bit awkward. “Why are you here, then?” I asked, still confused, my eyes squint in suspicion.

“Right- give me a moment.” He turned around and took a few long strides to get to his car and get something from the passenger seat before coming back. Even though his steps were hurried, there was still this elegance to it that I could not ignore.

“I am very familiar with long hours of studying, so here’s a drink and some food. I used to skip meals, because I’d get too much into it. Don’t do that, eat.” While what he said seemed caring, he was not smiling or anything. But the gesture was so sweet I couldn’t help but smile.

“It’s very nice of you,” I said, tucking my hair behind my ear jokingly in faux-shyness before going back to a normal demeanor. “But I was going home. I was done for the day, here,” I handed it back to him before trying to find my wallet in my bag. “Let me, just- how much do I owe you?”

He stopped me from rummaging through my back and ruffled my hair before handing me the drink and food back. “Nothing, I was passing by. Now I am sure to not get lost when I’ll come and get you on Thursday.” He winked, then looked back at his watch a moment. He seemed to ponder something for a moment, before looking up at me. “Would you like me to drop you off at your house? I have a bit of time before going back to work.” He asked kindly, showing me his keys as if trying to coo me.

“Maybe you should go eat too? I’ll take the bus, it’s alright.” Smiling, the man pointed at his car with a certain pride. “Oh don’t worry, I got myself something too. It could be our first lunch date, you are so bent on traditions, so why not lunch?”

I felt my cheeks heat up and pushed him playfully, careful not to spill the drink I had in my hand. “I’m not bent on traditions, I just barely know you, doc.” I looked to the side and shrugged before walking past him, “Let’s get lunch.” I said over my shoulder. I heard the man laugh in the back, then the jingle of keys.

I tried to open the door but found it locked. I stated the obvious, “I can’t get in if it’s locked.” I was about to complain more, when he leaned over his side of the car and grinned. “Ask politely, and I’ll let you in.” I hated him, but the smile on my face was a betrayal of how I really felt. He was a little shit, but it was still fun. Rolling my eyes, I mimicked his action and rested my arms on the roof of the car, “Could you please unlock the car, doc?” “Good girl, was it that hard?”

I turned my head towards him so fast I may have pulled a muscle in my neck, but the way he said it made it a lot more than just a nickname. He was testing the waters for something, and I had given him the exact reaction he wanted. “What, do I call you daddy now?” I said sarcastically while getting inside the car and buckling my seatbelt while he held everything before placing them back on my lap.

“Not my thing, but I’m sure we’ll get to that conversation later.” He smirked as he put something in the glove box before closing it back and meeting my intense gaze as he leaned back on his seat. I was observing each and everyone of his action, feeling out of place in his car. I had met the man last night, but for some reason he felt familiar. Perhaps it was his aura, perhaps he was just that reassuring. No, clearly not, he looks threatening… “Something on your mind? I don’t know if you’re looking at me like you want kill me or fuck me,” Extending his hand towards me, he placed his index under my chin and lifted it, I quickly grabbed his hand like last time to stop him.

“Maybe both, maybe none-“ With a short smile, he interrupted me, “Don’t be like that, I’ll ask differently. Are you uncomfortable? I haven’t done this in a while, so I’m trying to take it slow…ish.” He admitted. I could see on his face he was feeling just as sheepish as I was. Clasping my hands on my lap I chuckled nervously, “I’m good, I was just…. Observing. You’re doing good, simply put…” I trailed off and met his gaze with a playful grin, “Ye’re a looker pardner,” I then tipped my non-existent hat, which made him laugh genuinely.

“You were just in awe?” He asked a bit surprised, hiding his bashfulness behind a laugh. “Exactly, take the compliment and don’t mention it again. Now drive, or you’ll get back late at work.” I huffed, looking at the window with warm cheeks. I felt a pull at my hand and looked at it confused, “I’d love to, but you’re still holding my hand.” I quickly let go and threw his hand back at him, “It was to make sure you weren’t going to do the whole,” Making a gesture with my hands in the air, wiggling my fingers, I continued, “Chin thing again.”

Even though he agreed, only giving me a curt nod along with a “Right.”, I could see the smile on his face as he started the car. Looking at him from the corner of my eyes, I matched his smile discretely as I looked back at the road.

The volume of the music wasn’t loud, I could hear the fabric of his coat as he maneuvered, the blinkers, my own nervous heartbeat. There was no reason for me to feel so nervous, we were just going to eat lunch then go our separate way. To try to calm down, I rummaged through my brain for topics to talk about, small talks was fun in social events but in one on one, it was a fucking disaster.

Do you have any pets? Do you like cats? Maybe talk about his job? How long did he study? Or funny topics, less social, more creative? Politics is off the table, it’s not that great of a first date conversation. What’s your favourite colour? What part of your body to your prefer-

I blurted out a question to try to fill the silence. And fuck did I regret it, I shouldn’t be allowed to speak when in that state, but it was too late. “So… what’s your favourite body part?” Wait, no, fuck, not…

[Part 6]

#trafalgar one piece #trafalgardwaterlaw #trafalgar law #one piece trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #one piece x reader #physicalturian #words of pleasure #wop #fanfiction #one piece #law one piece #law x reader #ao3 #ao3 writer #physicalturian AO3 #writing #writings

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phantom-of-the-ruckus · 2 years

Text

Regarding what happened over my hiatus

I won't go into much detail, nor give names or make a petty response. I'm just gonna be mature as possible. So, I published a couple of days ago that my mental health was doing horrible and I needed to take a break due to an interaction that led me to be overly anxious. So here's what what happened:

Long story short, met another user then things went badly FOR ME, so I took a hard choice that I deemed as mature and block them. I block them from a response they made that caused me to feel guilty and overly anxious for politely speak my mind. Then, I see a post of theirs (they are still blocked, but I was impulsive and paranoid) and had a range of emotions that ultimately led me to the conclusion:

"You know what? I'm getting sick of this. I don't hate you, I'm just disappointed at your hypocrisy and immaturity. You can be better than this than your auto-destructive behavior. Do me a favor, and please take care of yourself and step out of what is triggering your behavior."

Regarding over their post, I kind of felt it was subtly addressed to those who block them (including myself) but not really directly about them, yet I can point out a huge list of things that only makes them look immature and a huge hypocrite (which my BFF agrees that it does.) I was indeed upset. I wasn't offended or anything, I just was angry that technically was insulting the innocent ones. I was all like:

"You can insult me and my likes. I won't defend them, but you DO NOT get those people involved who had done nothing against you."

Now, I just find it hilarious and childish over the point that it's simply ironical (points I mentioned previously). I'm still disappointed, and I swear that it was super tempting to make a petty response to annoy them but I'm more mature than that. I'm certainly just gonna keep things as they are. That previous post just made clear that reasoning is out of the picture, and I felt that I wasted my time with and genuinity with them. I did mention, and I'm still stand by this, that I won't hesitate to talk and tell the full story if a rumor or lie is spread about me.

If I'm being honest, I don't wish them the worse or anything. I just hope that they mature and start to actually take care of themselves. If you are reading this (which can be unlikely, but there's a possibility that you're not using your account that I block) I did mean my words and I was being honest with you back then and with this post. I'm sorry to say this, but I will keep things as they are now since it is for the best in my humble opinion. I hope that you take a time off and seek for help. You can't keep with talking this badly about yourself or make petty posts like the one you did. Those things will only start to kick the people out of your life and more people not to take you seriously because you're being childish and immature. Eventually, that behavior may even destroy your beautiful relationship with your partner. Stop, reconsider, and think.

You are not better than those who hurt you if you insult them back or make petty responses, you're only showing yourself as one of them as you did with that post; and, even if it was meant as a way to insult me or make me feel offended (Dude, I'm Latina. We taunt ourselves in a daily basis), I'm just so disappointed to see how low did you go with this. I know that you are better than this, and yet you show yourself there as a hypocrite and a two-faced person. Please take full responsibility of your actions and don't justify it with your bad experience. Even at our lowest, it is us who decide to destroy or rebuilt. Be the better version of yourself, and please leave this platform. It's doing you more harm than good.

Hopefully, things stay as they are and I will get back to make content once again. I just wanted to make a quick response to end things properly.

Note: I am not going to discuss it with anyone. Unless it is for a plausible reason (Like knowing what happened and want to hear my side) I won't answer questions about them or say names unless they force me to.

Thank you.

note: I do believe that I did mess up in some parts and I do take full responsibility of my actions

#There was also my crisis into leaving or staying in this fandom #thankfully some other members of the fandom and friends brought me to my senses #they were super sweet and basically told me #girl as long as it's legal and ur having fun do it #you're not harming anyone and if you like it have fun #people can like different things and htey should respect it #I was quite thankfull and I took a moment to reflect over what happened and my work in general #I ended up telling myself why am I stopping myself from just having fun in general?#Of course that I will make things clear when I do this type of stuff but I just won't deny nor defend #I like being creative and read the stories nobody would make #I can totally understand if people don't like it and that is fine #I'm not really serious about shipping freaking puppets lol #but yeah that situation really hurt me #but it was also a nice moment to take a reflection about my content and talking myself about what I love #So yeah I will still do content but I decided to be more cautious with it so I don't accidentally trigger others #My main focus would be probably about finishing my main stories #but also giving me some good Amen and Tonybeth #Amen = Amy x Owen #My BFF baptized the ship as Amen and I just love it #I also wanna thank those cool guys who are just chill with weirdos with weird ships as long as they don't actually do creepy stuff #Now I am afraid of getting into the encanto tags #No but yea #I probably won't publish as much ship art in Tumblr for the moment #I'm just not really feeling like doing so and I'm still recovering TBH #I also created a wattpad account since I lost access to my former one #I'll publish there in spanish unless someone wants me to put the translated works #I will also make a little post explaining a bit my real view on the franchise and why I don't really have a linear persection #I will also talk about the ships clarify the approach but also why they're not really my main focus #and also I just wanted to add that it was refreshing taking a break from making hello puppets content #I feel more motivated to continue on writing and working on different projects as well

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spectrumed · 3 years

Text

3. sadness

Don’t be like that. Be like this, or be that other thing. Be unique, but don’t be too unique. Fit in, but try to be a rebel. Be a renegade, but don’t rock the boat. Don’t know what you are supposed to be? What? Do you have imposter syndrome or something? Just be yourself, but, y’know, sand down the edges a little bit. Be friendlier. Be the kind of person everyone likes. Be the life of the party! Don’t be some shut-in, some crazy cat-lady with absolutely zero social life. Don’t be sad. Don’t burden others with your sadness. Work to maximise the total happiness of your community. A smile goes a long way. Can’t smile? You really can’t help but being a sourpuss all the time? Well, I guess maybe that if you can’t help but stay in a perpetual bad mood bringing everyone else down… then maybe you should just stay isolated? Better stay alone, away from others. You’re toxic. You’re just so damned sad. You really must be quarantined.

I am sad, a lot of the time. Are you? But, no, you can’t just admit that you are sad. Don’t be a buzzkill, try to inject a little humour into the things you say. You can admit you’re depressed, if you do so with a joke. Don’t let others know you’re being sincere. Ironic jokes work the best, don’t they? They let you confess your secret gloom to everyone around, but they’ll never know just how serious you’re being. With a wink of the eye, any candid expression of your inner turmoil can become a hilarious post-modern gag. Are they or are they not telling the truth? Oh, I’ll never tell! And it will all work out excellent, up until the day you commit suicide. But every comedian’s time in the limelight has to end at some point, right?

This blog is supposed to be about autism spectrum disorder, why am I suddenly discussing depression? Well, I suppose that it is time we bring to the table this little thing called comorbidity. Psychology is messy. Some would argue that it is barely even a real scientific field (I tend to think that it is the best thing we have, but I acknowledge that in places, psychology is fundamentally flawed.) You may have thought that you’d get just one diagnosis. One simple label that you can work through and overcome. You’re bipolar, now go deal with it! But instead, you find yourself with a whole fistful of diagnoses. What to hear my proud list of diagnoses? Oh, please, don’t think because I am listing them this one certain way, I put them in order of relevancy to me. I love all of my diagnoses equally.

My diagnoses are:

Generalised Anxiety Disorder (GAD)

Social Anxiety Disorder (SAD)

Agoraphobia

Possible Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD)

Asperger syndrome (AS)

No, I was never officially diagnosed with depression, but largely because, at the time I received these diagnoses, my depression was so blatant that it felt as if I was walking around with a cloud of miasma surrounding at all times. Imagine me as Pig-Pen from Peanuts, but instead of being covered in dirt, I was covered in the funk of melancholy. And whatever treatment I would eventually go on to receive (and still am receiving to this day,) would go about treating my anxiety first, and hopefully, the depression would give in alongside the anxiety. It has, for the most part, though, I still feel the presence of that black dog from time to time. I also got only a half-hearted potential diagnosis of OCD, but later, during a trial of an antidepressant that had a freakishly negative impact on my psyche, it blossomed into a fully-grown attention-craving condition. Turns out that OCD can be a real hog for the spotlight, really not allowing any of the other diagnoses to take their turn on stage. Thankfully, when I got off that particular antidepressant, those symptoms stopped, but it has led me to be far more aware of my internal obsessive-compulsive thought patterns. For me, OCD largely lacks physical compulsions, but my mind is ablaze with intrusive thoughts, and I will routinely force myself to repeat certain phrases in my head to make them go away. The funny thing is, I never realised that wasn’t normal.

Diagnoses are an attempt to map out a spiders’ web of problems. Things come hand in hand. While I’m no psychologist, I can speak from the perspective of someone who has been through the psychiatric process, which I suppose, lends me a certain kind of expertise, doesn’t it? Maybe it really doesn’t. Maybe I’m just throwing words out there, thinking that I could serve a good purpose, but instead all I am doing is contributing to this great onslaught of digital disinformation we’re all suffering under. But I’m probably just too doubtful of myself. I am speaking about myself, after all. I’ve got first-hand experience in being myself. I know exactly what it feels like to own this skin, these bones, this heart, and this mushy brain of mine. I’m not claiming to know everything. I’m just claiming to know about this one sad individual writing this hoping it might allow someone to reblog my posts with the hashtag “relatable” one day.

