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donatellawritings · 2 months

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𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ 🐇 introducing princess!reader, ugh i love her sm <3

you were fairly new to kildare island, completely wet behind your chanel-adorned ears. it had only been a few days, since your parents had made the switch from the cozy countryside of puerto rico, unpacking their final cardboard box that harshly clashed against the dreamy interior of your bright and sunny lakeside home. you weren’t surprised that your parents had chosen such a picturesque home of grandeur, they always had a niche for the finer things in life, a trait that was undoubtedly passed down to you.

you see, you had always been a spoiled princess, always insisting of having anything and everything that you wanted — and it was always given to you, without question. perhaps it was the fact that you were an only child? who cares, you were the precious little girl that your parents would go to the ends of the earth for, so why should you accept anything less, from anyone else?

as privileged as it may seem, you did have to admit that you loved living a life where you were pampered and had every single need, no matter how minute or ridiculous, fulfilled without question. you always wore the finest of fabrics from the most upscale brands, exercised in the cutest athleisure wear as you worked up a sweat on your peloton, i mean, you even made it a point to get your hair and nails done every other week. your parents’ banking statements were essays long, detailing your multiple visits to sephora, mainland boutiques, your hefty car note, and monthly spa membership fees.

but, you were far from a ditzy girl, in fact, you were so entitled to the point where you turned your button nose upward at every guy who approached you. you had yet to find a man who didn’t allow you to walk him like a pathetic little dog, you knew that you needed a man who would put you in your place, yet shower you with adornment and lavish gifts.

carefully scraping the tiny smear of residual lipgloss with the tips of your long almond french-manicured nails, you huffed as you flipped your blown-out hair over your shoulder. “ma, m’going to drop this off now!” you called out, tugging on your light grey mini skirt, your fingers dancing over the black lace and pink ribbon adornment, before you grabbed ahold of the white ceramic tray of lemon squares that your mother prepared the night prior.

you’d been given the task of introducing yourself to your neighbors, especially since you father had made it a point to extend the services of his construction company to the fellow members of the country club. your parents had praised you for being their sweet little girl who would be staying home for college to the community, so it was now your turn to seal your reputation as the perfect girl next door, and help uphold your parents’ fresh reputation as newcomers on figure 8.

your perky tits were cutely pushed up against the undone buttons of your undersized button up top, your gold rosary glinting against the sunlight as you made your chanel mules stepped out on the floorboards of your front porch.

𝜗୧

after about an hour of walking from door to door and exchanging your rehearsed pleasantries, while offering the sweet and tangy sticky treat, you’d finally made it to the final home that seemed to overlook the entirety of the community. your puffy cheeks ached from your stretched smile as the soles of your french-pedicure feet throbbed — maybe wearing heels as you walked from porch to porch wasn’t the smartest idea? balancing the tray of lemon gooey lemon squares onto one hand, you brushed a strand of hair from your extended lashes, letting out a small huff, before you mushed your finger into the doorbell.

it didn’t take long before the front door was answered, your rehearsed introduction flitting away from you as you looked up at the blue eyes that stared down at you. your lipstick stained lips parted as the twenty-something year old man stood, his jaw tight as he raised his eyebrows at you, before his eyes shamelessly fell to your pushed-up tits, “i, uh, hi! my family and i recently moved in, so i just wanted to introduce myself,” you smiled, a blush creeping to your cheeks as you revealed your name to the tall man.

“ah, s’that right?” he questioned, clearing throat with a nod to himself as he took it upon himself to lift the plastic wrap that concealed the melted lemon squares, before his curtain bangs fell in front of his eyes. “y’walked all the way here, by yourself, huh,” he mumbled, placing the wrapping to close around the tray, before bringing his intimidating gaze to yours.

with a nod, you nudged the tray in his direction, “would you like one? my mother made them fresh!” you beamed, restoring your role as the mannered girl next door, your trained resolve slowly burning away under the unforgiving north carolina sun.

oh, how he saw right through you.

wordlessly, the young man lifted the plastic wrap, one more, being the small gooey treat to his lips as he kept his eyes on yours, not missing the way you swallowed thickly as he wiped the corners of his pink lips with his ringed index finger and thumb. you watched pathetically with your lips parted as he licked over his lips, “rafe cameron,” he smiled smugly, extending a hand to you.

there was something dark, yet tantalizing about the young man that towered over you, it even brought an undeniable ache to the bundle of nerves between your plush thighs.

accepting his hand, you batted your dolly lashes at rafe, a warmth growing in your tummy as his large hand enveloped yours in a firm grip, his thumb barely kneading into the soft skin between your forefinger and thumb.

deciding to fall back into your stuck-up persona, you were the first to break the hold between you and race, your eyes squinting a bit as you took one step backwards, “it was a pleasure, rafe,” you sang, clutching the empty tray to be tucked into your side.

spinning on your heels, you could feel rafe staring at the under-curve of your soft ass that peeked beneath the tight knit fabric of your skirt, watching as your hips swayed with each step you took. it wasn’t until you were far enough from the young man that you tugged on your skirt to remain secure around your thighs. internally, you scolded yourself for losing event the slightest bit of your cool. you were too good for him, you were too good for him. way too good.

rafe knew this as well, yet he was always proactive when it came to getting what he wanted — even if he had to get a little dirty.

#divider / xxbimbobunnyxx #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron #obx #obx imagine #princess!reader #rafe x reader

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sc0tters · 9 months

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Birthday Blues | Jack Hughes

summary: it’s Jacks 22nd birthday but when you’re so caught up making things perfect he starts to think you’ve forgotten what day it is.

request: yes/no

warnings: mentions of alcohol, use of the word y/n once or twice.

word count: 1.53k

authors note: literally started this piece in Australia and finished it in Bali but I rewrote so many parts of it that it took me a whole 6 hour flight to get this edited 😭.

Jack didn’t consider himself to be a nervous person.

Truly, it was tough to be one when you were the first pick in your respective draft year and as a middle child.

But around you it was a different story. You were on the media team for the devils and honestly he didn’t know what it meant to feel starstruck or in awe of someone until he met you.

Without any effort at all you managed to totally knock him off of his feet. Maybe it was the fact that you were older or maybe it was the fact that in a stream of people treating him like some he was a godsend, you were there to remind him that at the end of the day he was only human, but you never made him feel bad.

Jack had learnt your coffee order and after a while he started bringing it to you every day “he likes you, know that right?” Nico asked with an amused smirk on his face as he watched his teammate walk out of her office.

All you could do was smile “he’s just being polite.” That was what you told yourself each time the forward did anything for you.

Like the time he brought you a tub of ice cream from your favourite ice cream parlour in New York when he learnt that your cat passed away.

The things he did went from grand like the ice cream to just saying hello and goodbye at the beginning and end of each work day.

Part of you had to admit that you liked Jack but an even bigger part of you had to admit that you appreciated him. Since he came to the team there wasn’t a single night out that you went on where you had to walk home alone.

You had learnt after meeting his parents that it was a value that was most likely instilled in him through his parents.

All of those things made you wonder if that was the reason why you were putting so much effort into his birthday celebrations.

The boys didn’t know why but you seemed to enjoy party planning and as a result you were the one who would get tasked with planning what the team would do for the in season birthdays.

Luckily for Jack this year his birthday fell on on the first day off of a four day gap where the team weren’t playing games so they were allowed to celebrate the Hughes boy with a bit of alcohol involved.

The boys had an early morning training session where they were all so invested in the events of the day that it gave you the time to sneak out for some last minute errands “y/n!” Jack called out causing your eyes to go wide.

You had gone to pick up his present, not because you only decided to shop for it today but because it was only ready to be picked up today. You had gotten him a bracelet that had ‘go get em’ on the underside of the plate that had the day he made his debut engraved on it. The saying was something that usually fell from your lips before a game “hi Jack!” You awkwardly forced a smile onto your lips as you tried to hide the bag from him. Jack had a knack for being nosey when it came to you and the things you did.

So it was safe to say that you were somewhat panicking “you got any plans tonight?” The hockey player asked as he cocked his head ignoring your awkward stance.

He assumed you were going to be at the bar but nobody seemed to mention anything “nope,” you lied as you began to panic “I’ve got a night at home calling my name.” You explained as you shrugged. Lying was never your forte especially not when the guy in front of you looked as sad as Jack currently did “I should get back to my office,” you announced as you quickly spun on your head as you make your way back to your office before you blurted out what you had done. Jack knew his parents were in town because they were coming for the game, but what he didn’t know was that you had convinced both of his brothers to come into town for it too and you actually had to go pick the two of them up.

To say that Jack was heartbroken was dramatic but truthful. With the amount of messages that he had gotten about his birthday he truly thought that you would have at least said a little happy birthday to him, you usually did but now it seemed like you had forgotten about the day.

He also felt a little bit isolated in a sense because he hadn’t told anyone that he liked you, sure Nico and most of his teammates had picked up on it and sent the relentless string of teasing his way but he usually just ignored it.

The Devils player actually had to be dragged out of his apartment by his parents to go to the bar because he truly didn’t want to go out. Part of him wanted to show up at your door unannounced just so that he could give you a piece of his mind, but the more clear thinking part of him knew that it would never work as he could never be mad or even try to yell at you.

On the other hand you were feeling like you finally had a moment to breathe now that Quinn and Luke were in the bar “he’s gonna be fine,” Quinn smiled as he squeezed his hand on your shoulder. Both boys could tell that you were nervous wanting everything to go right for Jacks birthday “what are you doing here?” The Devils player only seemed to care that the girl had arrived “yeah I’ll just go back to Michigan then.” Luke scoffed drawing a laugh from your lips.

You had met the youngest Hughes boy a few times over the years especially after he got drafted by the Devils and his bluntness never failed to make you laugh “shut up,” Jack rolled his eyes as he pulled his brothers into a hug.

The older Devils player was surprised to see his siblings too “y/n actually got us here,” Quinn pointed out as he sent you a smirk, after hearing Ellen gush about you last year at the lake house the eldest Hughes boy knew that you were special to his brother.

Your cheeks turned pink as Jacks eyes never left you “thanks for this,” he grinned as he wrapped his arms around you.

All you could do was nod as you tried to remain calm “just doing my job,” you smiled as you shrugged.

Jacks party had gone down a blast. You seriously didn’t think that the players found a moment actually stop moving as everyone just continued drinking and dancing.

But like all good parties and age this one was one you were starting to feel in your feet “where are you going?” Jack asked as he watched you begin to make your out of the door.

He always seemed to notice you like wherever you went his eyes followed “it’s time for me to call it a night.” You explained as you were looking forward to the warm bubble bath that was calling your name.

The boy couldn’t help it when he frowned “I’ll walk you home.” The hockey players favourite bar was only four minutes away from your apartment.