Anxiety runs in my family. The neurosis demon gets passed down from generation to generation, only occasionally skipping a beat. My mother and I share many of the same neurotic quirks, though, she has for the most part of her life not had it to quite the excessive degree that I have it. I really took that genetic predisposition for anxiety and ran with it. And while I’m the only person in my family to have gotten diagnosed as being “on the spectrum,” there are a few members that I kinda sort of in a way actually quite seriously suspect might also be here somewhere on the spectrum. Still, as always goes with diagnosing, there’s no point in doing it unless the person is in need of some kind of treatment. I wholeheartedly believe that most people on the planet belong to one spectrum, be it an autism spectrum, a bipolar spectrum, a narcissism spectrum, even a schizophrenic spectrum, but diagnoses should be exclusively reserved for those who need psychiatric care. The world is a spectrum, and it’s worth noting that the terms “sane” and “insane” do not alone capture the complexity of the human psyche. A person can appear perfectly sensible, yet at some point in their life, they may have been a real silly little bugger who thought that their pet hamster was the reincarnation of the Buddha. Just as with physical health, one can struggle with one's mental health for one period in their life, only to later on in life feel utterly and entirely mentally healthy. Or, well, sadly in a lot of cases, people who were perfectly mentally healthy may suddenly become diagnosed with dementia. But that’s really sad, so let’s not talk about that.

Is it all genetic? Well, no. Or well, maybe? In regards to autism, I am pretty sure that, yes, it is genetic. While, yes, I do admit that I’m just a dummy on the internet, so what do I really know? And the brain is such a complex bit of mushy meat, so I could always be proven wrong. Though, I tend towards thinking that there most likely is principally a genetic factor to conditions like autism, or attention deficit disorder (and attention deficit hyperactivity disorder,) or things like bipolar disorder. But with anxiety, quite frankly, I can’t say how much of it is nurture and how much of it is nature. I mentioned that my mother and I share many of the same neurotic quirks, so that would imply that there is something in one's genes that can make some more prone to anxiety than others, but my mother does not struggle with agoraphobia, nor does she seem to have any obsessive-compulsive tendencies. In fact, in my family, even those that exhibit some element of heightened anxiety, they don’t seem to show any milder symptoms of this kind. I can’t help but feel as if these conditions I gained through that tortuous period of every boy’s and girl’s (and boy-girl’s) life is called puberty. I hate to conform to stereotypes but I did indeed hate being a teenager. Believe it or not, I wasn’t a jock, and no, I didn’t go to parties. I mostly spent my time crying.

The question that no doubt plagues every movie psychiatrist to no end is what kind of trauma must a person undergo to make them go mad? Abusive parents? Abusive uncles? Abusive teachers? Abusive dogs? Honestly, to be an adult raising a child must be rough, considering how any mistake you make might suddenly turn your little babe into a future serial killer. Now, there’s no doubt that there are some seriously terrible parents out there, and that a lot of people have mental woes that definitely came about due to their parents and their abysmal lack of parental care. But generally, how much can you actually blame on your parents? We know the cliché, let’s go sit down on the sofa and complain to our Freudian hack-shrink all about those times as a kid our dad missed the big game, or that time our mother embarrassed us in front of all of our friends. I have plenty of things to complain about my parents, like I believe we all have. Our parents are flawed, messy human beings, of course they occasionally made mistakes throughout our upbringings. But is that nearly enough to turn a person mentally ill? Putting up with an at times really embarrassing mom? No, I don’t think so. And of course, there are some real awful parents out there, I’m not doubting that. Trust me, I’m a fan of true crime, so I’ve heard some real grizzly stories of what some kids are forced to grow up with. But I am thinking that those instances are more rare than they are common. Most people with mental illnesses can most likely not blame their parents.

How ‘bout bullies? Yes, them bullies. Them awful mean bullies that made all of our lives so painful. It’s funny, it seems like every school had their own fair share of bullies, and yet no-one as an adult ever comes forward to admit that they themselves were the bullies. It’s almost like as if no-one ever thinks of themselves as being a bully, even when they are throwing rocks at that weird chubby kid with blonde hair who happens to be named Fredrik and who just wants to be left alone. Was I bullied? Well… yes. But I can’t say I got the brunt of it. I got bullied, but overall I’d say I only ever had it slightly worse than most people. I was still quite tall, typically taller than my classmates growing up, and for the most part I could roll with the punches. If you really want to talk about a kid I knew growing up that got bullied, let me tell you about this kid who knew all the right dances for all the right Britney Spears songs. He was gay, I think. Not quite old enough to have come out, I suspect, but, well... He liked all the female pop stars, but not in that way of wanting to kiss them and fondle their boobies, but in the “I want to sound just like them when I grow up” sort of way. I don’t know what happened to him (or them, or her, depending on how they identify now,) but that was real bullying. Like most folks, I found myself stuck in that limbo of seeing others get bullied far worse than me and being too cowardly to intervene, in fears that I’d end up taking their place. Yes, isn’t school just a marvellous place? It’s a wonder any of us turn out okay.

No, I think that, fundamentally, the problems I have arose with myself. This, blaming myself, is not something that I am unused to doing. I have a long history of blaming myself, that’s really the problem. As a teenager I knew that I was different, and I was frightened and scared of being exposed. I didn’t even really know what it was that was different about me, I just knew that I didn’t fit in. I felt as if I didn’t deserve to fit in. The older I got, the more intense these feelings got. And I started taking it out on myself. I started hating myself. And I really mean furiously hating myself. It wasn’t some casual self-loathing, it was searing self-hatred. I did not physically hurt myself, but I did engage with self-harm. I kept repeating the mantras of “I hate myself,” and “I am pathetic,” over and over again, with the ultimate goal of making myself cry. For a period, I couldn’t go to bed without making myself cry first. I began taking days off from school, pretending to be sick. Well, I suppose I was ill, but not physically. I began failing most of my classes, I only ended up doing well in art. I stayed away from school for whole weeks at the time. Once, when I shame-facedly returned to school some of the meaner boys came up to me and said that they were surprised to learn that I was still alive. They were surprised, but also a little disappointed.

This was a time in my life when I really needed psychiatric care. This became increasingly obvious to my parents, and my teachers. I was clearly suffering from depression. Not just some teenaged angst, but full-blown, wholly insidious, depression. But, well, I didn’t get the care that I needed. Oh, I did go to see a psychologist a couple of times, but she saw no reason for me to continue seeing her. I don’t know why she felt as if I wasn’t in need of help, frankly, I can’t fathom why she felt as if I wasn’t in need of help. I suppose I avoided telling her the truth of what went on inside of my head, but I feel like as if any good psychologist would have been able to tell that the kid sitting across from them was clearly suffering from something a tad more intense than just some common concerns about puberty. At most I was able to confess was that I was feeling ashamed over myself for getting so fat, but it should have been clear to anybody that I was only using that as a hook to hang my self-hatred on. There very clearly was some underlying condition that I had that should have gotten addressed. But it went ignored.

At most I can think to explain this is the fact that I wasn’t “problematic.” Not in the way some kids are, when they’re struggling with their mental health. I did not act out, I did not take drugs, and I was certainly not violent. Even to this day, though I have at many times suffered from suicidal ideation, I am a real low-risk for actual suicide considering my intense fear of dying (yes, that’s an odd combo to have.) So, I’ve come to realise that the only way I am getting treatment is if I actually seek out treatment. And back then, I was just as placid as I had previously always been. I was quiet and introverted, just desperate to get back home so I could go and hide in my room. Many teenagers are like that. And it is easy to ignore them, because they want to be ignored. They just don’t want to exist. When you are desperate to be left alone, eventually people will leave you alone. I would go on to receive psychiatric care later on my life, but only after several years passed. I did have a better time living in my later teenage years, but like with a bone that heals wrong, I needed someone to come in and sort me out. I was sad as a teenager, but I would become really sad as a twenty-something. Hopefully my thirties will be jolly.

#neurodiversity #neurodivergent #autism spectrum disorder #autism #aspergers #mental health

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neighbourskid · 3 years

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Dave? Dave.

It's been quite a bit since I've written anything here, huh? Well, I guess as it has been for pretty much everyone, life has been kinda strange for a while now. Despite vaccine roll-outs and continually changing safety regulations, there's still a global pandemic on, and everyone is trying to navigate this reality the best they can. For once, we are all, generally speaking, in the same boat now (sure, there are huge differences between countries because capitalism fucking sucks and rich greedy humans are once again proof that things need to change asap, but overall, we all have to deal with this pandemic).

But I don't actually want to talk about the pandemic, it just exists as a frame of what I do wanna talk about.

As I have mentioned before, when the pandemic hit, I was in the last semester of my undergrad studies and writing my Bachelor thesis. Or that's what I was supposed to do, anyway. I did do a lot of reading for it, early in the first lockdown after university closed and we were all attending from home. I was lucky, I had no classes, I only had like three scheduled meetings to check in on progress of the thesis, but otherwise I was free of zoom calls and attempting to attend university digitally. So I read.

After a while, reading became taking a book with me into the sun, glancing at one or two pages, and then just napping for most of the day, and spending my evenings either playing video games or watching some tv show or movie. At some point, I felt like now was the perfect time to rewatch all fifteen seasons of CRIMINAL MINDS, so I did that, instead of writing my thesis. I still occasionally read, but most of the days I just felt exhausted and unmotivated so I stayed in bed and binged my crime show.

As the deadline for the thesis started approaching, and the time I had left fell under a month, a switch in my brain seemed to be activated and, oh, hello, suddenly there was a certain drive there for that thesis again. Which lasted exactly until an email from university dinged into my inbox a few days later, informing me that I would get another month for my thesis, due to the pandemic. And away that motivation and drive went, immediately.

Not much later I had a session with the therapist I was seeing at the time, because of the hormone treatment I had started early that same year. I had talked to him about my concern that I might have ADHD before because I didn't feel like there was anything we needed to talk about related to my transition, so I brought it up again here. I told him how my thesis was going -- or rather, how it wasn't going at all -- and finally, as I told him about some of the issues I experienced while trying to do work for it, he acknowledged that I may indeed have some attention regulation issues. He prescribed me medication to try out, and -- wonder oh wonder -- suddenly I was writing my thesis. I ended up finishing it on time (even though a week before I had a moment of "all of this is garbage, I will never pass, I should start the whole thing from scratch") and got a decent grade for it, too. I've been on those meds since.

Over the last, I don't know how many years, I've always known that there was something a bit wonky about my brain. There were always these things that seemed to come so easy to other people, and try as I might, I just couldn't make them happen. I, presumably, had a lot of neurotypical friends. I also have friends with depression, BPD, anxiety disorders and other neurodivergencies. I have family members with autism. I know my mom suspected I might be on that spectrum as well.

Reading up on many of those things I never felt like any of them described what I was experiencing. There were certain traits, sure, but mostly there was a lack of what I actually did experience in most of them. Even ADHD, when reading about the "required" issues and traits, doing those self-diagnosing questionnaires, I just never saw what I felt represented. And then I started reading about what people with diagnosed ADHD had to say about how they experience things. I ignored the more medical or clinical information, and just looked for people talking about how they navigate their lives with ADHD. And then all of a sudden it was, oh, yeah this, this is relatable. This is where my brain's at.

Suddenly it made sense that caffeine didn't do nothing for me, that a nice, warm cup of coffee put me right to sleep. It made sense how, after only a month, suddenly a well beloved hobby or tv show was suddenly of no interest whatsoever. Staring at the wall for three hours instead of doing a simple task. Drawing in class so that I could pay attention to what is being said. The inability to remember much of my life before 6th grade. Having to bounce my leg so I could read a simple text. Needing to visually break a book down into chapters with colourful post-its to keep me from being overwhelmed by the length of the book. And so many other things. Suddenly, there was a reason for that.

I've always liked doing personality quizzes. Or doing stuff related to my zodiac sign even if I don't believe in astrology per se. Finding out what my Enneagram number is. Or my Myers-Briggs type. Not because I think those things define me or describe me to a T, but because they give me a vocabulary. They give me options. I love answering a bunch of questions and then getting a wall of text telling me This Is Who You Are and then I get to pick out what is accurate and what isn't. It gives me words to describe who I am that I didn't have before.

And it is the same thing with posts or videos of people with ADHD. It gives me a vocabulary for the things I experience and it lets me express those things in a way I wasn't able to before. Before, I was like, doing things that my brain doesn't want to do, feels like running headfirst into a wall because there is no way above, around, or underneath it. There is no door, no ladder, no tunnel, no nothing. There is only running headfirst into it until maybe, hopefully, it cracks. Preferably before my head does. But that is exhausting and most of the time, I prefer to not get through the wall at all, if what it takes is going headfirst through it. Now, I know that what that is, is a dopamine deficiency. The task that needs doing, the task that this wall is, doesn't give my brain enough dopamine. There is no satisfaction, there is nothing to gain from that task, so the brain isn't interested.

One of the things that I recently discovered and helps me a lot in this quest of figuring out how my brain works, is this guy Connor on tiktok, who also has ADHD. His videos are both hilarious and informative. And also incredibly relatable. They might be silly haha funny videos on the dear old internet, but I walk away from most of them going, oh! oh that makes sense, good to know.

He occasionally talks about how ADHD is completely misnamed and how Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder does not actually accurately describe what exactly people with ADHD lack. In one of his videos, he calls it DAVE instead. It's silly, and sounds a bit dumb, but I kinda like it. Dave. Dopamine Attention Variability Executive-Disfunction. Dave. I like Dave.

Y'know, I don't mind having ADHD. Presumably, I've lived with it my whole life so far. And it's annoying as shit some of the time. Especially when things need to get done and they just won't. But I don't mind that, especially now that I know that this is what it is. I've always feared that if I finally do go to a therapist and try to figure out what my brain is up to, they'll just tell me that I'm fine and there's nothing to worry about. And at first, my therapist did say I was psychologically unremarkable. But I guess if you've lived like this your whole life and nobody has really picked up on it, even a therapist doesn't notice (it's called masking, I've learned, thanks Connor).

But knowing is good. Knowing means I can learn things that help. I can take medication when needed. And, looking at the grades I'm currently getting in my graduate studies? Hells yeah, taking that medication and knowing how to deal with certain aspects of my brain helps a lot. It is incredibly funny to me that the best grades I have gotten in my entire academic career have been achieved in my Master's studies during a global pandemic. There is currently an actual real possibility that I may graduate summa cum laude. In my MA. That is insane!

Anyway, I am avoiding tasks by writing this right now. Oh, the irony. I'm gonna try and do those tasks now. Y'all take care. Cheers!

#personal blog #alex talks #adhd #connordewolfe #tiktok

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treason-and-plot · 4 years

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RANDOM REPLIES

@shhhushhh

That was f*cked up indeed. And very poor decision to separate the siblings to start with.

Yeah, but probably more so in hindsight. I would imagine that Peyton was very excited to go and live in the big smoke, whereas Spencer wouldn’t have wanted to leave the Islands and his life built around sailing and the water. Something which he’ll probably never stop feeling guilty about.

@ktarsims

Yep, makes sense. Still not okay… but makes sense.

Phew! Spencer is a hard character to write (although never let it be said that I don’t enjoy challenging myself!) One post in particular took me days to write and revise. But I’m thrilled his behaviour and his actions make sense.

@muses-circle

Okay, the reveal about Spencer’s parents, his mom’s infidelity, and his sister’s death is why he’s such an ass towards Mia. He’s still an ass, but I get it. That being said, Spencer seems one second away from mass murder (he’s so angry) so he can’t totally blame his issues on his background.

No, he can’t, but hopefully his issues provide a little bit of insight into why he acts like he does. His anger is an emotional crutch. He thinks that if it ever dissipates, he’ll be letting his sister down. And it provides him with an illusion of control. And thank you so much for ‘getting it’. That means everything.

@skyburned

People can be awful and a lot of them shouldn’t have kids. Interesting thing about children though. Some turn out okay and some don’t no matter what kind of parents they have. Sucks for that woman’s kids though.

@muses-circle

Roy just can’t let it be a friendly game, even with his son, can he? The look JoJo and Jared give each other: priceless.

Nope, he can’t! His competitive streak will out every time. And I love that look too, especially when contrasted with what is going on with Roy and Angus.

@mysimsloveaffair

I love that last shot. I’m sure this scene would be a lot different between Joel and Jared.

Yeah, totally! I love the bond between Joël and Jared. They don’t even need words to communicate.

@skyburned

Roy’s reaction is not friendly at all. It’s pure joy at beating someone even if it’s a little boy. Mean. Not even juvenile (although there is that). Just mean.

I don’t dispute that Roy takes joy in beating someone, but he’s not as much mean as oblivious. He doesn’t set out to belittle or hurt Angus. He’s just someone to beat.

@dreamsongsims

It rarely works out that way. Roy isn’t using this as a teachable moment to encourage his son to keep working on his game, or even giving him pointers that would help Angus improve. Maybe I missed something, but it seems to me the only thing Angus learned is how to control his anger when his dad’s being a prick.

Yeah, true, Roy really needs to build up Angus’ self esteem by telling him what he did right. I hope in thirty years, when Roy’s knees have gone and arthritis has set in, that Angus completely destroys him on the football field!

@muses-circle

Bahahahaha oh Angus, you adorable kid. Keep embarrassing your father, it’s hilarious!

@skyburned

I see no downside to the education except understanding that it’s useful to hide it when talking to other adults. Discretion is a powerful weapon. Too funny though!!

@muses-circle

Yikes! That’s a really sad story. :( And, honestly? Kind of what I could see Roy doing at some point. :( :(

Yes, I was thinking the same thing myself.

@shhhushhh

Or Angus will geow up hating all sports as general and be more be more interested in female menstruation circles because someone who won over Roy made the cicles much more exciting topic to Angus than Roy made sports 😉

LOL!

@skyburned

Lecturing people on how to raise their kids never works. Joel is right. Competion with a peer is sometimes good (I HATE competion) but knowing your parent is more concerned with winning than having fun with you is not a good thing. Also those two are hysterical. I know you are but what am I….

Yeah, I guess talking to people about how to raise their kids is something you don’t do…like discussing religion and politics! I don’t think anything in Joël and Roy’s relationship has ever been off-limits, though!;=)

#replies

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worryinglyinnocent · 3 years

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Fic: It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Zoom-mas

Summary: It wouldn’t be Christmas without a visit to the Lab Nights ‘verse and Aunt Elvira!

Things are looking a little different this year, but that doesn’t mean that the little Lab Family can’t still celebrate in style.

Rated: G

It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Zoom-Mas

“Is this thing on?”

“Aunt Elvira, you ask that every single time, and every single time we tell you that it’s working fine. Surely you must be used to it by now. We’ve been doing this for months.”

“Well, it’s all right for you bright young things, you’re used to technology and all those whatnots. I can barely make my mobile phone work, and even then Rum had to get me one with super-sized buttons on it so that I could read them.” Aunt Elvira waved her oversized phone at them over the webcam and Bae couldn’t help but grin.

It was a strange Christmas. He and Emma had always intended to spend this year just the two of them; they tended to alternate between seeing family and needing a break from all the madness, and once Emma had entered her final trimester they wanted to avoid any and all contact with the outside world as much as possible. But with everything else that had gone on throughout the year, they had decided that a family Zoom call on Christmas day would be a good idea to help spread the festive cheer. Well, it would be a rather extended family call, since Regina and Mal and Ursula and Ella would also be joining in, but it had long been established that they were as much a part of the family as the core Gold clan were.

Beside Bae, Emma just laughed. “You know, I haven’t known Aunt Elvira for anywhere near as long as the rest of you have, but I think that she’s a lot more shrewd about technology than she lets on.”

“Well, that’s for me to know and you to find out.” Aunt Elvira winked. “Anyway, since we’ve established that we can indeed all see each other, Happy Christmas!”

“Happy Christmas, Aunt Elvira.”

Despite the current state of the world, it had been a very happy Christmas. Without having any of the family coming to stay or having to go out to see any of them, it had taken the pressure off a bit and Bae and Emma had spent the entire day in their pyjamas, including their Christmas dinner.

“Where’s the rest of them?” Bae peered at the screen, trying to see past Elvira into the rest of the house.

“Just finishing doing the dishes, then they’ll be here.” On cue, Rosie raced into the room and took up a seat on the sofa beside her great-aunt, waving excitedly to Bae and Emma.

Another window opened and Regina and Mal waved from their living room.

“Merry Christmas everyone!”

“Merry Christmas… Mal did you just pour an energy drink into your eggnog?”

Mal nodded merrily and took a sip of what must have been the world’s most disgusting concoction. Bae didn’t like eggnog at the best of times but he knew that adding sugar, caffeine and chemicals wouldn’t make it any better.

“I haven’t been to bed yet,” she said. “I’ve been awake for the last twenty-four hours and I am wired!”

Regina shook her head in despair. “I would like to point out that I did tell her to go to bed. It’s getting to the stage where I think I’m going to have to tie her down to the sofa to stop her bouncing off the walls with the amount of sugar she’s consumed. She ate pretty much the whole yule log on her own.”

“I get the munchies when I’m tired!”

Ursula appeared on the screen and waved.

“Hello all, Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Ursula. Where’s Ella?”

“Looking for her Christmas gin. She bought a bottle specially and hid it so that she wouldn’t drink it before Christmas, but now she can’t remember where she put it.”

There was a brief pause whilst Aunt Elvira expounded on the horrors of not being able to find any gin, during which Rosie spent most of the time rolling her eyes. Elvira didn’t even realise that Belle and Gold had joined them in the living room until Bae said hello to his dad and stepmum.

“I found it!” Ella raced into the picture and threw herself down on the sofa beside Ursula, no mean feat since she was also holding a bottle of gin and a glass of tonic. She poured a generous glug of gin into the glass and waved it at the rest of the gathered family before taking a huge sip. Ursula just gave a long-suffering sigh, and Ella rolled her eyes.

“Oh come on, you can’t deny that after the year we’ve had, we all need it.”

Gold raised his wine glass. “Amen to that.”

“I think we should have a toast,” Mal said. “Congratulations to all of us for surviving the year from hell with only mild alcohol poisoning.”

It was certainly an eclectic mix of drinks used in the toast, from wine to gin to orange squash to tea to Mal’s hideous concoction, but the spirit of the message, Bae found, was definitely a celebratory one rather than miserable. There had been many moments of misery over the last year with so many of them working in the public health sector. There had been so much worry on all sides, but the fates had finally come together to allow them all to be together - if not physically together - today, and they could all see that they were healthy, and happy for the moment, if a little worse for wear.

The merriment continued as Mal, Ella and Elvira all got steadily drunker, sharing hilarious tales of Christmas shifts at the hospital gone by. The year that Elvira fell down the stairs was mentioned more than once.

Eventually though, the time came to bring the call to a close after Mal had finally given up the ghost and fallen asleep on Regina’s shoulder, and quiet goodbyes were said, with the hope of being able to all see each other in the same room soon.

Bae closed down the laptop as Emma leaned into his side with a contented sigh.

“It’s been a strange sort of Christmas,” she began.

“It’s been a strange sort of year.”

“Well, yes, that too. Anyway, it’s been a strange sort of Christmas, but it’s good to know that no matter what else is going on, there are some things that never change. Like Aunt Elvira. And Ella and her gin. And Ursula despairing of us all.”

Bae smiled. “Yeah. We can always rely on them for entertainment if nothing else.”

“And you know, hopefully next year Ursula will be despairing of us all whilst Elvira and Ella enthuse over alcoholic beverages in person. Although I’m not quite sure that would be a good first impression of Christmas for Henry.” Emma patted her belly.

Bae just laughed. The times were indeed strange, but there was always hope on the horizon.

#OUAT fic #swanfire #rumbelle #sea devil #dragon queen #Lab Nights 'verse

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oathkeeper-of-tarth · 4 years

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After The Dawn

Hello, hello! I am indeed still around, and sometimes even do non-work-related stuff. About, oh, 2 years ago, this got sent in as a prompt, so have a little 4 times + 1 thing, for the occasion of me processing my recent DS9 comfort-rewatch (by which I of course mean “mostly spending a lot of time gazing adoringly at Kira Nerys and crying”). As far as I recall, I’ve never actually posted anything from my giant decade plus WIP pile of Trek stuff, so this is a first - I hope it doesn’t disappoint.

The prompt was “five different sunlights”. So here are five snapshots of Kira Nerys from joining the resistance to DS9 and beyond, ~4400 words. Veers into Kira/Jadzia because I’m hilariously predictable. Also includes brief appearances by (in order): Lupaza, Furel, Shakaar, Damar, Garak, Kaksidy, and Jake. Mentions of several others.

Contains discussion of the occupation of Bajor and canon character deaths, but nothing explicit I can think of to warn about.

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After The Dawn

1. 2356

The raid was long over but her fingers still shook – cold, always because of the cold, never from fear. Every so often they would twitch more decisively, as if recalling the sensation of the phaser rifle she was just barely big enough to hold jerking to life in her grip. But then they’d travel to her right ear of their own accord, tracing the lines of her new earring. A proper d’ja pagh all of her own, with the symbol of the Kira family emblazoned in the metal – echoing the beautiful engraving she’d always admired on her father’s.

Lupaza had worked through the night to make it for her, by the feeble light of one of their few still-working heaters, with skill that seemed otherworldly to Kira (who, though by far the youngest among them, knew better than to ask about anyone’s life before joining a resistance cell). Lupaza, who had looked at the scrawny thirteen-year-old hanging around their camp, and who’d chosen to believe in her, and speak up for her. Who’d presented her handiwork to ‘their newest member’ at sunrise, during the change of guard at the mouth of their current cavern hideout, letting the winter light glimmer on its silvery surface for all to see. And Kira had beamed at her, not caring about who’d been around to witness it or how young it may have made her look.

I’m in the Resistance, she wanted to shout over and over again until the reality truly set in, flooded and near-overwhelmed by the newfound sense of belonging and pride and brightly burning defiance mixing in her chest.

Again and again her fingers went – over the cuff hugging the shell of her ear snugly, down the single deceptively delicate chain, to the simple but beautiful main piece. She could almost believe it was still warm to the touch, heated by the orange-glow burn of Bajor’s atmosphere on Cardassian hull metal – made from stolen Bajoran ore, mined with stolen Bajoran labour. It was only right and just that it be returned this way. The rest of the beritium hull salvage they’d stripped from the ship would be used for lining the walls of their hideout, shielding them from sensor sweeps and the bite of the winter cold alike. But this small bit of it was a shield all Kira’s own.

It was a comforting presence, a slight but grounding weight with a depth of meaning that its size belied. Lupaza smiled at her fascination and distraction every time she happened to pass by, promising she’d get used to it. Furel agreed, for once without a trace of a joke in his voice, and slapped a hand on her bony shoulder with a gruff: “You’ve more than earned it, kid.”

Shakaar himself, in between whatever it was his leaderly duties entailed, took a moment to consider her. “It suits you,” was all he said on the matter, though if he meant the earring or the phaser Kira had for the first time stuck in her own belt instead of giving it back after cleaning was anyone’s guess. Then, turning to leave, he added, “Good job out there.”

There was something like sadness behind all of their eyes. Kira chose not to see it, or dwell on it.

She was in the Resistance.

She didn't even know if any of her (many) shots during the ambush had found their mark, but it didn't seem to matter. She could, she would help protect her father and his little garden, scrounged up, cobbled together, but growing. Protect her remaining brother, for the one she had failed to. She would honour her mother, the bravest woman I've ever known, Nerys. She saved us all, at great cost to herself.

Whenever her fingers floated back down and twitched for want of a rifle trigger again, she told herself to be patient. There would be more work for her, more chances to be useful, more chances to prove herself. No more sitting idly by, and no more fear.

2. 2369

Even after weeks on the station Kira had yet to manage to sleep through an entire night, but she sincerely doubted it was the bed's fault. Sure, the Cardassian-designed beds in the Cardassian-designed quarters on the Cardassian-designed station left much to be desired, but they certainly beat the ground of a half-frozen cave. And yet here she was, with endless damn bunking arrangements as one of the most frequently brought-up complaints among the crew body. Why and how those PADDs always seemed to end up on her desk was anyone's guess. She'd been prepared for a more administrative role, yes, but…

“The time is oh-six-hundred hours,” the computer helpfully informed her.