Your heart warmed at the offer “stay with your family.” You shook your head as you turned down his offer.

But Jack didn’t seem to listen as he placed his hand on the small of your back “they won’t notice that I’m gone.” He pointed out as he started walking with you.

You sucked at your teeth as you finally found the curiosity within yourself to ask him what Nico continuously pointed out “why are you so caring?”

Jack smiled at the compliment “you’re an easy person to care for,”he pointed out as he shrugged.

The street was dead silent as you turned to face him letting the street light hit your face “how’d I get so lucky?” You blurted out as you pursed your lips together.

The boy licked his lips at your question “I ask myself that all the time,” he confessed as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

It drew a laugh from your mouth “you’re such a simp,” you pointed out with a smirk “only for you,” Jack was quick to shoot that statement back as it caused you to realise that Nico was right.

Jack did have a crush on you.

You rolled your eyes as you grabbed the collar of his shirt “shut up,” you mumbled as you captured his lips in a kiss.

It was something you had waited to do for months.

Something Jack wanted to do from the moment he met you.

This was officially the best birthday he could have ever asked for.

#jack hughes #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes one shot #jack hughes x you #jack hughes x reader #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #nhl oneshot #hockey imagines #imagines #oneshots #amber writes fics

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fyodorloveclub · 1 year

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𝑆𝑇𝐴𝑌 𝑀𝐼𝑁𝐸.

♙ pairing: son!fyodor x reader

♙ cw: DARK CONTENT!! (i)ncest, yandere!fyodor, vaginal sex, handjob, sub(ish) fyodor, 18+ only minors dni!! it is mentioned, but fyodor is an adult

♙ notes: starting off with a bang for my first 1k event fic, dedicated to my one and only beloved kal @hnnnnnnnmscorner ♡ ♡

♙ wc: 1.8k

⇢ dark content disclaimer: pls remember this is entirely fiction with absolutely NO reflection of reality! i do not condone this nor any other dc i write, pls just block or unfollow if you dont like it, and do NOT report or leave hate comments.

Your son, Fyodor, always seemed to have an emergency whenever you had a date set up.

“I need you, Mommy,” Fyodor whined over the phone, sniffling. Your heart broke hearing his despaired sobs, exactly like Fyodor knew it would.

“Don’t worry, baby,” you cooed as you haphazardly gathered your belongings and offered your date an apologetic look. “Mommy’s here for you.”

Fyodor mumbled a sniffled thank you, before hanging up, as a knowing smirk spread across his face.

You had been single ever since Fyodor could remember, and to him, that’s how it needed to stay. As an only child, he always had all of your attention and was comfortably used to being the center of your world. You loved him more than anyone else, and Fyodor would be six feet under before he ever let that change.

You’d been through countless dates, had countless almost-boyfriends, but could never seem to understand why none of them stuck. Was your job too demanding? Did you not call or text enough? Were you just that unlikable? It was hilarious how oblivious you were.

You somehow couldn’t – or refused – to see how your son was purposely fucking up every potential romantic relationship so he could ensure he remained the most important person and thing in his life.

And he had a lot of fun doing it, too. He loved acting happy and supportive whenever you came home from work telling him about a new blind date you had been set up on because he loved seeing you smile, though the rage that bubbled up inside him thinking about your attention being on another man made him nauseous. But by doing so, he could overplay the sad boy act when they finally ended things or even ghosted you, expertly timed tears slipping down his cheeks as he hugged you tight.

He really just wishes he could see the faces of all the men you’ve bailed on when they realize they’re missing out on sex that night because your adult son called crying for mommy. Especially the repeat offenders who put up with the antics much longer than they should’ve – what they looked like when, once again, your precious Fedya’s face popped up on your phone alongside his special ringtone. God it was fun.

You fly through the front door, face flushed as you arrive home, searching for your distressed son.

“Honey?” you called out.

“I’m in here,” he replied, voice cracking and dripping with tears – in your room.

You kicked your shoes and jacket off before hurrying up the stairs, peaking your head through the doorframe to see Fyodor curled in on himself, sobbing.

He had watched your location in real time as you drove home, so he knew exactly when to turn on the waterworks – approximately eight minutes before you arrived to allow for a perfectly flushed face, puffy eyes, and runny nose to make it seem like he’d been crying for hours.

And it fooled you every time. You rushed over to the bed to sit, back leaned against the headboard, and pulled him into your lap. He curled up into you instinctively, fitting against you perfectly like he had his whole life. You pet his mussed, dark hair with one hand as you hold him tight to your chest with the other, as his tears continue to spill onto your shoulder.

“It’s okay, Fedya baby, it’s okay. Mommy’s got you.”

He only sniffed in response, seemingly too in distress communicate verbally.

“Can I ask what happened?” You asked, very, very delicately.

“Just r-really missed you, and started panicking, is all,” Fyodor hiccupped. You just pulled him closer to you, tears collecting at the corners of your own eyes now.

He wrapped his arms tight around your neck and buried his face into your top.

“Is there anything Mommy can do to make it better?”

The words Fyodor had been waiting for. A small smirk played across his lips where his face was hidden from your view, but wiped it away before pulling back and looking at you. He looked a mess – his long hair tangled and tousled every which way, his cheeks and nose tomato red, and lips torn to shreds from where he had been anxiously chewing on them. You offered him a gentle smile, bringing one hand up to tuck a lock of black hair behind his ear.

“Can you-” he used a hand to adjust the crotch of his pants. “Can you… help me?”

Your eyes flicked down to where his hand just was to see a slight tent forming. You smiled – it was easy when this was all it took to cheer him up.

“Of course I will, honey.”

Your hand slithered into his sleep pants looking up at him for approval before you slipped past the waistband of his boxers. Fyodor pretended to wipe away more tears to hide the menacing smirk he couldn’t help from forming as he got exactly what he wanted – you.

Fyodor groaned as your familiar fingers wrapped around his half-hard cock, thumbing briefly at the slit to gather the dribble of precum that had already begun forming.

You spit in your hand for extra lube before properly jerking him off. He couldn’t help but harden up quickly – he had been waiting for this basically all day, and he was only human.

“Were you really this excited for me?” you teased, squeezing his length and making him yelp.

“Just missed you, is all…” he grumbled, repeating himself.

He couldn’t help but fuck up into your expert fist, a little too desperate for the feeling of your hot palms against his now aching cock.

Fyodor was coming undone fast, and you, of course, could tell. The way his face contorted and hips spasmed were telltale signs that your son was about to cum, so you quickened the speed of your jerks to encourage him.

“C’mon my love, cum for Mommy,” you cooed into his ear. He whined.

“Wait wait wait-” Fyodor suddenly exclaimed, tugging at your wrist.

You immediately stopped, looking up at your son still sitting in your lap, eyes full of concern.

“What’s wrong, Fedya?”

“Can I-” Fyodor started, eyes widening before he covered his face with his hands. You could barely hear the following nevermind he mumbled, already soft words muffled by his palms.

You wrapped your fingers around his wrists and tugged gently.

“Look at me, sweetheart. Can you, what?”

“It’s selfish, Mommy.” He couldn’t meet your eyes.

“You’re allowed to be selfish sometimes, baby,” you reassured, offering him a gentle smile.

“Can I have…. more?” he asked shyly.

“More?” you cocked your head.

“…More. Of you.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to make sense of what he was saying, until it clicked.

“You want Mommy’s cunt?”

Suddenly his violet gaze met yours as you uttered the exact words he wanted to hear. Fyodor almost wanted to clap and cheer at how perfectly you had been following the script he had outlined in his head, of how tonight was to go. Of how he was going to ensure that you remained under his thumb, even if you never realized it. Just another step in the direction of making sure he would remain the only man in your life.

“Is that okay?” he almost squeaked, making sure not to fall out of character.

You just laughed and shook your head affectionately.

“C’mere, baby.”

Soon Fyodor was on his back against the mattress, looking up at you as you now straddled his lap. You still had the softest, most loving expression with a gleam in your eye.

“Let Mommy do it for you,” you whispered.

He nodded against the pillow, still playing the shy boy act.

Sucking in a sharp breath, Fyodor stared as you pulled your dress up over your head, leaving you only in your underwear on top of him. Surely this was what your date from earlier had been hoping to see, but it was all for Fyodor. It always would be.

You shifted off him momentarily to gently shimmy his sleep pants and boxers all the way off, and rid yourself of your panties before resuming your position. Now Fyodor was breathless as your pussy came in contact with his skin, already weeping slick onto his pelvis.

Grabbing his cock into your hand once again, making him hiss, you look back up at him.

“Are you sure you want this, Fedya?” you asked, a hint of nervousness in your voice. You just really didn’t want him to regret this.

“Please,” he whined, grabbing your hips.

You chuckled, running your hand up his chest.

“Okay, my love. Just for you.”

Reality turned into slow motion as Fyodor watched you raise yourself up on your knees, line his painfully throbbing erection up with your entrance, and sink down onto him. The yelp he let out was completely involuntary, as you clenched your tight heat around his cock.

“M-mom- feels so fucking good-” he stuttered, throwing his head back into the pillow.

“Good baby, I’m glad.” You leaned down to press a chaste kiss to his lips, rubbing his cheek with your thumb. “I love you, sweetheart.”

“Love you, t- fuck!” he attempted to reply, cut off by your next moves.

Using your thigh and core strength, you raised yourself off his lap once again before falling back down, moaning at the way his tip brushed directly against your sweet spot. You searched his face for any sign of discomfort but all you could see was the contorted look of pleasure as he involuntarily bucked his hips up into you, overcome with pleasure. It was reassuring enough for you.

Slowly but surely, you fell into a rhythm, using the bedframe behind Fyodor’s head as leverage as you fucked yourself on his cock.

Fyodor was a whining, garbling mess, only able to gasp out single words like fuck! or mommy! He couldn’t do anything, could only watch as you used his cock.

Though it felt good for you too, overwhelmed by the pleasure of Fedya’s length as he filled you up again and again, what felt the best was knowing how happy you were making your darling son. To see the fucked out look on his face as he approached his climax was better than anything else ever could be.

Fyodor was too distracted to properly voice his oncoming orgasm and accidentally spilled his seed inside of you but you didn’t really mind, just climbed off him and used the sheets to wipe yourself off a bit.

Then you were laying on your side next to him and pulled him in close to you, running your fingers up and down the pale skin of his back as he caught his breath.

“So good for me, baby. You did so good for me,” you cooed.

“Thank you, Mommy.” Thank you for staying mine.

#fyodor smut #fyodor x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs smut #fyodor dostoevsky x reader #tw yandere #flora's 1k event

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sigynsilica · 9 months

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Conservatives be like "tHey'Re tRyiNg tO dEcOnStrUcT tHe fAmiLy uNiT"

Yes. Exactly. That is exactly my goal in life.