Kira huffed, and tossed aside another PADD with a blinking Request denied, then shrugged on her uniform jacket and made to leave her quarters for a quick breakfast.

It was still an odd thought that took getting used to: her quarters – hers alone; a viewport in the bulkhead, allowing her to see the stars and, when the rotation was right, Bajor’s own familiar sun from a very new perspective. Regular meals thanks to Federation engineers patching up Cardassian replicators and whipping them into shape. Shops and eateries opening on the Promenade. The ruinous mess the Cardassians left behind them slowly coming together again into something functional. Kira permitted herself a wry twist of the mouth at the thought – hopefully the planet the station had formerly orbited could manage to do the same.

The discovery of the wormhole brought fascinating, colourful crowds to the station so quickly and in such volumes, she didn't envy Odo at all. Even the small segment of the Promenade she saw on her way from her quarters to the replimat was enough to reinforce, every morning, that this was no longer Terok Nor: grey in every way imaginable, filled with throngs of terrified, beaten-down Bajoran workers and their Cardassian overseers, delighting in the former’s disposability.

The small but lively, chattering crowd in the replimat seemed to underscore all of her thoughts – no more waiting in line for gruel with the exhausted shift that had just left ore processing.

“Good morning!”

Instead, a friendly Federation face. The pattern of spots that ran down the sides of Lieutenant Dax’s face and down her neck was fascinating to Kira still – not Bajoran, and certainly not the grey, flared bony Cardassian necks that had made up most of Kira's world up until not so very long ago. She had to stop herself from staring often, even though, judging by that smirk, the Lieutenant did not seem to mind. She appeared to relish attention in general, of all kinds. Kira ducked her head, and tried to focus on the replicator instead.

“Something wrong? Quark interfering with the menus again?” Dax was right behind her, peeking over her shoulder, eyebrow raised, and smiling. Somehow she always seemed to be doing that.

“Oh, no, nothing like that, thankfully. Still not quite used to this, is all.” She shuffled her feet and made no real move to complete an order.

“Hm. Well, if I may, Major, I’d recommend the raktajino for early morning starts like this.”

“Raktajino?” Kira repeated oafishly, biting back the Early!? her mind had immediately supplied.

“Klingon coffee. Try it – I think you’ll like it.”

Kira was sceptical, but Dax seemed to be very sincere – so after a few button presses she found herself holding a large mug of something hot, dark, and quite thick. She wrinkled her nose and took a sip.

“It’s, uh… strong.”

“Hits the spot, right?”

The crooked, almost sly smile on the Lieutenant’s face was contagious. Kira didn’t even feel like bringing up growing up under an occupation-enforced famine as an excuse for her own lack of a developed or sophisticated palate or culinary taste in general.

The drink did have a real kick to it, and Kira took another sip. “Yeah, it does.”

“Just don’t go overboard with them – let me tell you, I made some grave mistakes there right after I became a host. Curzon,” Dax smirked, shaking her head, then waved at the table they’d found themselves next to. “Mind if I join you?”

Kira thought about it, but only for a moment.

“Not at all, Lieutenant.”

And ah, there it was then, as soon as they sat down: the small, incessant, bitter sting of you knew what they were doing to us and you sat by and did nothing that insisted on making itself known at very inopportune times. It was, however, becoming more bearable by the day and with every individual met, every new reassurance that they were here now, despite everything, to make a good start. Together.

When the Cardassians came they were helpful and charming too, nagged the little voice at the back of her mind. But this couldn’t be like that, and just looking at Dax was enough to… well, perhaps Kira was being a naive fool, but there seemed to be ground to build here, and she found herself willing to try. And after all, she knew she herself was ready to do anything, to lay her life down for Bajor. She just needed to be pointed the right way – or, rather, she needed to be able to point herself the right way. Now that knowing who the enemy was and who the enemy could turn out to be had gotten more complicated. Still, if nothing else: she wouldn’t let it be a repeat of anything, and she was prepared to be a thorn in anyone’s side, Federation or provisional government or otherwise, for as long as was necessary.

“You seem to be mulling over something grim already. Everything alright?”

The concern was genuine enough, but Kira had no idea how to even begin to explain all of it, even if she’d wanted to.

“Just thinking about some complaints about quarters I need to handle,” she lied smoothly – or what she hoped was smooth, anyway.

Dax caught on, and backed off. Lifetimes of experience to thank – or perhaps Kira was just that easy to read. A transcript of Trakor’s annotated ninth prophecy just waiting on a lectern, as Lupaza would say.

“Sure. Let me know if I can help.”

“With station admin? Aren’t you a science officer?”

“Absolutely. But it's in all our best interests to get this place running as smoothly as possible as fast as possible, right?”

Kira narrowed her eyes at her, entirely unconvinced. “Right.”

“Fine,” Dax threw her hands up in the air in a very silly, exaggerated gesture, “I admit it, I’m after juicy gossip. There’s bound to be quarter reassignment requests in there! What could be juicier?”

Kira couldn’t help but bark out a laugh, then. “You are ridiculous.”

Dax grinned right back. “Glad to be of help. Let’s get to Ops, you can tell me all about it on the way.”

When Kira got to her feet, both she herself and the entire day – if it could truly be called that on a space station – felt somehow lighter already.

3. 2372

It was swelteringly hot under the sun of some new, as of yet unnamed planet, in the midst of a survey mission that had already gone on longer than scheduled. Hardly Kira’s idea of a good – or productive – time.

The place was an unpleasant dustbowl broken up by stray glass-encrusted rock here and there, and Kira was surrounded by a bunch of bustling, tricorder-armed Starfleet explorer types she would have sneered at, not so long ago – but many of whom she’d now consider fast friends. She’d hardly consider herself an ideal choice for helming this particular mission, but Sisko had been insistent, and so here she was. It would appear that, if nothing else, it gave her time to indulge in reverie – a truly rare occurrence.

The unfamiliar stars of the Gamma Quadrant, unimaginably far from everything she’d ever known, could now be reached within seconds, thanks to the wormhole – more proof of how the Prophets kept looking out for Bajor in sometimes quite unexpected ways. And Kira, as Bajor’s official representative on the mission, was determined to do her best to facilitate and build upon their efforts.

“Take a look at this, Major!” It was Dax calling her over, her tricorder beeping over some bizarre green-magenta form of plant life she found beneath a rocky outcrop a little off the not-so-alien dirt path Kira was stomping down.

“What've you got for me, Lieutenant?”

“Some kind of elaborate root system stretches on for more than a kilometer underground, running beneath the very acidic soil, with an impressive – and perfectly symmetrical – array of large tubers.”

Kira shot the sensor readings a look. “Huh, could’ve fed a whole resistance cell for an entire winter on nothing but a few of those.”

She frowned as soon as the words left her mouth – Jadzia Dax, decorated Starfleet science officer and dedicated, studious initiate who’d earned the approval of the strict Trill Symbiosis Commission, certainly hadn’t had such prosaic, practical implications of her findings in mind. For a very, very brief moment, Kira felt a sting of embarrassment – but then her mind snapped decisively back into its standard guarded, resolute position: she had nothing to be embarrassed about.

Dax, as had somehow become a somewhat frustrating habit of hers, seemed to be able to encompass Kira’s entire internal dialogue with a glance. But somehow she did it… gently, without making Kira feel small or inadequate in any way. No smug Starfleet superiority here, even with all the accumulated bragging rights of all the lifetimes under her belt. And – perhaps most importantly – no trace of pity to be found. Instead, a wellspring of enthusiasm.

“Their composition is interesting, I agree. Starchy, and rich in several key proteins – this has potential for significant contributions to agriculture. I bet Keiko will love to get her hands on this – see what she can set up in one of the hydroponics bays.”

Her smile was as bright as the orange-tinted light of the unfamiliar sun, but Kira took up the challenge of matching it.

Jadzia leaned in, almost conspiratorially, “Help me catalogue it?”

“I, uh, don’t really know what the procedure–”

“No worries, I’ll walk you right through it. It’s fun!” Kira’s scepticism must have been written all over her face. “I swear it is! I’m not just saying that, you’ll see.”

“Not to mention,” Jadzia winked, “it’ll get us under some nice shade and right next to a cooling unit.”

“You are incorrigible.”

“And you love it.”

Kira couldn’t disagree.

4. 2375

The weak, grey light of Cardassia Prime’s sun filtered through the slits in the cellar windows – if they could even be called that.

Another very literally bleak dawn. No contact with the Federation. No hope of reinforcements, or extraction, or help of any kind. Negligible chances of news from Deep Space 9, of the fleet, of Odo’s health, of anything at all. And here, far behind enemy lines, Kira and her unlikely comrades presumed dead, their network of allies and carefully-hidden carefully-built-up resources destroyed, all three (three) survivors hidden away in the capital of a people she’d once have termed her worst enemies, relying on the goodwill of an old woman.

Kira, a veteran of hopeless causes, had been in worse spots – but not many.

Whatever Damar’s less… pleasant compatriots had thought, she found no joy in any of it. Not even a flutter of satisfaction at all the irony the situation was positively dripping with. It was enough that it meant that twice now she’d been witness to oppression and destruction on an immense scale – civilisation-ending, one might term it. It was wearing, and wearying, no matter who it happened to.

Would she have cheered for the destruction of Cardassia as little as a handful of years ago? Perhaps, if it would have meant Bajor being left alone. The moral quandary aspect certainly wasn’t something she wanted to be thinking about at the moment.

While the others seemed to still be asleep, Kira lay on her back on one of the thin blankets Mila had provided them, and thumbed almost idly through a list of signals intercepted nearby, identifying potential sabotage targets. There were still things three people with extremely limited resources could do to make themselves useful - or disruptive, depending on your perspective.

Two Jem’Hadar barracks complexes (a hatchery would be better, and far less dangerous). A comms central (they might not have the proper tools available to make it truly worth the risk). Long-term storage warehouses (they needed to maximise short-term effects on the Dominion occupiers, not minimise the chances of Cardassia’s eventual recovery). Weapons manufacturing plants (tempting security gaps during shift changes, but still far too well-guarded for the three of them to take on alone). A power distribution junction (...remote, potentially high-impact, and definitely worth looking into). Kira made a note to ask Garak for any further details he could muster about it.

She should have, perhaps, been saving her strength, getting what rest she could while she could. Restless, that was what she was, even with all her experience and her awareness that so, so much of a resistance fight was simply spent waiting, biding time. With another brief glance around the murky room, she gave up even the pretense of repose, and got up to stretch her legs and pace out her nerves.

Garak was asleep in his corner, or at least pretending to be. Whatever suited his purposes best.

“Commander,” came a low murmur from the other side of the room: Damar, sitting up on his own improvised bed, very much awake. The Starfleet rank still sounded strange to her, but Kira could appreciate the way Damar made sure to respect it from the start, and never allowed himself a slip. “There’s something I’ve wanted to talk to you about. If you have a moment.”

“Somehow I have both far too much and far too little time these days. What is it?” She asked quietly, stepping closer, though the chances of Garak actually sleeping through whatever their conversation was going to be were negligibly low – as were the chances of him ‘waking up’ before they were done.

“I know it might not make much difference. And I do not ask for your forgiveness, or understanding. But I wanted – no, needed to tell you this. I'm sorry – for what I did to Ziyal.”

Her mood miraculously sank even lower. “For murdering her, you mean,” Kira didn’t even try to hold back the bite, nor had she ever been one for softening any blows.

Damar’s lips twisted. “You are right to call it what it was. Hiding from the truth won’t accomplish anything anymore. I killed her, and I deeply regret it.”

Kira said nothing, and Damar continued. “I’m not asking you for anything, believe me. But I hope… she can become a herald, of sorts. Her presence can live on in our alliance, a spirit of cooperation, and a new dawn for both our peoples.”

It was hardly the first time Damar made her think there could be a future for Cardassia after everything, one of reinvention and coexistence. Even Kira, with her underdeveloped imagination (Jadzia's efforts notwithstanding – ah, there was the stab of that hastily half-handled grief), could let herself imagine it.

Kira nodded, and pursed her mouth. Forgiveness wasn’t something she felt was hers to give, even if she wanted to. Maybe it wasn’t anyone’s.

“Nice speech, Damar,” she said, flatly. Ground out, almost. “It’ll be good for you, to’ve had the practice.” Then, after a moment of consideration of what she was prepared to give: “I hope I'll get to hear you make more of those someday soon. And I hope Cardassia will get to hear them, too.”

It only took another tragically small circle paced before the weight in the room became unbearable. Kira decided to make for their somewhat improvised refresher and what little privacy could be scrounged up – and caught Garak watching her, lying motionless but as alert as ever.

She silently met his eyes, then turned away.

5. 2376

The first day of her long-awaited leave dawned beautiful and clear. It seemed a small thing, to be sure – but perhaps the Prophets, prompted by their Emissary, had had a hand in making it so. No matter the reason, the sun shone on a Bajor that was growing prosperous and whole in ways Kira had feared it wouldn’t ever be again.

The document that had just brought peace to two quadrants of the galaxy was called the Treaty of Bajor. There was talk, increasingly common and growing louder, of reactivating Bajor's suspended Federation membership application, and Kira had been made aware of the validity of her Starfleet field commission and the implications on her future career. The Vedek Assembly would be announcing their choice of the new Kai within the week. The soil beneath her feet was healthy, fertile, fully reclamated and ready for planting. There were now schoolchildren on Bajor who had never lived under the occupation.

And there was Kira, who had helped liberate it, and hadn’t lived on it since.

This was the first time she’d returned to her home planet after the formal end of hostilities with the Dominion, and all that that had entailed. The light of B’hava’el was strong but not harsh – the same sun Kira had spent most of her life under, but that had never hit her more differently than it felt now. B’hava’el, that she had now seen from so much closer and so much further away – had, in a horrifying, memorable incident, helped prevent the destruction of, even. Her! Not just scrappy little Nerys from the Shakaar resistance cell anymore, small enough to slip through narrow passages in the labyrinthine caves of the Dahkur province and gaps in the Cardassian sensor nets alike.