Then they be like "wElL yOu mUsT wAnT tHe wOrLd tO bE fUlL oF siNgLe pAreNtS"

You think it's LESS family I want? You have it backwards. It's MORE.

Let me explain.

One of the most integral parts of humanity is community. Humans are pack animals. We do better in groups, physically, mentally, and spiritually. Everything humans have accomplished, they did via teamwork.

This is a leading reason why I'm a socialist, because Capitalism is, by definition, the advancement of the individual over the collective. That's a concept that goes against human nature. Capitalism gives credit to one person for what a team of people did, and allows that one person to decide for themself what portions of the benefits of creating something goes to who. This despite the fact that the creation would not and could not be possible without the whole team of people. Even if one person creates one thing, they could not do it without materials harvested or tools invented or concepts thought of by someone else. Somewhere down the line, someone was pushing the buttons.

It's a very isolationist way of thinking, to claim that a CEO deserves more money for producing a product than the assembly line workers who actually made the thing.

This mindset has then been projected onto basically every single aspect of American life. (I can't speak for other countries because I've never been anywhere else)

People are their own human, and that means they can't ask for help. Collaboration is a myth, and the credit for anything really only goes to the head of the endeavor.

Enter the nuclear family.

One mom, one dad, and an assortment of children. The mom stays home and raises the kiddos and cleans the house and makes sure everyone has clean underwear and also finds time for sanity somewhere, while the dad works his butt off at a crappy corporate hellhole of a job. Add in some fundamental Christianity, because America Is A Christian Nation apparently, and you have pressure to homeschool. This only further enforces the isolation, the individual, the Doing Everything By Yourself as the only way to go.

This is why so many conservatives and fundamentalists like the Duggars so much. Think of it! Twenty homeschooled fundamentalist Baptist children, all raised to believe in God, while the dad does Politics and Mission Stuff at the church and the mom homeschools All of them.

And of course you have friends, right? But woe upon thee if your house isn't spick-and-span or the children are being disruptive when they come over. They can't see your mess. They can't see your imperfections. Nobody actually goes to their neighbors to ask for a cup of sugar. You should buy your own sugar. Jeez.

In this mindset and mentality, if your children are "unruly", that reflects badly on you as a parent. Your children are seen as an extension of yourself, and if you don't have everything in your life put together, you're getting judged by randos in the grocery store, now. If both parents need to work, just send your kid to the local daycare. What's that? You can't afford daycare? Hire a babysitter. What's that? You can't afford a babysitter? Hm. More judgement. Get the kid's granny to watch them or something.

So here's the facts. The more adults a child has in their life who show them support and are a safe environment for the child, the more the child will be likely to succeed in their adult life.

And by that definition, yes. I want to destroy the family unit. I want it gone.

The notion that if the two people who were directly responsible for the child's existence can't adequately provide for their child, that's it's a moral failing on their part? That's bullshit. I want it gone. If you need help raising a child, so does everyone else, and it should be socially okay to reach out to a trusted member of your community for help. It should also be socially okay for someone who you trust to want to care for a child with no financial compensation. Children are delightful.

Taking care of a child is hard work. Someone has to be on call 100% of the time for at least the first ten years of that kid's life.

Of course, in making the decision to have children, a parent should consider their capability of caring for the kid. But it shouldn't be their capability of caring for a kid ALONE. No one should have to raise a child alone.

Every parent should have a full support system to fall back on. Every person, let alone parent, should have a community of people who would be willing to help care for other people in their community, especially vulnerable people in that community, like children.

This is what I mean when I say I do want to destroy the family unit. I don't want any child to have to grow up in an environment where the only people who feel responsible for their safety are their parents.

Of course parents are responsible for a kid's safety, more than any other people on the planet, because the parents were the ones who chose to bring the kid into the world.

But they are not the only ones. They should not be alone. There should be no more talk of "well, your parents ought to teach you how to behave," because children learn from everything and everyone around them. You can't stop that. Not even if you try.

The thing is, parents should not, and cannot be the ultimate authority on life for their kids. My parents tried, while simultaneously insisting they weren't perfect, but if you grow up thinking only two people who are Biblically one person are the only ones who are right about things, you're going to have a lot of unlearning to do, no matter who those people are.

Humans, all of us, have a responsibility to look out for each other. Community is our greatest strength, and it's founded on the principle of all of us in a community having each other's backs.

So no more Two Heterosexual People being an island and a solitary beacon of what a family is supposed to be. A family is a community, and we all look out for each other. We all make sure we're safe and we have what we need to live. And we all teach each other things about how the world is.

#youth liberation #boo to christian family values #the whole world is my family #all for one and one for all #exvangelical #deconstructing conservative culture

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swanqueensalad · 1 year

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i’m not sure if you’ve already done something similar but i was wondering if you had any hc for regina’s relationship with clothes? i just feel like there’s so much to dig into with all her mother’s bullshit and how she was raised to value appearances, how performative a lot of her outfits were as the evil queen, the shift in how she dresses after the curse breaks, her and emma’s opposite approaches to how they dress themselves. idk i just feel like if anybody else would also have thoughts on this, it would be you

anon i am literally in love with you for sending me this ask. honestly why have i never done a post on this before!!! this is SO interesting to me!! clothing is definitely a hugely important part of regina's character and journey over the course of the show.

PSA: this turned into a literal play by play biography of regina's life through clothing. ur welcome. also this is totally unedited, we die like men

I think clothing means a lot of different things to Regina. I think she both revels in and resents the glitz and glamour, uses it as her shield, weaponry and armour but also it can be very vulnerable for her... it's a lot

and I agree that, unfortunately like many things with Regina, we have to start by tracking back to her childhood and how Cora raised her

Regina is a young noblewoman in the enchanted forest, and much of her 'value' to her family would lie in making an advantageous marriage. Layer on top of that Cora's absolute single minded determination for success, social climbing and for Regina to become queen one day and you just KNOW appearances were a huge deal when Regina was growing up (we see this threaded through canon too, in Cora magically changing Regina's clothes/hair/makeup for her)

to Cora, Regina's beauty was always a valuable tool she could use, but her brutal ambition would have led to absolute perfectionism.

After all, sweetheart, queens have to be perfect.

I think even when Regina was a very young child, a huge amount of weight was put onto her clothing and how she was presented.

I can imagine Cora choosing elaborate outfits for her infant daughter, dressing her up like a doll and making sure the ribbons in her hair matched exactly, being absolutely critical of everything to ensure her child was the best dressed, the most perfect

And I think this hugely impacted Regina's childhood. Cora would have allowed Regina very little freedom, partially because she was conditioning her to behave like a queen (or just like an obedient pawn for her to do whatever she wanted with) but also partially because Regina literally could not risk getting messy or dirty.

Image is everything, darling.

As child, Regina couldn't really play because she would ruin her dress, or her hair, or scuff her shoes. She had no choice but to occupy herself with the 'proper' pursuits that her mother approved of, because she physically couldn't do anything else. No running, tree climbing, flower picking etc for tiny Regina. Lots of sitting quietly and looking pretty, even as a child.

I can definitely see Cora showing Regina off from an early age, dressing her up like a doll, inviting other noblewomen for tea and dressing Regina better than any of their children, making her sit nicely and quietly.

If Regina were to be 'bad' and accidently dirty her dresses, mess up her hair etc. I think Cora would definitely punish her quite severely. because from day one, Cora was drilling into Regina that her appearance was one of the most valuable and worthwhile things about her. Queens have to be perfect.

And of course, little Regina doesn't want to be a queen, she just wants to go play in the meadow with the other children, but she wants to be a good girl more than anything, because mother hurts her when she's not.

As Regina grows older, I think Cora becomes far more critical of her appearance. A doll like, cute child is far easier to keep 'perfect' than an adolescent girl, and it's also all a huge control tactic for Cora to keep Regina affection starved and desperate to please her. So there would be backhanded comments, the constant pressure to be more beautiful. The feeling started to grow in Regina that she was pretty, just not pretty enough, never enough.

Ik I've talked about this before here (TW for EDs) but I headcanon Cora as absolutely fucking up a young Regina's body image and relationship with food too, controlling/restricting her diet. So I can imagine that dress fittings became a source of enormous stress and pain for an adolescent and teenage Regina.

In the enchanted forest, as a noble, all of Regina's clothes were likely hand made from expensive fabrics. Cora would spare no expense for making her daughter the most fashionable, beautiful, ideal young lady. So there was enormous pressure on Regina to 'wear the clothes well' and to keep them pristine. But these fittings would have been hell, because Cora definitely was stood in the corner, never ever asking Regina's opinions or how she feels in the clothes, but only ever criticizing the fit, asking if her corset could be laced tighter, and despairing over tiny mistakes.

Despite all this though, I do think a young Regina enjoyed clothing and fashion in a way. As much as her mother made it absolute hell, Regina really did like the few dresses she was allowed to have a say in and I think she always liked pretty things, she just wished she was allowed to like them on her own terms.

I think the white dress we see her wearing in a lot of her early EF flashbacks was one of her favourites because it's pretty but also simple and comfortable, something she would have chosen herself and just luckily happened to be considered suitable by her mother.

I've written about it in this fic but I also think Cora would have been actively sexualising Regina from a young age, trying to make her as appealing to suitors and other noblemen as possible to get more power and advantage. This would make Regina very uncomfortable, and I think at this point she really resented all this elaborate clothing and heavy jewelry.

There's also something really interesting in canon ouat costume design I want to discuss because I've never seen it discussed before: in 2x015 The Queen Is Dead, we get a glimpse of the fashions in Leopold's kingdom around the time Regina and Snow were about to meet for the first time. We see Queen Eva, clearly an empowered adult woman, wearing a tightly fitting deep red dress covered in jewels. Meanwhile the ten (ish?) year old Snow White wears a more appropriately girlish frock with puffy sleeves, a simple bodice and full skirts. Around this time, we mostly see Regina dressed in the latter style, implying she is still being dressed and presented more as a young lady/maiden than an adult. The blue dress Cora puts her in to meet King Leopold is a very similar design to Snow's, with full sleeves and skirt; her riding coats are also loose and puffy sleveed; the dress she wears at dinner when married to Leopold is full sleeved and skirted too; the white dress we see her in several times is the exception, but looser still than Eva's style.

I believe the earliest we see Regina in that adult style dress is in Fruit of the Poisonous Tree, when she's years into her marriage and about to kill her husband and seize power. This is a moment of empowerment for her shown through costume, and a clear shift she's gone from girl to woman, which is actually disgusting considering this is at the end of her marriage to the elderly king.

My point here is that I think throughout her marriage the world still saw Regina as a child to a degree, a poor replacement for Eva, and Regina was still very much a young woman, who did not feel any older or freer. Her marriage kept her trapped and unempowered, just like her mother had.

She always had to be beautiful and perfect, and this pressure was amped up even more as queen. I can see a newly married Regina trying so hard in the first few years to always be perfect, constructing elaborate outfits, hair and makeup just like Cora taught her, to try and be good enough for Leopold, to make him more kind to her, to make anyone at court notice her at all, but it never works. She is still only ever objectified or sidelined or both.

When she begins training with Rumple, we start to see Regina developing a new sense of style: she begins wearing darker colours, to mimic her mentor in a way. I think this is very indicative of her mental state, how easily influenced she was, how much she wanted to latch onto this one source of potential hope and power in her life.

But this was of course a transitional period, and I do think it's interesting that we see her in 1x11, seducing Sidney and killing her husband finally wearing one of the long, tight, elegant 'adult' dresses Eva wore as queen. This is when Regina really steps into her own power.

Once again to refer briefly to the same fic I think in the few years leading up to this (remember, as I love to remind everyone, her entire horrific marriage was probably around 8 years at least), Regina began to learn more of her seduction politics, and started to understand how she could manipulate the way men behaved towards her. She started to fully understand what her mother meant, how to choose a dress for the right situation, how to choose a neckline, a lipstick shade, a way of walking and talking.

I think this took her a while to stop feeling disgusted by. At some point, the rush of even this tiny way of grabbing power was exhilarating, long overdue. At some point, that stopped making her skin crawl.

Starting to wear darker colours was I think a way of rebelling against her past self. I really think throughout her reign as the 'evil queen', Regina had to loathe her younger, innocent self because that was the version of her that got hurt, used, raped, manipulated, brokenhearted. It was easier to hate that version of herself, to blame herself for being weak and stupid (Mother's voice in her head, always) than to fully feel the pain she was still in. So the pastels and whites of her youth were completely gone. She buried them, and the girl who loved them, as far as she could.

It also seems like pastels were commonplace in the Enchanted Forest based on every extra in every ballroom scene ever, and at this point Regina was so reliant on her attractiveness as a form of power that wearing dark colours and deep jewel tones was a way to ensure she always stood out, always caught the eye.

As her reign grew, I think the Evil Queen costumes grew more and more extravagant as a show of wealth and power to dazzle the commoners and intimidate all the nobles. Regina was showing them with her style choices that she was in a league of her own. And the more she leaned into it, the glitz and glamour, all the diamonds and makeup, the things she hated as a young girl, the safer she feels. The more hidden. The more superhuman.

The Evil Queen was a physical symbol as well as an idea of who Regina was. I think of it almost like how celebrities have public persona, sexualised and stylised, instantly recognisable and fastidiously designed. I think this made Regina, a physically small woman, much smaller than all the other older, male leaders and rulers, feel protected, confident and powerful.

(I think it's also a defense against the fact that as a very young girl Regina was sexualised by her own mother for a much older man, for his whole court I suppose. Regina has always been taught, through her mother's words and actions, that her beauty and attractiveness correlate to her worth, power and usefulness. And now she sort of enacts that on herself to keep herself safe. Because they can't sexualise her if she's sexualised herself first, they can't be using her if she's letting them and using their lust for her to her own ends. Her beauty keeps her safe. Queens have to be perfect, Regina.)

When we get to Storybrooke, I think it translates somewhat. In this world, political figures are the power symbols, and unfortunately in this world too, female politicians are more successful if they are polished and beautiful. Or so Regina would see it.

Queens have to be perfect, sweetheart.

She upkeeps the Evil Queen thing where she has a recognisable image, this polished perfect professional thing. Though this world is on a much smaller scale, Regina's mindset is not at all. She would never be seen out of the house without a perfect face of makeup, without perfectly done hair, manicured nails, the right outfit, the right shoes. Because queens have to be perfect. You can't show them a single crack in your armour.

It isn't all a chore though. I think Regina really does enjoy her own style, especially in Storybrooke as it is so different to anything Cora or Leopold would have had her wearing, and because it's part of a world she made for herself, there's more of a sense of independence and ownership of her own style. I think she has a really nice sense of routine in doing her makeup and hair, which is good for her too.

But still in Storybrooke, we see Regina using her attractiveness, using seduction as a often reached for tool in her arsenal.

And on the other hand we have Emma.

Now, this is a Regina post but the ask did specify and I do find it interesting and want to discuss, so I'll give a much briefer overview of my headcanons about Emma and her style.

Off the bat I'll say I consider 'Emma's style' as season 1 and 2 Emma. (I'm not going to analyse the straight-girl-style-ification of Emma Swan in the later seasons bc that's another story and also just Bad storytelling imo)

Skinny jeans, boots, tanks, plaid, leather jackets, beanies, baseball shirts. She's mostly casual, can be a bit edgy, a bit lesbian swagger, a bit teenage boy (at times). Sometimes she does a winged liner, sometimes nothing. And she dresses with nothing else in mind but what makes her feel confident and cool and herself.

Because Emma as a kid never really had the freedom to pick her own clothes. The homes got a lot of donations, and sometimes there were cool things she could grab a hold of if she managed to beat the older kids to it, but a lot of the time she was just in whatever hand me downs she could get. Not ideal for a young queer girl trying to work out her identity.

So when she started to establish a life for herself, the first time she buys her red leather jacket etc, these moments are really meaningful to Emma because it's more about being able to own her sense of self and stand on her own two feet in a stable way rather than just being about the clothes.

Which is so beautiful, because it just goes to show that once again Regina and Emma are complimentary opposites. Clothes were never important in Emma's life, so when she gets the chance, she just likes being able to wear whatever the fuck she wants, to never really worry about it, and to feel good. To Regina, clothes were always enormously important and so a great deal of thought and preparation goes into everything she wears.

I think it is interesting the way they interact in this case, because they are so different, and they both find the other one so hot, and I think they also both admire how different it is for the other.

Regina in denial would definitely consider Emma's casualness to be improper and lazy, but deep down, and eventually openly once they grow closer, she knows she admires her freedom and fearlessness.

Meanwhile Emma thinks Regina is the hottest woman on the planet (she's right) and appreciates how perfectly her gf puts outfits together, how good her makeup and skincare collection is.

But Emma can also see the other side of it for Regina too, is one of the few people (perhaps because of her own history with clothes) who can see the strain there. The control and obsession with her own appearance, the perfectionism.

And I think Emma is really good for her in that sense. Emma's own freedom and confidence is a good influence. Because gradually, as they get together and their relationship develops, Regina is able to let down a little more of that mask, bit by bit.

Letting Emma see her with wet hair, her natural curls straight out of the shower. Or in her robe with no makeup on in the mornings. And as they build their life together, Regina finds this immense relief in having someone who sees all of her in every state.

It's not as scary as it once seemed.

And Emma thinks Regina is just as beautiful in leggings and fresh faced as she is with makeup and an expensive dress. (Once again, she is right). This is groundbreaking to Regina, this idea that she can be loved and valued without upkeeping her definition of 'perfection'. That she could be enough as she is, for Emma.

That she is enough, as she is.

And of course, she doesn't always believe that. How can she, after the life she has lived? But she's working on it, and when these feelings of immense vulnerability and insecurity in herself arise, she is able to voice them to Emma (sometimes with a bit of struggle) and Emma holds space for her, listens without judgement, calls Cora a dumb bitch (sometimes) and assures Regina that she is the most beautiful person Emma's ever seen, but that her beauty is not why she fell in love with her, and it's not what makes her worthy.

And slowly, I think Regina starts to get back to finding more joy in fashion. More appreciation, in the way her younger self always wanted.

#i fucking love analysing costumes in media #and i fucking love historical/fantasy fashion #AND i fucking love analysing regina mills #this is the best post ever #christmas came early for miss salad #regina mills meta #regina mills analysis #ouat analysis #regina mills headcanons #regina mills #swan queen #sq #swan mills family #swan queen headcanons #emma swan #fuck king leopold #tw cora #tw leopold #cora mills

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mldniqhts · 1 year

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A Heaven In Ones Hell

Pairing: Marc Spector x Fem!Reader

Summary: through you Marc will learn to love himself with just a few words

How could a mother not be sorry for stripping away a child’s love so easily?

How could a mother not feel any guilt for deliberately ending their son’s childhood so easy with just four words?

Four words. Four single words that have haunted a child’s mind. Four words that have made a mother’s son want to hold his weapon upon himself. Four words that made Marc Spector who he is.

Marc had always hated himself. Even for a brief moment of happiness, there was always thy internalized thought in his head that told him, don’t be happy. You don’t deserve to be happy. You don’t deserve this feeling. You’re not worth any of this.

But to you, he was. To you he was worth everything. Everything. You loved him more than anything, you cherished him like no other person. So, when he let his self-doubt get the best of him, you replied with some of the most heart warming words you could say.

Something so completely different to his mother’s cruel words.

“Why do you put up with me?”, he had asked in the utter silence. The two of you had always been eating dinner together since you’ve met. Call it a tradition, a thing between you and your most prized possession. Your most important person.

The question caught you off guard for a moment. You didn’t know how to exactly answer this sudden question of his. You knew you loved him, and with that you knew if you truly loved someone, you will put up with their flaws. A Heaven in one’s Hell.

You stayed quiet for a few moments, refusing to look at him in the eye in which all he could think of was you didn’t really love him, that’s why you were taking long to reply.

But he didn’t understand. Marc didn’t understand that you love him more than everything, absolutely everything. There was no one like Marc Spector. And that’s when you got it.

Sighing, Marc was about to grab his plate and walk away from the table for the rest of the night. But as soon as he was about to push himself out, you spoke.

And you spoke with some of the most precious words.

“Amongst all these people, Marc, there’s no one like you. There’s only one of you. That’s why I put up with the rest of them. Each one of you there is something so beautiful about them. Steven, Jake,” you looked at him now, a saddening expression displayed all across hoping that your words would break his wall self-hatred.

Marc stayed staring at you, tears threatening to come out as the two of you stared at each other in silence.

Before you continued, your nose twitched, signaling to Marc that you in fact was getting emotional too. “I love you more than everything. You’ve taken my heart since the moment we met and I have not, for one second, ever regretted meeting you.”

That was all he ever needed to hear to just fall beneath a woman like you.

Exhaling, Marc rushed over to you. Pushing yourself away from the table with the chair beneath you, you felt him fall onto his knees, holding a tight grip on your around your torso, burying himself into your legs.

You could feel his tears begin to be soaked by your jeans. You were in shock to his reaction that all you could do was rub his back and allow your fingers to tangle themselves into his hair, letting him fall apart beneath you.

That’s all you could do.

A man you adored so deeply was underneath you, crumbling, falling apart as he let it all go. For this one time in his life he didn’t have the shame to let himself cry like a scared child.

Though a part of him would still hate himself, after this moment Marc had learned that he was in fact worth it. That although the needed his alters, Steven and Jake go help guide him into living a life, he himself was still worth it. That his heart was no broken.