She was Colonel Kira Nerys, commander of Deep Space 9, and, as a dear lost friend had made sure she was aware a while ago, a public figure in her own right. Ah– her own importance was something she would need to confront some other time, perhaps, right after she somehow went head to head with her grief. Ezri had been dropping some suggestions, in her capacity as a counselor, for all of the senior staff and beyond. It would be foolish not to consider her recommendations, both as the commanding officer and as a friend.

Kira was well aware she had lost so much and so many. And she could sit down and catalogue the losses on a PADD, like freighter cargo inventory, but what for? She had gained, too, and lost again, and gained yet more. Like waves and eddies, pulling along a lightship on its way through the stars.

“Prophets help me if I try being a poet, too,” Kira mumbled to herself. Maybe she would take up writing tortured metaphors about the Prophets watching over and guiding ancient Bajoran star sailors on their journey all the way to Cardassia, for better or worse.

A stray breeze toyed with the chain of her earring, carrying the scent of ripening moba fruit, and as she crested the hill, the outline of a house well under construction came into view.

“I'm sorry, what was that?” Kasidy asked from just behind her, Jake right at her side, holding her arm.

“Just thinking aloud. Nothing important. Anyway… where did you want to start?”

Her two companions caught up to her quickly enough. The gasps of surprised joy at the sight of all the progress that had been made on the house were by themselves more than worth the trip planetside.

“Well,” Kasidy began, “we have all the plumbing specifications and details all worked out thanks to the local architect you recommended – thanks again, by the way. I think… the kitchen should be first.”

It was an obvious tribute. A longing and anticipation there, too. Kira's heart ached just a bit stronger then, for a beat or two. She nodded, scrolling down a PADD loaded with floor plans and interior concepts. “I know some people who can help with that, too. Ceramics and pottery artisans, and a few others. I’ve got some favours to call in.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Kasidy started, but didn’t get too far.

“Yes I do, Kas. We’re going to see this through, and we’re going to see it done properly.”

“Only the best for the Emissary?” Jake asked, pointedly. There wasn’t bitterness there, though Kira would have understood it, and perhaps expected it, from a young man longing for the return of his father.

“For a dear friend and his family,” Kira corrected. “But – yes, I’m sure they’ll be happy and honoured to contribute. Now, Julian and Ezri will be down with the next transport, just in time to meet us for dinner in the village. We have a few hours to handle things here, check on the progress so far, make notes – any complaints or requests you might have. Remember, I’m here to make sure they listen to you.”

They started down the path into the almost startlingly green valley, Kira catching herself marvelling along the way at the visibility of all the growth and healing made possible by the hard, dedicated work of so many. Who knew what could be in store for an old civilisation of artists, architects, and philosophers, forced to reinvent itself, and the sometimes tenuous connections to vast stretches of heritage that Kira herself had grasped at in various ways for most of her life, born into struggle and desperate, determined rebellion, like so many others.

Well. Nothing to stop her from trying her hand at poetry, after all.

She felt her lips twist wryly at the private joke – she knew her place and her strengths. And she thought she could say she knew herself, too – precious knowledge, by any accounting. She knew there'd be no rest for her, not really, as long as there was something to be done for Bajor, and for her station, and for her unlikely family, wherever they might end up, scattered among and beyond the stars.

But Kira allowed herself a moment, gazing up in what she imagined might be the direction of the wormhole’s entrance.

#kira nerys #star trek #ds9 #deep space nine #fandom: oath to the prophets #oathkeeper writes things #fanfiction #my fic #this is far from polished but #I'M PROCESSING #bless you angry space wife #always and forever #i'm also gonna tag the #kiradax #though i was using #jadzia x kira #really struggling to properly tag this

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antilocalevent · 4 years

Text

A Past Future (Black Butler x Reader)

TW:contains violence, mature content and language, yandere themes

Word count: 2.4k

Chapter 5: Visitors

You woke up, finally feeling properly rested and relaxed for the first time since you arrived here. You changed out of the 'nightgown' Undertaker lent you, which was actually just an oversized men shirt. You were suprised that he could find a shirt bigger than the size you have, since you thought that Victorian times people were very careful about their weight, and while Undertaker told you that that was true, he said his guests come in all shapes and sizes, and so his clothes do too. You brushed your hair and looked at yourself in the mirror before giving out a loud sigh and going out of the door. You made your way through the lounge room to the front of the shop, as you assumed that was when Undertaker would be in the morning. When you entered the room you saw that your guess was correct, as Undertaker was already sitting behind the counter, reading today's newspaper peacefully.

''Good morning.'' you greeted him as you sat on one of his custom made coffins beside him, giving him a warm smile.

He looked up at me and grinned. ''A good morning indeed, you woke up quite early, did you sleep well?'' He asked and you glanced at the clock, it's 8 am? That's not early at all.

''I slept wonderfully, I'm just suprised that I slept so late, at home I-'' you stopped as you remembered your home, all the memories rushing in. Like waking up to the smell of mom's delicious breakfast on the lazy weekends, and then the rush to catch the bus to school as you were getting ready, without saying goodbye to your family, oh how you regret that now.

''Dear?'' Undertaker snapped his fingers in front of your face, snapping you out of your trance. ''You were staring very intently at the wall, I thought you were gonna black out again!'' he laughed, but his laughter ceased once he saw your turned down self.

''Yes, I'm sorry, I must have zoned out.'' you said with a smile as you tried to stop thinking about home. ''When did you wake up?'' you asked, trying to change the subject, noticing how close he is, most likely looking at your glossy eyes through his bangs.

He sighed and stood up, walking back to his seat. ''I have to open the shop and take care of some work in the morning, so I wake up early.'' He told you while looking at the newspapers.

''Ah, I remember I wanted to ask you if you didn't find anything else on me, like maybe my phone-'' you stopped when you realized that he has no clue what a modern phone looks like ''um, it's like a small black rectangle, I always carried it with me, so I was just curious if it didn't end here too.'' you hopefully explained.

''I'm afraid I found no such thing with you, I'm sorry.'' He said as he looked at you with a small sincere smile.

''Ah no, it's alright! I doubt it would have any use here anyway!'' you said with a sad smile. There were so many pictures of your family and friends, you just hoped you would have it here with you so you had them, but guess luck was never on your side.

''Well now, '' Undertaker said, noticing the sudden change in your mood. ''would you like something to eat?''

_____________

"Do you even use this place? " You asked as you looked around the kitchen, the place looked abandoned, there were only a few places that had traces of usage, which you figured because of the lack of dust.

"Well it seems we're out of food! I guess I'll have to go and get some then." he quickly said, without looking into any of the cabinets to make sure there was nothing in them.

"You mean like, go shopping, like, out?"

"Yes, that's what I just said, didn't I?" he looked at you with an amused expression, finding your speech and questions quite hilarious.

You thought it over, this was your chance to go out and properly see exactly what the situation in this time line is for you. But at the same time it felt too soon, despite trying to forget about the situation, you were still shaken up from the experience last time, and although you wouldn't admit it out loud, you were scared.

"Can I go with you?"

Beneath the bangs his eyes opened up in surprise for just a moment, before a grin settled on his face. He really thought you wouldn't want to go out after the 'incident' but here you were, staring at him with an unsure but determined face, ready to go.

Oh this was so much better than he expected.

You were already paying him so much and you didn't even realize.

Days have passed and you were slowly coming to the fact that there's a high possibility that you may be stuck here forever. But when stuck in this situation without hope, at least you have found Undertaker, or rather, he has found you, without him you would have surely died out on the streets sooner or later. He has taken care of you, wanting nothing more in return than you by his side, telling him stories of the future, of your childhood and any fun stories your had to tell. You told him of important events in your life, like your first pride (which Undertaker found as a very positive and great thing, telling you how he can't wait to see it, which he said quite often about many things and greatly confused you with), or the process of trying to get your self more confidence and self love, and the death of your grandma, who was always there for you. He told you of how things worked here and we compared our views on certain topics. Sometimes he got a guest he had to take care of, which led to him being locked in the workroom for hours at a time. He didn't want to let you go out alone, or at all actually, telling you it was dangerous and reminding you of the day in the alley, yet you managed to persuade him to take you shopping a few times, letting you soak in the view of the past that you were present in. Time with Undertaker flew by so fast, full of pleasant conversations and laughter, it made you forget about the hopelessness and sadness of the situation that you felt at the start.

"Let's go then." Undetaker laughed

_____________

It was just another afternoon, you were next to Undertaker in the shop, talking about the time that you have accidentally cut the power in the whole school while eating a burrito.

You smiled as you saw Undertaker fell into another fit of laughter ''Well in my defense, it was the fault of the burrito! I've done nothing wrong, yet I got into trouble for it!''

Undertaker wiped away a happy tear before picking up today's newspapers. You looked over at the front headline.

''Jack the Ripper strikes again?'' Oh no, it's another one of his victims.

''Ah yes, it seems we will be getting visitors soon.'' He giggled as he looked at the clock.

''Visitors?'' you asked curiously.

''My frequent client, I provide him with information.'' He replied.

''Oh! Then I'll make tea.'' you said, jumping off the coffin you were sitting on and already leaving the room before Undertaker could say something.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Undertaker smiled as he looked at the door you disappeared in.

"She's a fast little thing, isn't she?" he said to him self with a grin as he opened his coffin, "Now to take care of the Earl and his butler." he giggled as he got into the box and closed it.

Third P.O.V

The five people stopped in front of the funeral parlor.

''So where are we?'' One of the men's, Lau, said with clear confusion.

''You don't know? Then what was all that about?!" The red headed woman said with irritation as she looked at the man, who simply just smiled back at her in response.

''It's a funeral parlor run by an acquaintece of my Lord's.'' The tall butler in black said as he opened the door for everyone.

''The 'Undertaker'?'' Madam Red said as they entered.

The young Earl has stepped in first "If we are looking for answers, this is the place.'' He said, looking around the room.

"Ahahah, welcome, I thought I'd be seeing you before long." The giggly voice echoed around the room as the guests looked around for it's source.

The coffin lid started to slid open as Undertaker appeared "My Lord, it's so lovely to see you." he pushed the coffin open and jumped out with his characteristic grin "Do I finally have the pleasure of fitting you in one of me' coffins today?"

"Undertaker! You have to stop trying to stuff everyone into your boxes!" You exclaimed as you came into the room with a tray with tea and biscuits you baked earlier that day. But once you realized that the eyes of the whole room were burning onto you, you froze and blushed in embarrassment.

"Undertaker, who is she?" The young boy asked as he looked you over with a glint of curiosity and confusion in his usually indifferent expression.

"Ah, I apologize for the sudden invasion, I am Undertaker's assistant, Y/n L/n, but please pay me no mind and continue with your conversation." You said in the most polite voice you could muster as you placed the tray on the nearby coffin.

"I didn't know you had an assistant Undertaker, and just what is it that she's wearing? I've never seen anything Iike that, much less on a girl." The boy said with suspicion as he looked you in the eyes. You looked down at your clothes from home, the red flannel and black jeans.

"Oh uhm- that's because I.. " you stopped, what am I supposed to say?? I wasn't prepared for this! "I'm a tailor! I made these my self for I wanted something more comfortable to work in than a dress!" you said quickly, having a smile on your face as everyone watched with clear unbelief 'I fucked up, didn't I?'

The Earl's eyes lingered on you for another second before he sighed and looked back at Undertaker.

"We are not interested in any of your coffins. I wanted to-" the boy was stopped as Undertaker placed his fingers over his lips.

"No need to say, I'm already aware, very well aware." He stepped away, "One of my recent customers was a little unusual, shall we say, I helped through, I made her look beautiful again." he said with pride and happiness as you cringed. You remembered that corpse, you instantly recognized it as one of the victims of Jack the Ripper, but you have never imagined how gruesome it would truly be, you could never understand why anyone would do anything like that.

"I would like the details please." The boy said in an indifferent voice. 'he's still so young, he shouldn't have to hear any of that!' you thought with sadness as you watched them interact, slowly sipping on your tea.

"I see now, so the funeral parlor is only your cover business. How much is it, for information?" The Asian man asked Undertaker and gasped when he appeared right in front of him.

"Oh I have no need for the queen's coins, there's only one thing that I want from you!" he looked at the boy, "Please my Lord! Give it to me and I'll tell you anything!" He said as he grasped the boys cheeks in his hands. "Give me the extraordinary gift of true laughter! Just one joke and all me' information is yours!" he laughed as he swayed from side to side with a huge grin. That's the usual Undertaker for you.

"You literally laughed at my burrito story five minutes ago, Undertaker, how can you be so eager for more?" You asked, once again claiming the eyes of the room.

"Burrito story?" the boy asked as he looked at you in confusion, but before you could fall into another stuttering lie the others decided to try to get Undertaker to laugh.

The butler stepped forward and was about to say something before you jumped off the coffin and cracked your knuckles. "Look Undertaker, if you tell them the information they need I'll tell you the story of how I accidentally burned our family tree and all the presents on Christmas because of the ghost of Sherlock Holmes." You said, just wanting this to be over with. Undertaker's eyes lit up and he laughed in what sounded like pure euphoria, while everyone else in the room looked at you with a worried expression.

You decided to try to not put your self into the center of everyone's attention for now and sat down on the coffin next to your tea, unaware of the pair of demonic ruby eyes that intently watched your every move.

Your decision however didn't last long as you cringed at every fail attempt of a joke.

"Please, do sit down and have some tea, I believe he'll tell you everything you'd want to know." you said and gave everyone, excluding the butlers as Undertaker has before explained to you how their work works, a cuppa, then stood next to Undertaker as he began to talk.

"An interesting pattern I'm seeing these days, I often get customers who are.. incomplete. Heheh."

"Incomplete?" The tall, black haired butler asked.

"Yes, the uterus is missing, which is quite... odd." he said as people in the room gasped. "A killer makes a big mess at a body, but that particular part is precisely excised."

"He did it on a road that was public, yet not high traffic, wouldn't an amateur have a difficult time carrying out such a complicated procedure quickly enough?" the butler asked again as Undertaker grinned.

"You're a clever one, butler, that is exactly what I was thinking." Undertaker said as he walked over to you. "You see first he slits her throat with a sharp weapon," he said as he dragged his long black nails across your neck, "then he rips into her right here," he explained as he held his hand over your abdomen, "and takes her precious womenly part." he grinned, his face right next to yours, as he put his finger on your cheek. "There will be more deaths, I'm certain, sadistic killers like this one don't stop until someone makes them." he took a few steps as he looked the boy in the eye.