For a son could never hate a mother without a mother hating their son first.

You have taught Marc to reattach love onto himself. That’s all he could ever needed.

#marc spector #marc spector fanfic #marc spector fic #marc spector x reader #moon knight fanfic #moon knight fic #moon knight x reader #marc spector angst #moon knight #moon knight angst

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ariel-seagull-wings · 23 days

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THE MARBLE PRINCESS

@princesssarisa @thealmightyemprex @themousefromfantasyland @professorlehnsherr-almashy @adarkrainbow @hamlet-macbeth-othello @professorlehnsherr-almashy @amalthea9 @faintingheroine @softlytowardthesun @grimoireoffolkloreandfairytales @tamisdava2 @barbossas-wench @allthegoodbobdylanlyricsaretaken

(Greek Folktale)

Once upon a time there lived a couple who had only one child. But what a child: a bold and spirited boy worth ten ordinary children.

All they had besides were two cows and a small field to graze them in. Yet what was the good of two poor cows, especially when their ribs showed through their hides? How much milk could they give? So how could their owners lead anything but a miserable existence?

Still, they could have lived rather better if they had let their cows onto the big meadow next door, which always produced plenty of grass and where no animal had ever grazed.

“Father”, said the boy one day, “why don’t we let our cows feed in the meadow next to ours?”

“Because, my child, that meadow belongs to the wicked giant, and all he ever thinks about is doing evil deeds.”

The boy, however, could not see why so much grass should go to waste, and why a poor couple’s cows should not graze there.

“It’s not fair!”

He would mutter.

And just as his parents were good, kind hearted people, so, too, was the boy. And he was bold as well, so if it ever came to challenging the giant he would not hesitate a moment.

“Listen, father,” he said one day,

“I think we should let our cows go into the giant’s meadow.”

“Are you mad, my son ? All he wants is an excuse to knock our cottage down and take our meadow, just as he has done with all his other neighbors.”

“But, father, if that’s the sort of creature that he is, then we ought to fight him.”

“Oh dear,” muttered the poor man to himself.

“My son is going crazy!”

And to make sure they didn’t run into any trouble he began to lead the cows to pasture on his own, always taking great care that they didn’t get into the giant’s meadow. The boy, who by now had reached fifteen, had one ambition in life: to put up such a fight against the wicked giant that he would no longer be able to do people any harm.

But, as things were, his father wouldn’t give him a single chance to pasture the cows himself. One day, however, his father fell ill and had to stay at home to be cared for by his wife. Then, as there was no other solution, he told his son to go and pasture their two animals.

“But be very careful not to let them get into the giant’s meadow, for if they do, we’re lost.”

“All right, father,” replied the boy.

He didn’t want to upset the sick old man, and so he didn’t allow the cows to stray. The boy kept his word through all the days that followed, so when he got his health back, the father allowed him to go on taking the cows.

But one evening, when the boy came home, the beasts had stomachs as enormous as balloons from eating so much grass.

‘How did they manage to find so much to eat?’ the father wondered. Suddenly his blood ran cold.

“My boy, you didn’t let them get into the wicked giant’s meadow by any chance?”

“Yes,” replied the boy.

“I let them in, and I intend to let them graze there everyday.”

When he heard this, his father froze.

“Are we going to quarrel with a giant like that? Are we seeking our own ruin?”

“I won’t let him do us any harm, father. Our troubles are over now. His are just beginning.”

‘Now our son has gone completely mad,’ said the poor man to himself.

‘But then, what sort of life is this we lead? What does it matter if fate overtakes us an hour earlier than was intended?’

So the boy set off again next day to pasture the cows in the forbidden meadow, and this time with his father’s blessing; but when he arrived the giant himself was standing there.

“What are you doing here, you miserable little worm?” he bellowed fiercely.

“I’m letting the cows eat here because there’s lots of grass.”

“And do you know who this meadow belongs to?”

“Yes, I do. But I brought them here to feed because otherwise the grass would go to waste.”

“How dare you speak to me like that! Don’t you realize who I am?”

“Yes, you are the wicked giant who wouldn’t give a glass of water to his own guardian angel. But I’m not afraid of you!”

“Did you say you’re not afraid of me?”

“Yes. I’m not afraid of you.”

“What impudence! Very well, then, since you’re not afraid, come along with me. I’ll show you where I live, and then we’ll see if you’re afraid or not!”

“All right. Let 's go!”

They walked for some time through the giant’s meadows and his ploughlands until eventually they found themselves in front of a huge, lofty castle.

“This is where I live!” said the giant, bursting with pride, as the guards swung the heavy iron gates open.

They entered a wide courtyard, one half fenced off by metal bars, behind which paced a crowd of animals, from cats and dogs to wolves and lions.

“What are those animals?” the young cowherd asked.

“Don’t ask. You’ll find out soon enough when you join them.”

They carried on and entered the castle.

“Would you like to see all the rooms? Have a good look, and you’ll realize just how much I’m worth. But it won’t do you any good, for in the end you’ll finish up just like all the rest.”

“I’m not going to finish up like anybody. But yes, I would like to see all the rooms.”

“Excellent! Take these keys and unlock them.”

He handed him forty keys.

“Explore at your leisure!” he invited in a mocking voice, and left him alone.

The boy opened the first door.

All he could see inside the room was a single pair of slippers. He put them on, and at once became so light he could jump up and touch the ceiling without the slightest effort. If he had been outdoors, he could have hopped across the broadest river.

He recalled the giant’s words: ‘It won’t do you any good.’

“But it’s going to do me a lot of good!”

Exclaimed the bold youth and he popped the slippers into his bag.

He unlocked the second room and found a small sword with its scabbard. The sword was lying on a round table which was actually no more than a huge log. The boy touched the log with the point of the sword, at which it immediately split into two.

“So this is magic, too,” said the boy, and, sliding the sword into its sheath, he put it in his bag.

He unlocked the third room and found nothing but a cap. He put it on and immediately became invisible. He took it off and became visible once more.

“This will be useful, too,” he said with a smile, and popped it into his bag.

He unlocked the next room. It was full of gold florins. He opened the next. It was heaped with diamonds. He opened another. It was piled with pearls. All the other rooms in turn were filled with similar riches. The boy was dazzled by the giant’s treasures, but he didn’t keep anything.

‘What I’ve already taken will be plenty for me,’ he said to himself.

Two rooms remained. He unlocked the first, and what did he see? On a bed carved with matchless craftsmanship there lay a girl as beautiful as any angel. At first the cowherd thought she was asleep, but he soon realized she had been turned into marble.

His heart beat faster with admiration for her beauty, yet with pain as well, because he pitied her. But it also beat with anger against the wicked giant for doing this evil thing to her.

“I must release her - but how?”

He cried.

“Perhaps I will find a way when I see what secret is hidden in the final room - for if the giant has set a trap for me, that is where it will be. If I come out victorious, what happiness will follow! Everything will end joyfully. I shall release this beautiful maiden and, if she will have me, I will make her my wife!”

Very cautiously, the boy opened the last door. And there before him, with a welcoming smile, stood a tall, striking woman with slanting eyebrows over large dark eyes, and a chin jutting with pride and power. But at the back of the room, which was as vast a great hall, on a lofty, throne-like seat, there sat the evil giant himself.

The woman, who was neither very young nor very old, was holding a rod in her hand. With a wordless gesture, she invited the young man to come forward. He knew at once that he was dealing with a witch, and only took a couple of short steps.

She in turn took two and, with a honeyed smile, stretched out her wand to touch his head. But with one lightning movement the boy snatched the wand from her grasp and snapped it in two.

That did the trick! The witch uttered a cry of terror and despair.

But worst of all the wicked giant toppled headlong from his lofty throne, striking his head a fatal blow.

Now the young herdsman possessed such a kind heart that he felt pity even for the terrible giant, and he ran to his assistance while the witch, her proud wings clipped, cornered in a corner of the hall.

“I am past any help,” the giant groaned.

“I know my time has come. I have been defeated, and you have escaped my clutches. You have not been turned into an animal like the others you saw down in the courtyard, creatures that were once all human beings. Now my castle, with all my riches, my guards and my servants, is yours. You have the forty keys. The last one also unlocks the outer gate. I wanted to do you harm, but now I shall help you instead. In the rear courtyard you will find a winged white horse which cannot only fly but also speak and prophesy. Make friends with it and it will help you more than you can possibly imagine. Use the slippers to jump with, the sword to cut whatever resists an ordinary blade and the cap to make yourself invisible. You have seen the marble maiden. You saw how beautiful she is! She is a princess who I kidnapped because I desired her for my wife but, who knows why, she would not even look at me. I believed that I could gradually win her round; but my longing for that loveliest of maidens aroused the envy of this jealous witch, and she turned her to marble. Pursue her now until she undoes the spell that turned the princess into stone and releases the people she turned into animals.”

As soon as the witch heard the giant’s words, she slipped away. The young man immediately ran after her, but she turned into smoke and vanished. Only her voice could be heard:

“I shall be in the Red Tower. You will never find me there - but even if you do, it will be the end of you.”

The young man at once returned to the giant. He found him surrounded by servants and guards who had rushed to assist their master. But they could do nothing. The wicked giant was dead.

Then they all bowed low to the young man and said:

“We are yours to command, new master!”

But the young herdsman had no time to lose. He hurried to the rear courtyard and found the horse, which neighed fiercely. The boy stroked its neck and spoke to it as though it was human:

“I want to save the Marble Princess. I want to rescue the people who have been turned into animals. You must help me to find the witch who has done all these wicked deeds and has now fled to the Red Tower. If you know where that is, and if you want to do some good, then take me there.”

This time the horse neighed gently and replied:

“I am the only creature who can tell you where the Red Tower is. Climb onto my back and I will take you there, for I can see you are doing this in a good cause. But it is not such a simple matter to capture this witch and make her obey you. So go into the stable and there, in a shelf, you will find a mirror, a penknife and a piece of cloth. These are all magic, and you will need them.”

He then explained to him how these things would prove useful.

The young man went and fetched the things the horse had described and then climbed on its back, and the horse, opening out its huge white wings, soared into the sky.

After they had traveled quite a way, they saw a blue cloud up ahead.

“What is that cloud?”

Enquired the boy.

“That is no cloud. It is the Young Man of the Sea. Let’s go to meet him.”

“Greetings,” said the cowherd when they reached him.

“Welcome to you, young friend. You’re a fine strong lad, and so am I. But to be honest with you, we’re not in the same league as that young fellow who overcame the wicked giant.”

“And if you were to meet him, what would you wish to call him?”

“My brother!”

“Well, I am he - so let’s become brothers!”

They threw their arms around each other, kissed, and then, pricking their fingers, they marked each other with their blood, became brothers and journeyed on together.

After a while they reached a city. In the middle of this city, in a big square, a large crowd had gathered. The king was there with his twelve courtiers and they were all grouped around the ‘Enchanted Marble’, a huge lump of stone which was so enormous that even six men holding hands could not encircle it.

They were all begging God to cut the Marble in two, because they believed that this was the only way to banish misfortune from their city. But God had other things on his mind, and the Marble was so hard that no one who tried to cut it or break it could even make a scratch on its surface.

The young herdsman approached and read an inscription on the Marble which said:

He who cuts me in two with one blow of his sword

Will bestow on the people a mighty reward.

Then the boy drew his magic sword and struck the Marble, which instantly split in two and, marvelous to relate, filled the square with gold florins!

There were so many that even after the people had helped themselves to all they could carry off, as much again was still left for the king.

Everybody then joined in praise of the young man, and the king told him:

“You have done such a great favor to my people and to me that you deserve to take my daughter for your wife.”

“Thank you, your majesty, but let your daughter take my brother, the fine Young Man of the Sea, for I am promised to another, and he is as deserving as I am.”

The king agreed, and the Young Man of the Sea married the fair princess.

Before they went their separate ways, the young herdsman took out the magic mirror he had found in the stable and gave it to his new brother, saying:

“Take this mirror. If you see it cloud over, that will mean I have great need of you, and you must hurry to my aid.”

With these words he mounted the marvelous horse and then soared off into the sky to fly to the Red Tower.

After a while they saw a black cloud.

“Once again, what is that strange cloud?” asked the boy.

“That is no cloud,” the horse replied.

“It is the Young Man of the Land. Let’s go to meet him.”

“Greetings,” the cowherd said as soon as they drew near.

“Welcome to you, young friend. I’m a fine strong lad, and so are you. But we’re not in the same league as that young fellow who overcame the wicked giant and split the enchanted Marble in two with one blow of his sword,” said the Young Man of the Land.

“And if the two of you chanced to meet, what would you choose to call him?”

“My brother!”

“Well, I am he - so let’s become brothers!”

They threw their arms around each other, they kissed, they pricked their fingers and marked each other with their blood, they became brothers, and continued their journey together.

Soon they reached a large city which was divided in two by a great river.

“That is the ‘accursed river’,” said the horse. “They call it that because it's bewitched and every so often it bursts into banks and causes untold damage. It will stop wreaking havoc if it changes course, but this will only happen, they say, if someone can cross it in a single bound. And that, as you can see, is quite impossible.”

At that moment, they heard from down below town-criers proclaiming that the king would give his daughter to any man who could save the city from the accursed river.

“Let’s go down,” said the boy, “down there by the palace.”

They descended quickly and the young man made his way straight to the king.

“Long life to your majesty!” he said.

“I can cross that river with a single bound.”

“I don’t believe it, but I would like to see you try, for wonders often happen. If you succeed, I shall give you not only my daughter but my throne as well.”

The king and his courtiers proceeded to the bank of the river, hoping for some kind of miracle.

Then the boy put on the magic slippers. He gave a great leap and the miracle occurred. The cowherd soared across the broad river.

And then another miracle took place: the river began to boil and foam because now, instead of flowing towards the sea, it turned back in its course. As it flowed backwards, it swelled and swelled until it was strong enough to climb the mountain and then roll down the other side. And as it did so, the irresistible surge of its waters cut the mountain in two, creating a deep ravine.

Through this ravine now flowed the river, which ceased to be accursed and became blessed, because it now watered a whole plain which had till then lain dry and bare.

Overcome with emotion, the king embraced the young man.

“Now you deserve my daughter and the whole of my kingdom,” he said, kissing him.

“No, your majesty,” replied the cowherd, whose mind was constantly upon the Marble Maiden.

“But give your daughter to my brother, the Young Man of the Land, who is more deserving than I am. I cannot marry her.”

So it happened. And when the two brothers parted, the young man said:

“My brother, take this penknife. Leave it as it is, open. But if you ever see it closed, know that I have need of you and hurry to find me, wherever I may be.”

Then he mounted his winged horse and continued his journey toward the Red Tower to find the wicked witch.

Suddenly they saw in front of them a flame colored cloud.

“Once again, what is that fiery cloud?”

“That is no cloud. It is the Young Man of the Skies, the son of the Sun.”

“Greetings to you,” said the cowherd when they reached him.

“Welcome to you, young friend. You’re a fine strong lad, and so am I. But we’re not in the same league as that young fellow who overcame the wicked giant, who split the enchanted marble with one blow of his sword and who crossed the accursed river in a single bound.”

“And if the two of you were to meet, what would you wish to call him?”

“My brother!”

“Well, I am he - so let’s become brothers!”

Straightaway they embraced, kissed, pricked fingers and marked each other with their blood and became brothers.

Journeying on to the Red Tower, they came to a large city. There the king was being driven out of his mind by grief. Every evening, when his daughter went to bed, she would disappear for the whole night, and nobody knew where she went. When she returned, she acted as if she were in a trance.

She always managed to elude anyone who was ordered to keep a watch on her to find out what was happening. Now the king had sent out heralds to proclaim that whoever could find out where his daughter went at night might have her as his wife.

The cowherd learned of this and went to the palace.

“Your majesty, I will discover where your daughter goes.”

“Lots of people had told me that, young man. Some of them I trusted. I gave them whatever assistance they needed, but nothing ever came of it. Tell me, though, what help you want from me so that you, too, may make your attempt.”

“I need nothing. Only allow me to sleep in her room.”

They placed another bed in the princess’s chamber, and the young herdsman went there to sleep.

The princess began to tease him:

“Are you the little chap who’s going to find out where I go at night?”

“I am indeed. And I am going to succeed!”

“Then let me tell you I don’t go anywhere. It’s just an idea that they got hold of.”

“I hope so. Because I am so tired that I don’t want to lose my sleep.”

And he yawned.

The girl lay down on her bed, the young man lay down on his and, after a while, began to snore so convincingly that you would have sworn he really was asleep.

The princess was taken in by it and got out of bed. Walking on tiptoe, she dressed and left the room.

At once the young man got up, too, donned the magic cap, became invisible and followed her.

They reached a magic glade illuminated by thousands of stars which shed an unearthly brightness. Nereids of dazzling beauty were dancing there, and invisible sprites were singing. As soon as the princess arrived, a water-nymph tripped up to her to swathe her neck in pearls, but in her haste she dropped them. With one bound, the invisible young man ran up and snatched the pearls. The nereids searched for them, but when their efforts came to nothing, they brought her more. Then they all joined the dance together with the princess. At some point, while she was dancing with her arms outstretched, the invisible boy ran up, and before you could say ‘knife’, he grabbed her ring.

“My ring! I lost my precious ring!” the princess cried out anxiously.

They searched for it but could find nothing. As for the young herdsman, he ran back to the palace, went to bed and fell asleep, without pretending this time.

At daybreak the princess also returned and when she saw him lying there she laughed mockingly.

When the young man woke up, he went straight to the king.

“I have seen where your daughter goes at night. But I want her to be present when I tell you.”

They went and summoned the princess and the young man began his story.

“Yesterday night, when I was lying in my bed and she was lying in hers, I pretended to fall asleep immediately. Indeed, I snorted. Then she got up, dressed and left.”

“Lies, Father!” shouted the princess.

“I followed her. Don’t ask me how it was she didn’t notice me. I can prove what I’m saying. We walked a long way, her leading and I following behind, until we reached a magic glade in a forest lit by hundreds and thousands of stars.”

“He’s a big liar, Father! Don’t listen to him!”

“There,” continued the young herdsman, “were dancing lovely water-nymphs with dresses woven from spiders’ webs and veils which billowed in the breeze, while the air was filled with the singing of unseen voices. As soon as the princess went to join the dance, a nereid ran to grace her neck with pearls, but she dropped them, and I, unseen by all, picked the pearls up.”

“How can you sit there and listen to such a storyteller?”

Demanded the king’s daughter.

“Look, here they are! Or don’t you recognize them?”

He challenged the princess. Her face turned scarlet when she saw the pearls.

“No, I don’t recognize them,” she mumbled, but with confusion all over her face.

“After I had taken the pearls,” the young man continued, “they brought some more and put them on her. Then she joined the dance, but I again, without being seen by anyone, snatched the princess’s ring from her hand. Here it is. You must all recognize it.”

As soon as the princess saw the ring, she remained rooted to the spot. In despair, she struck her forehead repeatedly with her head.

And then it was as though she was suddenly awakened from a deep slumber, as though she were returning from the world of dreams to reality.

For at that moment, certain awful spells were broken which an evil witch had laid on her.

She felt as if a burden had been lifted from her and, begging forgiveness from her mother and fathers, she burst into tears.

“You shouldn’t cry, my daughter, but rejoice because you have been cured of a terrible sickness. Here is the young man who has made you well. He must become your husband.”

“No, Your Majesty,” replied the young herdsman, “I cannot. My brother, the Young Man of the Skies, will take your daughter. He is more deserving than I am.”

And so it came about.

But on parting from his new brother, he gave him the magic cloth and said:

“Take this cloth, brother. If you see it becoming bloody you must hurry to my side, for I shall have urgent need of you.”

And when they had said their farewells, he mounted the winged horse and together they soared into the sky.

“Take me now, my horse, to the Tower that you know of. Let’s go to seize the witch and force her to lift the spells from the Marble Princess and from the people she has turned into animals.”

Ever obedient, the marvelous horse flew swiftly towards the Red Tower, which could now be faintly seen on the horizon.

Eventually they arrived. The young herdsman was dazzled by the sight of it. It was a huge structure whose battlements brushed the clouds.

All around it was a lofty wall constructed from enormous stones like those which only a Cyclops could lift.

The entrance consisted of two great iron doors bristling with sharp pointed swords, so that from outside you could not approach.

But the young herdsman’s marvelous horse had no difficulty entering the Tower. He soared over the wall, above the heads of the guards. Down below the courtyard they saw lots of animals, just like the ones imprisoned in the giant’s castle.

The young man realized that these, too, had been people once, and that if he failed in his purpose he would become a beast as well.

“Good little horse, now fly up to that Tower there.”

The winged horse flew him straight to the place he pointed out.

The young herdsman jumped down and, magic sword in hand, entered the tower.

Lo and behold, in that very spot, swaying to and fro in a rocking chair, sat the terrible witch.

Startled, she immediately leapt to her feet.

“Don’t move!”

Ordered the young fellow, who may have been short in stature, but was great in spirit.

“Now you will do whatever I command you. For you must surely know that this sword in my hand is the very one which split the enchanted marble.”

The witch bowed her head, admitting her defeat.

“I will do whatever you command,” she said.

“Well done, that’s the idea. So let’s go first to release the people down there in the courtyard, that you turned into animals.”