"Will you stop him? Can you sniff him out like a good little guard dog?" Undertaker tauntingly said with a grin.

"I am bound by the honor of my family, I eliminate any threat the queen asks me to, by any means I find necessary." The boy said with determination as he looked up at Undertaker. 'Damn, I wouldn't want to mess with that boy. Also, why tf does the queen ask a kid to kill people?'

After that they stood up to leave, the butler went up to you and took your hand in his, looking directly into your eyes he slowly bend forward to put his face inches away from the back of your palm, you could swear he sniffed you as his eyes widened for a second before he gently put his lips on your hand, "I certainly hope we will meet again in the future, you will have to tell me some of your stories." he then went to go behind his master, ignoring the pair of dangerous green eyes watching him leave with fury.

"Well that was.. interesting.." You said as you walked up to Undertaker, noticing him watching the door with clenched fists and grabbing his hand. "Is something the matter?" You asked worriedly.

He looked up at you with a huge grin as his fist loosened. "You still owe me that story, you know, and I want to collect the payment."

---------------------------------------

I'm sorry it took me so long to write it and I don't even like how it turned out, I had such a bad week I feel like I'm gonna dieee 😭

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sworn-unbeliever · 4 years

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30 - Splinter

(or: The Unchosen One) (or: The Completely Canon Story of How Teremy Arrived at Norvrandt)

((The last entry! I wanted to go out with a bang. Or a diatribe since this entry is really long. First of all, a huge thanks to @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast, an amazing person who tirelessly(?) organizes this event and with such passion and love. You’ve inspired so many to write or post, including me. Thank you so-so much. Also thank you to @abeat once again. I had asked her to have the Exarch describe Jeremy and she ran with it. She is amazing and hilarious and I can’t thank her enough for that and everything she’s done.

I debated whether or not to break up the story of how Teremy came to Norvrandt into a 3-part story for free Sunday. Then I opted to take Sundays off. But because of that, I decided to do this story as the last entry, and all in one go. Thus this entry is probably more digested than what it could have been. Either way, I had this silly idea stuck in my head for awhile about the sword in the stone and I finally got to write it. A huge thank you to anyone and everyone who has stuck around with me, my obsessive, self-indulgent stories, and this sarcastic musician-poet-dancer-thug up until now. You can also find me at @adeat, @quasionion, and @aspected-benefic. Until next time!))

Wc: 5,250

“Apologies for taking you out like this, but the citizens are as baffled as the local doctors. Perhaps you are able to shine light on this precarious situation.” said Lyna.

The two arrived side by side at the Rotunda. Upon Lyna and the Exarch’s arrival, commonfolk and guards alike parted, allowing them to pass. The Exarch didn’t have to go far to see what Lyna had been talking about. There in the center of the crowd laid an object that had not been there previously—a sword with a third of its black blade lodged in an oddly specifically-shaped stone. In fact, said object seemed so foreign that it looked as though someone had played a practical joke. Yet, as the Exarch held a hand towards the blade, he sensed great powers within.

“Whomever or whatever had brought this object here is no ordinary being.” said the Exarch. “The question is… what is this sword’s intended purpose?”

“This is why we’ve called you, my lord,” said Lyna, “in which you may hopefully shed light on this puzzling matter.

The Exarch held a hand to his chin and tilted his head. “Hm. ‘Tis most puzzling indeed. Perhaps I may attempt to divine an answer.”

Lyna bowed. “Please do, my lord.”

Closing his eyes, even though no one could see as such, the Exarch called upon the powers bestowed upon him by the Crystal Tower. He looked into the divide between worlds to see who the foretold hero would be. Using his phenomenal magical powers, he created a portal to show an image of the foretold hero. The crowds gasped in awe and wonder at the vision shown to them—a handsome, brown-haired miqo’te with a smile that radiated like the ever-present sun.

“Yes, I see it now. He is someone who is brave, kind and true. He is always kind to all creatures except his enemies. His enemies are creatures who are the bane of all that is good within our world. He feeds hungry orphans and houses needy animals. He is wise, benevolent and handsome—”

“What does being handsome have to do with being a legendary hero—” Lyna mused quietly under her breath. “Wait, is he feeding those orphans bacon bread?”

“—courageous and more powerful than anything across the land and sea—”

Lyna had never before doubted the wisdom of her grandfather, but she felt that was about to come to an end if this sweeping description continued for much longer.

“—he will come to us and slay all of the Light Wardens, Vauthry, and every last Eulmorean—”

“I doubt that’s necessary. Since when is mass murder heroic—” Lyna started to say.

“He is also chiseled like a god of war and has a magnificently long—”

“My lord, perhaps you should to try to summon the hero now?” Lyna interjected to prevent the description of the foretold from quickly going from a PG-13 rating to an 18+ one.

The Exarch coughed. “Yes! He is indeed the destined hero—the one foretold in the records.”

In the background, Moren, holding a tome, nodded vigorously.

“I see…” The Exarch held a hand to his hood, “... I see his name! His name is… Jeremy! Jeremy Itsubishi!”

Lyna quietly sighed, relieved that at least the remainder of the lengthy description had remained decent. “Where is this one, this Jeremy Itsubishi?”

“Alas, it may seem that he is… in a realm far beyond us. Much like the ones that have been drawn before.” The Exarch said tactfully. “But fret not. Mayhap with my magics I may be able to summon him here. Please stand back. I can guarantee neither the accuracy nor the drawbacks of this spell.” He held his staff in front of him.

The crowd, including Lyna, took large steps backwards to give the Exarch all the space he needed.

Closing his eyes again, the Exarch once again drew upon the powers bestowed to him by the Crystal Tower. He channeled his energies to cast a spell—one of which he had much practice. A giant, flat circle appeared in thin air. The Exarch reached inside, his hand vanishing into the hole. Bystanders peered to the sides and out the other end of the portal, yet saw nothing. A few moments later, the Exarch grinned like a cat that had just pounced on its prey.

“I have you now. Throw wide the gates!” the Exarch bellowed.

Everyone in the vicinity raised their arms as powerful gusts of wind billowed violently, yet somehow everyone’s feet remained firmly in place. The Exarch pulled his hand out of the portal. When the the portal vanished, all that remained were the Exarch himself and what he had pulled out.

Or, rather, who—a miqo’te, or mystel as they were known in these parts.

Blinking a few times, said miqo’te-mystel rubbed his eyes, one foot forward in a natural fighting stance, and looked around. “What the fuck is this place…? Can a guy ever get two winks of a rest? God fucking dammit! Agh. Next time, send me a warning ahead of time before you drag me through time and space?”

Lyna gestured to the brown-haired miqo’te-mystel that had just arrived. “Benevolence personified, my lord.”

Not one to be deterred that easily, the Exarch cleared his throat and spread his arms wide. “Welcome, destined hero, to the Crystarium in Norvrandt. I am the Crystal Exarch and I am the one who have summoned you here. You are the one fated for a destiny greater than you could ever imagine, Jeremy Itsubishi!”

“Jeremy…?” the brown-haired miqo’te-mystel asked. Rather than the higher pitch than the Exarch had imagined, this seeker spoke in a lower pitch with a natural velvety growl, even discernable from one word alone. “You mean my brother?”

Silence.

“... brother?” the Exarch asked.

“Jeremy’s my younger brother. I’m his elder twin brother. Teremy.”

The Exarch said nothing.

The crowd said nothing.

Lyna gestured to the brown-haired miqo’te-mystel again. “Once again, your aim is impeccable, my lord.”

* * *

“Teremy…?” the Exarch repeated slowly. “In what realm does one name their child ‘Teremy’?”

“I ask myself that every single day of my life,” said the aforementioned Teremy.

“Hmm.”

Placing a hand to his chin, the Exarch circled around Teremy, looking at the seeker up and down in a similar manner as one would appraise a fine piece of art. All the while, Teremy stood ramrod still, arms firmly at his side, his ears shooting straight up to the sky. Teremy sensed no malicious intent from this very familiar-sounding miqo’te, but at the same time, the longer the Exarch stared at him, the higher Teremy’s fight or flight thermometer rose. Any second longer and Teremy’s instincts will bolt him out of the room, whatever intention they had with him or no! Thankfully for Teremy, the appraisal process ended sooner, rather than later. The Exarch returned to his original position of in front of Teremy, his hand still on his chin.

“Well, he seems to appear the part on first blush,” said the Exarch. “He is quite handsome and his face, height and frame match the appearance of the one seen in the vision. Yet, there’s something different about him. I’m afraid I can’t quite place a finger on it.”

“Is it his hair, m’lord?” Lyna asked.

“Come to think of it, his hairstyle is different,” said the Exarch. “Rather than a lampshade, his hairstyle appears to be rather… messy? Side swept? But no, ‘tis another facet, one I’m failing to discern.”

Right then and there, Teremy wished his hairstyle looked like his brother’s. Then his mind could click on a light bulb as to what the fuck was going on.

“Then perhaps his build, m’lord?” Lyna asked.

The Exarch gave Teremy an appraising look up and down. “Yes, well, while the frame fits, his muscles are certainly much… larger. More pronounced. His shirt may as well be a second skin. A venerable god of war indeed. Perhaps he does even have a magnificently long—”

Teremy flattened his ears and pulled his hood over his head. “Out of sight, out of mind. Out of sight, out of mind. Out of sight, out of mind—”

Lyna cleared her throat. “My lord. Although the spell may have been deceived by facial likeness, perhaps we can still take this situation to our advantage and have him try to pull out the sword from the stone anyway.”

Teremy pulled his hood back down. “Sword in the stone…?”

The Exarch gestured to something behind him. “Yes, well, we had attempted to call the hero seen within a vision to pull this sword out from the stone. Perhaps you can feel the blade’s energies from here? I can sense it. And it has been and shall be foretold—”

Moren, tome in hand, nodded vigorously again.

“—that a hero will pull this sword from the stone and use it to save our world.”

“That’s one hell of a story for you to drag someone all the way through time and space,” said Teremy.

The seeker paused to regain his mental state. He had taken on an empire. Primals. Violent illegal cartels and their lords. Getting dragged through time and space seemed like a logical next step. He pinched himself to see if he was dreaming. Pain. Bad idea. Yet he still stood amid a crowd and in front of a hooded miqo’te no less. Pulled through time and space all because his brother was needed to fulfill some kind of prophecy. And it wasn’t like Teremy could nope out of there. He had no idea where he was in the first place.

Might as well see this great big fuss first.

Teremy turned around to see exactly the description—a sword in a stone. Nothing more, nothing less, except for the sword itself. Teremy recognised the type of blade right away.

A gunblade.

The chamber was the largest thing Teremy had ever seen. The blade itself thick with a black coating except for its sharp edges. What was a gunblade doing here? What was it doing in a stone? Waiting to be picked up like a hero of legend.

Indeed, a legend: Teremy’s own brother.

The seeker’s mind jumped back to a point in time when Jeremy pulled out that own gunblade. Wherever he had found it mattered not. The thing got destroyed in a later ensuing fight anyway, but the point of the matter was that Jeremy had kept it. Prior to then, the younger Itsubishi brother had never shown any particular interest in the gunblade. But then again, things changed. Did Jeremy’s sudden affinity for the gunblade show some kind of destiny at work? Fate’s guiding hand that gestured the way?

And then fate in the form of this Exarch guy nabbed the wrong brother.

Teremy approached the sword in the stone. The crowd and the Exarch took a step back to give him some space.

‘Well, what the hell. Might as well give this a shot. Nothing left to lose.’ Teremy thought.

He gripped the gunblade’s handle. Immediately he felt the smooth coolness as though forged to fit his hand perfectly. He and Jeremy had the same size and shape of hands, but different dexterity, with Teremy being common and right-handed. Then why did this grip feel so natural? Why upon its touch did he feel like his very arm had been stuck in the rock and not this sword’s blade? Did Teremy imagine things? Fully expecting the blade to take his arm off the moment he pulled, Teremy yanked the handle with all his might.

His arm swung straight up with so much force, Teremy fell backwards. He shoved one foot behind him, quickly regaining his footing. The crowd gasped and murmured, but not the kind of gasp that he had expected. Not disappointed but not awed.

Confused?

Flecks of rock and debris trickled down on Teremy’s head and face. After shaking his head, he lowered his arm to see that he had indeed pulled the sword out.

With the sword still lodged in the stone.

In fact, Teremy not only pulled the sword out, he pulled the stone out as well.

Holding the blade sideways, his left hand cupping the flat end of the blade—or, rather, the stone—he turned back to the Exarch. “Does this count...?”

The Exarch’s pursed lips told the whole story. “Hm. Perhaps I truly need to perfect my aim after all.”

“There is always next time, my lord,” said Lyna.

Teremy’s ears darted around to the front and the side to catch the audio filtering in.

Disappointment.

Chatter.

Norvrandt will forever lord under the curse of an ever-present sun. Sin eaters will reign until the end of days. Teremy frowned and stared at the sword-still-in-the-stone again. His mind flashed him images of a time when he still lived under his father’s roof. A time when Teremy had been nothing but a disappointment to his father. A time when he protected no one but himself. His fight or flight radar soared near the top, only to be stopped by a roadblock called his ire. In just a few short moments, Teremy had been dragged around just to let others down by virtue of not being special, and that was that?

The Exarch placed a hand on his hood. “My apologies. I must return to my quarters. Also, I apologise again for inconveniencing you. You are free to stay here at the Crystarium as long as you’d like. We shall summon your brother in due time.”

He leaned on his staff. Teremy held a hand forward to brace him, even if he didn’t feel like he had a right to be in the Exarch’s presence. The Exarch turned his head towards Teremy and smiled.

“Thank you, but I shall be all right. This is nothing new. Believe me.”

Lyna sighed. “Yes, he is correct. This is nothing new. Teremy, if you don’t mind, I shall take the Exarch to his chambers.”

Without knowing what else to say, Teremy held onto the Exarch until Lyna got her hold on the cloaked figure. Once the two headed back, the crowd dispersed as quickly as Teremy had arrived. Teremy looked at the sword-still-in-the-stone.

“What should I do with this thing?”