They went down at once. The witch lifted the spells from the animals and they turned into people again.

“Now order the guards to open the doors and let the people go.”

What choice did she have? She did exactly as the young man told her.

“Now we’ll return to the horse,” he ordered.

Quickly they ascended to the terrace. The young cowherd set her on the horse’s back and mounted up behind her.

“My horse,” he commanded, “fly back now to the castle of the wicked giant.”

The horse spread its broad wings and soared straight into the sky. But a great journey lay ahead of them. After long hours of flying, they needed a rest to drink water and eat some food.

They landed in a city.

As bad luck would have it, the ruler of this city was a friend of the witch. Pretending to make the young man welcome, he managed secretly to remove the magic sword and hide it. As for the wicked witch, she succeeded in finding another place to conceal herself.

The young man was overcome with grief. Was the lovely maiden now doomed to lie like stone forever in the castle of the wicked giant? And were the people the terrible witch had turned to animals in that same castle fated to remain imprisoned forever in its courtyard?

No, that must never be!

Then he remembered his brothers - but would they realize what desperate need he had for them?

Confronted with this great emergency, however, the mirror in the keeping of the Young Man of the Sea grew cloudy; the penknife given to the Young Man of the Land closed of its own accord; while the cloth kept by the Young Man of the Skies grew red with blood. Thus each of them realized that his brother had great need of him and at once mounted his cloud. And even though they lived far apart from one another, in the end they all assembled in the place they had been summoned to.

“What has happened to you, brother? What evil has befallen you?”

“They have taken my sword, and the witch has escaped from me. If I do not find them both, neither will the marble maiden be released, nor will the wicked giant’s animals be restored to human shape again.”

Immediately, the Young Man of the Skies begged his father, the Sun, to cast his strong light on the secret hidden corners of the land and sea.

The Young Man of the Land ordered all the animals, including even the ants, to search everywhere for the stolen sword and the missing witch.

And the Young Man of the Sea commanded all the fish to hunt for the sword and the witch in every nook and cranny of the watery kingdom.

Good news soon came. A dolphin brought the cowherd’s sword up from the bottom of the sea, while shortly afterwards an ant arrived and revealed the hiding-place of the terrible witch.

So evil had no chance to prosper.

Taking up his sword again, the young man hastened to the spot revealed by the ant and found the witch. He seized her by the hair, threw her across the horse’s back, and they flew swiftly to the palace of the wicked giant.

As soon as they arrived and saw the animals, the boy ordered the witch to lift the spells from them.

She had no choice but to undo the magic and they at once turned back into people who, with shouts of joy, thanked the young man who had rescued them.

“And now, forward!” commanded the herdsman, “forward to the chamber where the Marble Princess lies!”

“You’re a fine young man, and I admit you have defeated me,” said the witch.

“For you I have released so many people, both here and at the Red Tower. So couldn’t you do me just one favor in return? Couldn’t that Maiden who stole the wicked giant’s love from me be left to lie in Marble for all time?”

“Delay a moment longer, and it will be the end of you.”

What else could the witch do? She accompanied the herdsman to the place where the beautiful Princess lay. Stretching out her right hand, with a trembling finger she touched the Marble Maiden, muttering secret words which she alone had mastery of.

And lo and behold, in a little while the maiden’s eyes began to flutter.

“It is done,” said the witch to the young herdsman.

“Now say what other commands you have for me.”

“Remove yourself immediately from my sight and be gone forever.”

And as the witch vanished, the beautiful Princess began to regain consciousness.

She opened her eyes completely and cast them about the room until her gaze fell on the handsome young man. She tried to rise, but did not have the strength. The herdsman took her hand and helped her.

“How long have I slept,” she yawned, “and oh! how heavily!”

“That was no sleep. A wicked witch had turned you into marble.”

“Her! Oh, I remember her. But I fear she will do me more harm. And if she cannot, then the giant, the wicked giant, will do me more harm still!”

“Fear no more. The wicked giant has been killed.”

“And the wicked witch has just this minute drowned in the river,” said the herdsman’s three brothers, appearing in the doorway.

“But how did I come to be saved?” asked the fair Maiden.

As if she already knew the answer, she fixed her large bright eyes on the fine young man, the handsome and noble cowherd who had rescued her. And he, by way of reply, lifted her from the bed in his strong arms and drew her into his embrace. And there and then, in the presence of his brothers, whose faces shone with joy, he planted the kiss of love upon her lips.

The very next day, in that castle which now was theirs by right, a splendid wedding was celebrated, followed by a banquet which lasted nine whole days and nights. The young herdsman’s father and mother were there. There were also the princess’s royal parents, who thought they had lost their daughter forever.

There, too, were the bridegroom’s three new brothers, the fine Young Men of the Land, the Sea and the Skies. There as well were all the people the wicked witch had transformed into animals.

And I myself was there - every evening I sat and entertained them with my finest stories.

The servants and the guards rushed to and fro, never quite managing to serve us all, but they were bursting with happiness and high spirits, because they had escaped the clutches of the terrible wicked giant and the even more terrible witch.

Mixing lies with what is true

That’s what folk-tales always do.

But, though magic has its season,

Give me the man who relies on reason!

#greece #folklore #folktales #fairy tales #sleeping beauty #fantasy #literature #the marble princess

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purewhitewolf · 5 months

Text

Perception

@xxrppastxx

"Why did you do that?! You could've killed the Grand Shadow and Lady Brooke with that idiotic stunt! Not to mention, the chaos you bring every day puts us further behind! It's like you want to sabotage our progress! Are you a servant of the evil one? Are you some demon in disguise?!" A furious coworker points at Kaitlyn. Kaitlyn just stares back silently with an uninterested and uncaring look on her face.

"I swear there's no logic to your actions! You even saved the man you keep swearing you're going to murder. Why haven't you done it yet? Are you talking out of your ass, you mentally ill freak of nature?! If you weren't married to the Past Seer, I doubt the Grand Shadow would ever allow you anywhere near them or Quietem. This is exactly why you outsiders don't belong here!"

As the coworker gets more and more heated, boldly scolding and insulting Kaitlyn, Kaitlyn calmly grabs him and pulls him out of the way in time from getting crushed by debris from a weakened door frame.

She finally opens her mouth and blows a strange colorful smoke in his face. "...You all are 'sophomores' .... wise-stupids." Kaitlyn reaches into her pocket and jiggles the various keys and important documents she swiped during her rampages, "So smart... and yet sooooo clueless. Damn, for a bunch of educated colleagues, you all lack such perception of the c r u m b l i n g world around you. So much intelligence... but no actual wisdom. My beloved Past can pick up on things much quicker than you arrogant snobs. She and John are the only ones with real wisdom here, it seems."

A black ashy and gooey material covered in eyes gradually appeared on the walls and floor. It was the same black stuff that leaked from Kaitlyn's skin from time to time. "Samuel isn't the only one capable of scrying onto others. Unlike him... I can do it passively and way better. I can FEEL your movements... I can see your very SOULS with my own essence. I can read your emotions and the most subtle of gestures!" Their noses were touching now as her tone dropped to an ominous warning. "You should be happy you can't read me. Those who know how I think... rarely stay around."

The man didn't even have a chance to reply before Kaitlyn mockingly spoke what she assumed he would say. "Le gasp! You big meanie wolf! You scarwy~ uwu~ I need to cry to mommy and daddy council and tell on you!"

"Tell them what? Who would believe you? I'm just some unstable maniac with 'no logic behind her actions' after all." She leans over the man with her eyes wide open and unsteady, "And do you know what's actually scary about me? What's scary is... not everything I do has a reason. I am genuinely insane and random. Sometimes, I do something so weird and involuntary that even I question myself why I did it. Not every action or personality shift is planned. It's a crowded roulette wheel in this melty mess called a brain. The cold pragmatic sociopath, the overly emotional innocent child, the dumb goofball, the determined warrior, the vulgar pervert, the clever detective, the hearty hero, the charismatic villain, and so much more... none of those personas are complete fakes.... no.... they are ALL genuine sides of me. They are all ME! Every one of them is who I am, even when some contradict the other. They. Are. Me. Every. Single. One. They all take turns at the wheel~ Even they don't always know who is in control half the time. They are so different... yet still me. I'm not sure who is speaking to YOU right now, but WE are all in agreement on sharing this secret with you."

She takes a step back and chuckles devilishly, "Now that you know the truth. What will you do with that information? What CAN you do with that information? The entity before you admits that's she's unstable with brief moments of lucidity and that she is piloted by many fragments of herself. What is your response?"

The man looked as though he was to wet himself. "Are you to end me for knowing what you shared? Am I to vanish like the others you dragged in alleyways?!"

"I don't kill willy nilly. I'm not Nathaniel, nor am I a Samuel. Speaking of ugly manure-man, I didn't 'save' him... I was getting what I needed." She pulls out some personal belongings of Samuel's. "Plus, I need to free a certain fire bird before I can kill him. Which I can do now because I know about the 'furnace' at the asylum. I KNOW every little dark secret you pathetic s.o.bs hid... and I'm bringing light to them all even if it KILLS ME!"

Kaitlyn calmly dusts off her coat, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to hit on my coworkers with vulgar jokes, cuddle my wife, and then save this pathetic circus of a kingdom from itself. Good day~"

#purewhitewolf #xxrppastxx #kaitlyn

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quirofiliac · 6 months

Text

ongewenst asked: " daddy doesn't like you much. " it's proclaimed rather boldly by the little girl, who seemed utterly unfazed by the idea of her father loathing the man before her; lavender hues stayed fixated on kira's expression as hanamaru crossed her arms over her chest. body language entirely void of resentment or fear. " he's told me many things about you! "

@ongewenst: hanamaru ft. @kokoronohiroi as honorable mention／ unprompted ／ always accepting.

Her statement (and why was she so loud? he thought her parents were better than that-- well... at least one of them should be.) was immediately acknowledged, granted full attention with Kira turning towards her. An eyebrow comes up in a curious, little raise with his gaze starting at the tips of her shoes -- it's a good thing she has shoes, at least, considering her roots, right? -- and starting a slow, gradual ascent. Lips pulled into a tight, straight line that prevented his expression from changing any further.

He could feel a sneer fighting its way to the surface, and it was quickly obscured with a casual raise of hand. Folding it henceforth into a fist, Kira presses its knuckles into the twitchiest spot and allows for a slack smile to work itself across his lips instead. Marginal effort was spared, additionally, to soften his eyes. Wouldn't want to "scare" her, now would he?

"Is that so?" he asked in response, returning the child's enthusiasm with... something that didn't quite match. Tone, overall, was kept light. There's too much room for error, he's already starting to find and that (he wonders how upset they'd be if he killed her right here, right now. a child's casket shouldn't cost that much, surely... surely not.) was more than enough to cause every single one of his nerves to tense up. "I wonder..."