No answer. Everyone had gone their separate ways. And now Teremy had no other choice but to do the same. Exhaling loudly, he placed the sword-still-in-the-stone on his back where he usually strapped his gunblade. May as well make use of it. Thanks to years of extensive training, he felt very little difference in weight. Had to be good for something.

Teremy wandered south. Some things remained the same as he knew them to be, yet different. Same gardens, though in circular plots with lampshades hanging overhead. Trees yielded leaves of not only green, but lovely shades of lavender and blue as well. Long lamps and domed areas that shone an unearthly shade of blue. He definitely wasn’t in Eorzea anymore.

But the question was… now what?

“Um! Are you Teremy?” asked a vaguely familiar voice that sounded like that of a small boy.

Teremy whirled around to see a dunesfolk lalafell looking back up at him. Blond hair parted in the middle, crimson eyes that matched his bandana and jacket, and an aura of magic surrounding him. But moreso than the lalafell’s presence or his appearance, his voice caught Teremy’s memory cue. Where had he heard that voice before?

Just in case Teremy’s mind played tricks on him again, he spoke cautiously. “Now all of Norvrandt knows my name. No thanks to that spectacle earlier.”

“Spectacle? Ah… I must have missed it.” the lalafell asked. “I just got here myself. Thought to take a walk and get a good idea of this place. Understand your surroundings and all that.”

“Fair. Then how do you know me?”

“I was part of the group that catered to that dance auditions. You know, the one you took part in. When that plant monster attacked, I was your co-tank. The, uh, paladin, if you can call it that,” said the dunesfolk.

The lalafell’s words acted as a cue that triggered Teremy’s memory. The dance auditions in Costa Del Sol. A disgruntled auditionee summoned a giant plant monster in retribution. What Teremy had once believed to be just the catering crew turned out to be an astrologian, a white mage, and a paladin—although more like a hybrid spellcaster who shielded his entire body with big guard and flung magical swords like a red mage—who helped the dance crew fight off the sudden foe. Teremy distinctly recalled the voice of said paladin who warned the party of dangers. A young boy’s voice.

A voice exactly the same as this lalafell’s own.

The lalafell nodded and smiled. “You remember! So you are Teremy Itsubishi?”

Teremy nodded. “If you’re looking for Jeremy, he’s… not here. Unfortunately for the prophecy.”

Joey put his stubby finger to his mouth and tilted his head, looking down, as though weighing options of how to answer as such. When he craned his neck to look up again, he finally spoke. “I just happened to see you and you looked lost and confused. That’s all.”

The seeker rubbed his face. All those years of trying to look indifferent… thwarted by his bewilderment. What a day. “Right. You said you missed the spectacle. Thankfully for my pride. At any rate, what’s your name again?”

“Joey. Joey Madison.” The lalafell gestured to himself with his thumb. “So, um, what brings you all the way to Norvrandt?”

“I—” Teremy started, but stopped. What was he supposed to say? One moment he was in Costa Del Sol chilling with his brother on the beach, and then the next moment he found himself sucked into a portal with only time to grab his clothes. Not even his trusty gunblade.

Joey tilted his head. “Here, come with me. My mistress, Reonora, also got summoned through the portal and I followed her here. She’s going to ask the Exarch some questions. He might have some answers for you too.”

‘Sure didn’t have any answers earlier.’ Teremy thought, but followed Joey anyway. Couldn’t hurt.

* * *

As it turned out, Teremy hadn’t been the only one who got dragged through a portal against his will—the entire Fortunes & Fancies crew—of which Teremy had correctly remembered as the catering crew at the dance audition—had been dragged here as well. The Crystal Exarch’s original aim was to find the fabled Warrior of Light, the one who had saved Eorzea time and time again alongside the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. Somehow, this extended to a humble shopkeeper trying to make a living, and both her retainers. Well, Rosemary, anyway. Joey had followed Reonora here by reopening the portal, but only due to traces of energies. He couldn’t open the portal back. In other words, in an attempt to find the Warrior of Light, the Exarch had pulled in nearly every single Scion of the Seventh Dawn, and them too.

For Teremy, because the Exarch had a vision of some legendary hero that could pull a sword from the stone. Now all Teremy had was the sword… and the stone.

Teremy folded his arms and said nothing as he listened to everyone else talk. To his limited thug mental capabilities, he gathered that the Scions had scattered at various parts around this world, and the Leveilleur twins happened to be the easiest ones to reach. At least from the Crystarium. Speaking of twins. Teremy bitterly wondered how one of them thought if they learned the other had been hailed some chosen hero, yet they weren’t the one and now they’re stuck here. No, no point to think about that. Things happened for a reason. Even though Teremy wasn’t exactly sure as to what yet.

“We should split up.” Reonora concluded. “I can go to Eulmore to find Alphinaud.”

Teremy unfolded his arms and stepped forward. “Then I’ll go to Ahm Araeng to find Alisaie.”

Everyone, including the Exarch, looked at Teremy in surprise.

“Are you certain?” The Exarch asked. “‘Tis true you have been pulled from your homeworld against your will—and for that, I deeply apologise. But you’re welcome to stay in the Crystarium as long as you like. There’s no need for you to go out of your way for this trouble, especially after the trouble I have caused you.”

Teremy cracked his knuckles. “Sitting still makes me antsy. Destined hero or not, I might as well make myself useful.”

Reonora held Rosemary’s hand. The keeper had clearly chosen who she wanted to take with her. Though she looked at Teremy as she spoke. “Then please take Joey with you. He may not look like it, but he is a versatile all-rounder. He should be able to help you in any capacity you need.”

Joey performed an eastern bow. “I’ll do my best!”

Teremy placed his right fist in his left palm and bowed.

“Then it’s decided,” said the Exarch. “Please speak to the Amaro Keepers once you have fully prepared.”

The girls headed out first, followed by Teremy and Joey. As the seeker and his newfound companion headed to the Amarokeep, Teremy wondered what he was going to do with this sword and the stone combination. He quickly concluded that he’d just carry the thing around. If nothing else, having the feel of a gunblade made him feel better, even if half of its blade was rendered useless. All else fails, he had an interesting sword-mace and story to tell Jeremy when he got home.

If he got home.

* * *

The last time anyone saw any trace of Alisaie, she was last seen at the Inn at Journey’s Head. From Mord Souq, Teremy and Joey traveled south—Joey on a flying chair, Teremy on foot. He needed some time to work off his nervous energy.

The blazing hot sun beat down upon them. Occasionally Teremy felt breaths of cold coming from Joey’s own aura. At one glance, he saw a few ice cubes hovering around the lalafell. Magic really could do anything. Although Teremy felt the effects of extra heat from his black clothes, he welcomed that feeling right now. He needed that reminder that he was still alive.

Expected of a place that bared an eternal sun, the Fields of Amber gave home to some of the largest sabotenders Teremy had ever seen. Gigatenders, as the natives called them. The two also passed by varieties of turtles and moles, but none of them gave the two any extra trouble. As they continued south down a rocky ledge, Teremy placed his hands in his pockets. His fingers grazed upon aether-charged bullets. To think, he had the bullets but not an actual gunblade to fire them. His gunblade had been left behind at Costa Del Sol. All Teremy had left was this part blade mostly rock thing. Maybe he could fire off a round or two and a Burst Strike would blast the rock off. He pulled the gunblade from his back and slammed the rock into a nearby larger rock. All Teremy felt was the other rock shatter upon impact. That rock. Not the stone, that looked not even a grain out of place.

Joey jumped and squeaked. Had Teremy not been in such a sour mood, he would have thought the lalafell’s noise to be cute. “Everything okay?”

“Too much sun.” Teremy strapped the gunblade to his back.

“Here, have some cold.”

Teremy never asked for anything, but he felt a cold breeze slowly billow around him. The miqo’te smiled a little. “Hypothermia.”

“S-sorry!”

“I’m kidding.”

“Oh!” Joey placed a hand to his mouth. “A sarcastic type. I see.”

“Glad we understand each other. Thanks for the cold, though. Feels nice.”

Teremy held one hand over the horizon. How much farther was this inn anyway? What kind of inn could even survive in the middle of a desert?

Just when Teremy thought he saw a trickle of blue like an aetheryte crystal coming from between two large rock formations, he also saw a flash of white streak across the sky. Pure killing instinct. And from Joey hopping off of his chair, Teremy knew that the lalafell sensed it too.

What they saw was a sight they had never seen before—beings of pure white with angelic wings but forms of monsters screeching from the sky and diving down towards what looked like hyurs in rags.

“Those are Sin Eaters! We have to be care—”

Joey didn’t have time to finish his sentence, for Teremy already ran ahead at full speed. Imbuing his body with the power of wind, he ran faster than Joey’s lalafell legs could keep up. The miqo’te thought he heard things from the lalafell like “—ful.” “This guy…!” and “Wait!” but too late. Teremy had already committed the moment he saw someone in trouble. And soon, one of the sin eaters keeled back in the air from Teremy’s shoulder tackle. A reverse roundhouse kick to send the next one flying. And a quick burst of qi energy launched like a projectile to push away the last.

“You all right?” Teremy asked what appeared to be hyurs.

And indeed they were. Or whatever they were called in this world—Teremy forgot the explanation nor did he have time to care. His strikes had only served as a distraction. The sin eaters regained their senses quickly and dove again.

“Go, quickly! I’ll hold them off!” Teremy whirled around and grabbed the gunblade strapped to his back. Footsteps pattered behind him. Good.

One of the sin eaters took a large dive at him. Teremy swung his gunblade, except that the weight at the tip felt much heavier than usual—not enough to knock Teremy off balance, but enough to feel the weight of that attack. Rather than slash and slice, the stone still attached to the gunblade bludgeoned the sin eater. Good show but not exactly what he was looking for. Taking a chance, Teremy filled the revolver with one aether bullet, snapped the gunblade back into place, and fired.

Ka-thunk.

The recoil of a burst strike sent Teremy flying back. He skidded on the ground to prevent himself from falling. And yes, to answer his question, the stone remained perfectly intact. Putting the useless gunblade away, he resorted back to martial arts again. A shoulder tackle. A series of hand strikes to points usually vital to humans, but the sin eater didn’t seem to recoil in the same manner. Now what?

A flechette of magical swords impaling the sin eaters answered Teremy’s question. Immediately following the hailstorm came bolts of fire. A sudden bolt of lightning that shocked the sin eater to its core. A bolt of unaspected energy flecked them, followed by a large gust of wind to blow them off target. Teremy watched as a red blur collided onto the sin eater in front of him, but it was the sin eater that inevitably went flying from a impact spell with Joey’s open palm as a catalyst.

“Careful. These sin eaters can sire you into one of them if they feel like it,” said Joey.

“Thanks for the heads up.” Teremy called back. ‘Huh. Magic and martial arts together. Don’t see that every day. Cool.’

Teremy turned around, raising his fists in a fighting stance. Now he and Joey stood back to back.

Turned out that these three sin eaters weren’t alone. Another screech and more arrived. Joey flung spell after spell. Lightning to unaspected kinetic magic. Wind to unaspected kinetic magic that sent sin eaters flying away towards Teremy, causing the miqo’te’s strikes to collide even harder. But the more sin eaters they felled, the more came. The more strikes the duo dished out, the more sin eaters clawed their way. Teremy felt more irritated than winded—the miqo’te was just getting warmed up. But Joey, as befitting of a typical spellcaster, felt his stamina ebb away from him. It wasn’t long before the lalafell fell on his knees, panting, using vercure to heal his and Teremy’s wounds, but the same spell couldn’t cure for Joey’s exhaustion.

Although Teremy could rely on his martial arts to attack, his very instincts reached to his gunblade. He had to be there. He had to be the one in front, to protect the party. To protect the people behind him. To protect his companions.

To protect…

Teremy clenched his teeth. He had known the answer all along. He just didn’t want to see it. He pulled the gunblade from his back. “You know what? Fuck this. I made a vow upon my honor to protect others. Destiny can go to hell!”

With the hardest swing he could muster, Teremy smashed the blade’s stone prison against the rock wall.

CRACK.

The stone shattered. The sword’s blade gleamed in the light, shining brightly like a smile from its first taste of freedom. His grip on the handle never felt any better. As he swung, he felt like this blade was not a weapon, but an extension of his own arm. Moreso than any blade he had ever possessed.

“C’mon!” Teremy beckoned to the sin eaters as his battle aura flared twice as brightly.

He vaulted into the air and spun around, sword outstretched. The blade cut cleanly into the sin eaters’ flesh. Another spin cut even deeper. Sensing the danger that shifted from Teremy’s battle aura alone, the sin eaters now flew away from Joey and towards Teremy instead.

Joey struggled to stay on his feet just enough to see Teremy call all the sin eaters in the vicinity to himself. Even in his tired state, Joey noted just how much the miqo’te’s fighting style had changed. Although powerful and graceful before, Teremy’s moves flowed much more naturally. Much more gracefully. Like he now had the means to complete his purpose. Still, there had to be something Joey could do. He watched Teremy spin around to attack all the sin eaters at once. But that alone, was that enough?

“Teremy. I got an idea. I’m going to imbue your blade.”

Whether or not Teremy had heard Joey, the lalafell proceeded anyway. Using Teremy’s blade as a catalyst, the lalafell summoned magical fire onto the blade. When Teremy spun, a trail of fire followed, cutting and burning into the sin eaters’ flesh. With their combined attacks and another flechette hailstorm, the sin eaters collapsed to the ground. Their bodies dispersed into the air, never to be seen again.

Joey flopped to the ground and sat down, exhaling. Teremy, too, panted slightly and leaned on the wall. The miqo’te laughed. Then Joey. And soon, the tension from the battle subsided from laughter of genuine relief.

“That was a good idea with the fire thing.” Teremy pointed the blade of his sword upwards and turned it with a flick of his wrists, reflecting light from the sun. “I’ll have to remember that technique for myself.”

“And you… you freed the sword from the stone,” said Joey.

Teremy stared at the black side of his blade. “I did, didn’t I? Heh… rather than be chosen, I forced my way, you could say.”

“Sometimes destiny is what we choose for ourselves,” said Joey. “Maybe the stone knew that.”

“Or I hit the damn thing too hard for its liking. Yeah. I’ll go with that story. Fate splintering off into the great unknown thanks to me.” Teremy strapped the gunblade to his back. “C’mon. Let’s go find Alisaie.”

As the two headed into the Inn at Journey’s Head, Teremy felt a wave of relief tide over him. Now he understood why he had been called to Norvrandt. There were people who needed saving and people he had to protect. He didn’t need to be chosen to protect others. He had already decided long ago what he wanted to do.

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite #FFxivWrite2020

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yakumtsaki · 4 years

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Welcome, dear readers, to Part 2 out of 3 of the Union Comeback Season Premiere Episode (title under construction, part 1 here). Right off the bat, let me just admit what everyone is thinking, yes, mass-deleting default replacements was clearly a huge mistake. Looking good in the heart boxers, boys, especially Jojo! Very on brand and not at all ridiculous. On a lesser but equally annoying note, our windows have suddenly turned red while the exterior AND interior of the house are purple. Dark days ahead..

..but not for Goro, who has returned home since running away and is immediately being kicked out again. Good to see you Goro, now pack up your shit, D’vorah won the cat heir position so it’s time for you to move to Melody and Daniel’s farm.

-Well I’m a cat so I don’t have any possessions to pack.

Thank you for providing an example of why you lost the cat heirship via this painfully boring reaction to the news of your defeat.

-No, he’s right, we cats don’t have any possessions to pack.

Omg D’vorah shut up. How on earth you boring flops are Alegra/Ronroneo’s grandchildren AND Sophie’s children I’ll never understand. I’m this close to making Maxx the cat heir and he’s not even a cat.

-Correct, I’m a dog.

Worst group of pets e v e r.

Oh look who autonomously woohooed for the first time in a century, I guess those base game heart boxers were simply too hot to resist. If one of you gets knocked up a week away from elderhood I’m gonna have a meltdown the likes of which the world has never seen.

-For the love of God, can we get some privacy here?

I’d love nothing more than to give you two bozos eternal privacy by never looking at either of you again, but the headmaster is here for Wulf so put some clothes on-

-WHAT THE FUCK. Why do we keep getting new headmasters instead of the ones we’ve already terrorized into submission?? Now we have to ‘show BJ a good time’ and ‘maybe we could give BJ a tour’, I’d honestly rather give BJ a bj and get this shit over with, I’m tired of threatening headmasters with murder. Hopefully it doesn’t come to sexual favors but if it does, Wyatt, you’re up.

-Pourquoi moi???

Pourquoi toi still haven’t gotten promoted and toi sleep 22 hours a day, it’s high time toi pulled your weight around here.

Good, that’s the spirit.

-Bonjour, monsieur Headmastér! I wòuld introdûce yoù to Wûlf but hé is très busý with unpàid çhild labόr.

-Haha, what a hilarious joke, Mr. Union!

-Alright Cinderello, after you’re done cleaning the flooding shower you’re going to need to jump out the second floor window and go study in the crypt, so the headmaster doesn’t see you and ask you any uncomfortable questions about whether I acknowledge you as my son. I have to go help your father charm our guest by giving my trademarked speech on how I never got impregnated by aliens and what a blow it was to humanity’s future.

-Ok Mr. Jojo!

-For the last time Wulf, it’s not ‘Mr. Jojo’, it’s ‘Mr. Union’. God.

-Ah hello there Headmaster BJ, apologies for my lateness, I was tucking little Wulf in bed because I definitely acknowledge him as my son. As I do all 3 of my children and not just Cyneswith. Ask anyone! But not Wulf or whatshername.. I want to say Shenar? Anyway, now that that’s been cleared up, what are we talking about here? The fact I never got impregnated by aliens and what a terrible blow it was to humanity’s future? I assumed as much.

-Haha aliens?! Well you are just a family of crack ups, does your son share this amazing sense of humor?

-Oh yes yes he definitely does, and he is definitely OUR son, that’s exactly how I view him as well, not solely as Wyatt’s offspring just because he appears to not have a drop of my DNA. I mean who even cares about that? Not me, that’s for certain. Yes, Wulf was just telling me the funniest joke while I was reading Cinderella to him before I put him to bed-

-Man, it’s so hard to concentrate on math with a broken leg from jumping out the window and Grandpa’s disembodied head floating around.

Grandpa’s disembodied head??

OH FUCK KOMEI

-What?

Nothing! Looking good! The decision to delete default replacements didn’t affect you in any way!

-Thank god, have you seen Vic with that base game hair? Talk about scary.

Yes, talk about scary indeed. Do you happen to know if the matchmaker performs the occasional exorcism?

-No idea.

Well she hates me anyway so that was solution was dead in the water. I have to go back to the headmaster fuckery now, but I want you to know I’m really sorry for what Salome did to you.

-Sό, monsieur Headmastér, the όnly tràck reçord which est bettér than the όne we havé with bébés wόrking, est the oné we havé with our animàls rûnning awaý!

-Oh my.

-He’s joking, he’s joking Headmaster BJ, we’re both excellent pet owners and excellent parents, if you’ll excuse me the phone is ringing-

-Cyneswith darling! An adult bartender is calling for you and he has the Komei face! You might be 14 but he’s clearly future husband material!

-Be right there, daddy!

-Alright, I think I’ve seen enough here.

No you haven’t! Wyatt, take off your robe!

-No need, I’ve made up my mind..

-..you’re obviously a perfect match for our school!

What the hell? How? Even by our standards we legit didn’t do shit.

-Headmaster Jitmakusol left a very distraught letter regarding your family before he was institutionalized, the gist of it being it is pointless to try and keep you people out of the school, and his successor should simply ‘roll with it’.

Well ok then! Pleasure doing business with you, BJ.

-The pleasure was all mine, please don’t ever contact me again.

We’ll make sure to be in touch.

In the meantime, Komei has recovered his body!

-Why me? WHY ALWAYS ME? CYNESWITH IS RIGHT THERE

-Sorry honey, we play poker for it every night and Victor won dibs on Cyneswith.

-That’s right, the first one to scare everyone gets ghost-bingo!

Are you fuckers playing ghost-poker or ghost-bingo?

-It’s a hybrid, we have a lot of time on our hands, being dead and all, so we developed an overcomplicated gambling system for our scares.

Yea ok congrats Victor, now can you fuck off before you actually do kill one of the kids?? They have 10/10/9 energy, they literally never sleep.

-No can do, if you actually kill someone you get Yahtzee!

How many fucking games are involved in this bullshit?

-We told you, we have a lot of time on our hands. SUCK IT VICTOR, I WIN FOR THE NIGHT

Win for the night? Who cares about that, you have Wyatt cornered, go for the Yahtzee!

-Oh, but you said our games were bullshit!

That’s before I realized Wyatt was awake for his allotted 2 hours per day non-sleeping time. Wyatt istfg bro, are you half French-Arab and half panda?

-Pandàs eàt for 14 hourès idiόt, ne pas slèèp.

Well look who knows a suspicious amount about pandas now! Almost like he’s descended from them.

Oh good, everyone’s favorite couple simultaneously has the day off. How about I take you two out for a nice date at Londoste since you’re about 55 years old?

-How about hard pass on that architectural monstrosity of a restaurant and we hang out for 6 hours in our front yard instead?

-Oui, oui! Très blanc garbagè of us!

Well at least we’re not forgetting our roots.

Alright then, we’ve crossed into white trash territory unironically with the yard pda and we’re also freezing to death, how about we take this inside?

-Non!

-Yes, non indeed! I love how frozen your hands are, dear, it’s like you’re a real corpse!

Oh my G-

-Catch me, Creature!

-Je t'aime, dr. Frankènstèin!

Ok, new suggestion, how about instead of going inside we visit a nice church?

-How abοùt you lôôk awày, pervertir!

Bold words from someone doing Frankenstein roleplay, and I’D LOVE TO, but the kids are at school and the animals are sleeping, so there’s no looking away from whatever the fuck this is.

Oh thank god, Cyneswith is back from school and ready to cockblock her parents as always. First time I’m genuinely happy to see you, Cyn.

-Straight A’s again! Ah, we may only have one child but she is THE BEST. Wyatt dear, come here to congratulate Cyneswith and further inflate her ego. Wyatt?

-Why is he ignoring my straight A’s, daddy?!

-Ugh, he’s probably jealous since everyone is jealous of you, darling. Pay him no mind, let’s go inside so I can give you the diamond tiara I got you for your birthday.

-But my birthday is in four months, what will you get me then?

-A throne to go with it and anything you want from Sihara’s and the other one’s rooms?

-They have no rooms, remember? They both sleep in the crypt.

-Right, well how about I act like I got them presents, give them to you and make them watch as you unwrap them?

-Aw daddy💗

-Je ne pas fèèl bien..

Yes, you’re dying, so it’d be some real Frankenstein shit if you did feel bien.

Is this Komei-clone bartender serious, first he calls while the headmaster is over, now he calls while we’re dying, FEEL THE FUCKING ROOM PAL

..and there we go. RIP Wyatt, it’s been sorta ok having you in the fami-

-WTF HOW ARE YOU ALIVE

-HA. I lièd, I AM hàlf pandà and mon beàr gènes protéct moi!

GODDAMMIT I KNEW IT. Is that why the one child you gave birth to is your exact clone?

-Oui! Wulf est 1/4 pandà, et toi wènt et namèd him WULF.

Well, to be fair, not a lot of famous pandas I could have named him after even if I knew.

-Toi çould hàve namèd him Pandà!

Oh man, Panda Union does have a nice ring to it, especially next to the other names.. ~Shajar~, ~Cyneswith~ and PANDA. Thanks a lot for depriving me of the opportunity by withholding your genetic info.

-Je think Wulf est ontό it..

Onto the fact he’s 1/4 panda? I highly doubt that.

Yea nevermind, he knows.

Oh great, Shajar has brought yet another uggo with a culturally appropriative hairstyle home from school.

-That’s what you get for letting her out of the crypt.

Give it a rest, Jojo, we’ve had enough of your incredible parenting to last us 10 lifetimes at this point.

-And then it goes: I send the thunder from the sky, I send the fire raining down, I send a hail of burning ice, on every field, on every town! I send the locusts on a wind, such as the world has never seen, on every leaf, on every stalk, until there's nothing left of green! I send my scourge, I send my sword, THUS SAITH THE LORD🎵

-Great, thank you, Shajar, for singing the entirety of the ‘10 Plagues’ song from The Prince of Egypt 27 times. I’m really sorry but I have to go home now-

-It-was-nice-to-meet-you noogie!

..Shajar, please, PLEASE see a doctor.

-My sister Shajar may be super popular, spoiled and beloved-

WHAT LMAO

-but I have the friendship of animals and that’s all that matters!

Yea, Cyn, no offense, but it feels like you’re trying to cultivate an underdog Disney princess persona for yourself that is the exact opposite of actual family dynamics around here.

-What makes you say that?

Your tiara and throne vs Shajar sleeping in the crypt come to mind.

-So to be an underdog you need to be a loser?

I mean narrative-wise kinda, yea.

-Message received.

No, no that wasn’t a message-

-Yes it was and I got you, loud and clear.

Oh god.

-WHAT? YOU’RE REJECTING ME BECAUSE I’M TOO PRETTY? MY HEART IS BROKEN! I DON’T THINK I’LL EVER GET OVER THIS

-Uh, who are you again? Shajar invited me over, ordered a pizza and has been hiding in the bushes for 1 hour waiting to noogie the delivery guy.

-I CAN’T BELIEVE WHAT I’M HEARING! I HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO SING ABOUT THIS IN AN ENCHANTED FOREST FOR ABOUT 3 AND A HALF MINUTES

Jfc, where are the ghosts when you need them.

-Mommy has dibs on you tonight, Jojo!

-Mom please no! Your hair is so damn hideous! Just stay in your urn until the default replacement has been put back!

-Ah excellent, I have upgraded my robotic abilities up to cleanbot level!

That actually is excellent, I really want us to fire Kaylynn.

-Cleanbots don’t change cat litter.

..UGH then why even bother, Jojo? The cat shit is 90% of our problems, make something that fixes that or stop wasting airtime with your nonsense. Istg some people.

-Alright sis, how about we go out again tonight and ~play the field~? If I get rejected by a couple more mean boys I can earn my underdog princess badge!

-You are so stupid, Cyneswith, if you want to earn your underdog badge all you need to do is board a doomed ship, Titanic style, and then give the floating door to someone you’ve known for a couple of days while you selflessly and pointlessly drown in the freezing ocean despite the fact you could take turns sharing the door.

-But then I would be dead.

-I know right? Everybody wins. Let’s go get you some tickets.

Yea, let’s not, but let’s get out of here because the ghosts are out of fucking control and you two aren’t sleeping anytime soon.

-Shaj-and-Cyn-in-da-club noogie!

Shajar FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, ENOUGH.

OMG IT’S SOPHIE MIGUEL. SOPHIE MIGUEL IN THE HOUSE

-Whaddup dildos, ‘tis I, Sophie fucking Miguel, the meanest townie teen there is. I’ve only taken 4 steps into this place and I can already tell I’m surrounded by a bunch of beta turbocucks.

SHAJAR GO TALK TO HER!!!!!

-HEY BITCH, I’M NOT A BETA TURBOCUCK, I’M ALPHA AS FUCK. I’M NAMED AFTER SHAJAR AL-DURR! DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHO THAT IS?

SHAJ WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING, WHAT IS THIS APPROACH

-Of course I do, the first Mamluk Sultana of Egypt. Nice.

OMG THAT SHIT WORKED. LAND THE PLANE SHAJ

-Ohhhhhhhh😍 Do you want to talk some more?? Do you like the 10 Plagues song from the Prince of Egypt???

-Nop, as suddenly as I came into your life, I’m dramatically getting the fuck out for no discernible reason, cause that’s just how I roll. Gone with the wind, baby! I’m like an outdoor cat. You’ll never see me again.

-Oh but I will..

YES YOU WILL SHAJ. I’m so on board this particular Titanicesque crackship that it’s un.real. I mean Sophie Miguel literally came into this place, talked to Shajar for less than one minute and then left the bar entirely, in turn leaving us dick in hand. What.an.icon.

In the meantime Cyneswith.. did this. Game-changing night for everyone!

#gen 2 #ts2

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