Head tilted, placing more of its weight onto his knuckle. Leaning forward in order to prop his arm (he has to look casual. he doesn't like how she's standing. it screams "boy".) up on kitchen's countertop. A light hum escapes from betwixt sealed lips, eyes looking "at" her (how much would a little girl, aged... maybe... six at the youngest, eight the oldest bleed if he punched her square on the nose?) only to blink away before proper contact could be established.

The hum grows louder, but he doesn't seem to notice despite serving as its host. Eyes shifted elsewhere, setting their sights toward the ceiling (did that one light just blink? he thinks it did, only once. just once, though. it's fast... quick. a blink -- heheh -- and miss it sort of deal. he keeps it in mind.) as he shifted in place. A small amount of weight's put onto his right side than his left, and he seems all the more comfortable because of it.

"I... honestly can't seem to recall why he doesn't like me much," came the confession, shoulders sagging as all of that thought, all of that reminiscing bore zero fruit. A frown's attempted but can't quite reach its head. Kira's fast in abandoning that idea, leaving it behind in a metaphorical mad dash to his next option. "Perhaps, ah, it was something I said...?"

A thoughtful, near remorseful shift happens as the blond pretends to continued to wrack his brain. Gaze pounced from one thing to another, managing to swipe another glimpse (does she think standing like makes her look tough? it just makes her look like a stupid boy. kira hates little boys.) her way before settling on the nearby refrigerator. He swallows. It tastes like nothing with a hint of bile. It goes down like a rock, too.

Other arm rose up to reveal itself, laying itself flat and palm up on countertop shortly after. He's since stopped humming, repositioning his occupied hand to let his chin perch within its palm, instead. Another swallow. Its taste nor texture doesn't change and, in fact, seems to have gotten worse.

He's talking too much. How embarrassing. Suddenly, he's just realized that.

"..."

He glances down towards his empty hand, watching its fingers including the thumb flex inwards only to unfurl moments later. There's a sudden crick in his jaw. Was he always clenching it this tight? He reminds himself to unclench and he does. But the pressure remains. Why was that? It had to be psychological.

That's not something he wants to think about right now.

A tiny bead of sweat starts to form on the back of his neck, beginning at the nape. There's a slight arch in his back-- his actual spine, now, and it's not a pleasant feeling. An attempt's made to offset it, done with Kira proceeding to lean a little bit more, sticking out his rear with one leg coming to cross over its neighbor's ankle with ease. He licked his lips after, swiping over them with a tongue that felt equally as dry.

Should he end the conversation now? Maybe he should talk to Giorno-- demand to know why this thing girl seemingly knows "a lot" about him. That would be what the grown-up would do in such a predicament, after all. Adults talked things out... they didn't gossip (okuyasu would look better with no teeth, no lips... maybe he can start a trend. did he really need his tongue, too, come to think of it?) to their children like some braindead troglodyte. Of course not!

His teeth start to grind, and he could hear each and every scrape associated with each movement. It's something that he wanted to stop, feeling as if he'd scream (fuck. ... FUCK!! ... FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK! ... FUCK!!! FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK--) on the next tenor.

But what does he keep doing? That's right: he keeps grinding his fucking teeth.

When was his next appointment with the orthodontist? March 20ᵗʰ. When was his yearly checkup? May 14ᵗʰ. When was his next session with the optometrist? February 10ᵗʰ. Should he schedule an appointment with a gastroenterologist soon-- when's the latest he could see them, if so? April 23ʳᵈ. Was he due for anything else? His schedule's packed as is... but he thinks he can make do if push comes to shove.

"Hmm."

No, he wasn't overthinking this. There's no way.

Another swallow's forced and, this time, Kira heard it. It's an audible gulp, and it's echoing over and over in his head. It rings nonstop in his ears. On the bright side, that was more than enough to drown out the squealing of his teeth.

Adjusting and turning his head to face little Hanamaru, the man canted his head slightly. Expression gradually softened in tandem with the gentle swaying of loose strands of hair. His eyes squinted upon catching his resting hand, fingers twitching but no longer curling (could he fit his hand around her head and squeeze it like a melon? what would pop out first: her brain or her eyes?) in and out.

"Ah, actually... Hanamaru, is it? Your parents picked such a lovely name, by the way, but... um, if I may?"

Surely, Hanamaru (and giorno, he guesses.) could live with only one parent in the house? Not like they were dependent on only Okuyasu to get things done, wasn't that right? The answer was obvious. Kira understood immediately.

"Could you, perhaps..." he smiled, and his eyes flash as a sign of life, "...tell me what he said about me? I think it'd... "jog" my memory, so to speak."

(that's it. i'll just kill him. easy.)

"I'd appreciate the help."

#ongewenst #ongewenst: nijimura hanamaru #＊ 💥 持味：in character.#＊ 💥 返事：answered.#me smiling at you because it took me way too long to answer this:#* jumpscares henrietta by tagging her too * hehe!

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radkindoffeminist · 2 years

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read your bio and came to bully you anyways lol ❤️ imagine being so narrow-minded and brainless that you hate the idea of people being themselves and living their lives and feeling oh so threatened by the existence of women who are different from you.

what defines a woman to you? a vagina? well, what about your "anti-porn" stance? why would you reduce a woman to her genitals? isn't that what you TERFs hate, when women are reduced to being walking vaginas, as men often do? "a woman is someone who can carry a child" what about women who are infertile? women with PCOS, ovarian cancer, etc etc. would you shun females with body/facial hair due to a natural excess of testosterone? how then could you tell a trans woman from a cis woman with excess testosterone? and don't be like "well obviously i could pick out a man in a dress from a woman" because a lot of trans women are not obvious! blaire white? jamie clayton? laverne cox? i don't know about you, but i didn't know they were trans until i was explicitly told that they were.

we can talk biology all you want, but the fact is: every single individual is unique. even identical twins. and not everyone has the same amount of estrogen and testosterone (of which everyone has both of! that's right! even as a biological female, you have *some* testosterone! that's just how it works! and it's there to maintain your physical health. and as we've established, some women have Too Much testosterone, and as trans women prove, sometimes that excess of testosterone in women results in a penis forming while they're in their parent's womb)

go read a fucking book you blockheaded plebeian. biology is way more complicated than what you learned in 3rd grade.

p.s. i encourage you to google any of this shit <3 educate yourself. don't be an idiot.

Ooof, a lot post of stupidity. Be glad that you found me on a high energy day.

imagine being so narrow-minded and brainless that you hate the idea of people being themselves and living their lives

What is it with the ‘these people are just trying to live their lives’ rhetoric? Realising that this whole idea was fucking bullshit was one of the things which made me peak! How can you say that they’re just trying to live their lives when they are removing safe spaces for women by shifting to self-ID as standard and attacking rape crisis shelters for not complying with this ideal; continually attacking and insult people (but lesbians especially) for refusing to change their sexuality to include trans people and forcing conversion therapy ideas onto them so that they’re ‘inclusive’ (receipts at @tra-receipts); and forcing literally everyone to change their language about issues related to the female body to be ‘more inclusive’ despite the fact that women hate this language because it is degrading and misogynistic and despite it being ‘for inclusivity’ it is almost exclusively used to label women and not men (receipts at @misogynistic-inclusive-language)? Please explain exactly how people just want to live their lives in peace when all of shit is going down and affecting so many other people constantly.

feeling oh so threatened by the existence of women who are different from you.

No part of me is threatened by the existence of women who are different from me. I am, however, threatened by the thought of males being allowed in safe spaces which were designed to protect me for men/male violence just because these men say they’re women. And I’m offended by the idea that some males put on some makeup and dresses and think that makes them women and that they are actually worse off because of that, despite never being socialised the same as me and never having the fear of sexual violence/harassment hanging over them and so many other things which are inherent to womanhood

what defines a woman to you? a vagina?

What defines a woman? Adult human female which means that yes, women have a vagina. What do you define as being a woman, anon? A feeling maybe? Or the debunked brain sex theory? Or maybe you're not even that smart and think it's just being a woman. In any case, woman means adult human female and there is no other coherent definition which has ever been provided (receipts @woman-defined), though you're welcome to prove me wrong. So maybe you should tell me why we need to change all our language and laws and safe spaces to accommodate people based on them ‘feeling’ like an incoherent concept.

well, what about your "anti-porn" stance?

What about my anti-porn stance? How dare I hate an industry which is notoriously abusive towards women and which is linked with misogyny and sexual violence in the men who consume it? Idk, seems like a reasonable stance to take 🤷🏼‍♀️ (Sources and further reading @antiporn-activist. One of the best users for this topic.)

why would you reduce a woman to her genitals? isn't that what you TERFs hate, when women are reduced to being walking vaginas, as men often do?

You seem to both understand and not understand what it means to be reduced to something so let me explain since you obviously need the clarity. Being ‘reduced to’ something means that you are seen as only being that thing or only useful because of that thing. Radfems hate being reduced to their organs and reproductive capabilities so by that we mean we hate it when men say that our only purpose in life should be to reproduce and that that’s the only thing we’re good for.

Saying that a woman has a vagina isn’t reducing her to her vagina. I am saying that it is a part of her body which she has. Much like if I said that lesbians only date women. I am not saying that lesbians are sex-obsessed weirdos who ogle every woman they see because they can’t control themselves and reducing them to their sexuality but rather that stating a characteristic which is inherent to that group. Hope you are now able to understand the difference and why radfems don’t reduce women to their vaginas!

(Side note: Do you not think it’s a little ironic to say that radfems are the one ‘reducing women’ to their vagina and organs when it’s the TRAs who believe that we should be using terms like ‘vagina haver’ and ‘uterus owner’ to describe women?)

"a woman is someone who can carry a child" what about women who are infertile? women with PCOS, ovarian cancer, etc etc.

Mate, I literally have PCOS so don’t fuck with me about this. Not a single radfem in the four years that I have been on this site has ever told me that I am less of a woman or not a woman because I have a PCOS. Not one. Ever. Many TRAs have however implied that I’m not fully female due to a fucking medical condition but I digress. Radfems do not exclude women with medical conditions and radfems have literally never defined being a woman as being able to carry a child. I don’t even know why you bothered putting quotation marks around something no radfem has ever said. As I said before, a woman is an adult human female. PCOS and ovarian cancer sufferers/survivors are still fucking female.

would you shun females with body/facial hair due to a natural excess of testosterone?

Nope.

how then could you tell a trans woman from a cis woman with excess testosterone? and don't be like "well obviously i could pick out a man in a dress from a woman" because a lot of trans women are not obvious! blaire white? jamie clayton? laverne cox? i don't know about you, but i didn't know they were trans until i was explicitly told that they were.

Because the vast majority of trans people are clockable due to having distinctly male features. Are there some trans women who I cannot clock? Yeah, I’ll admit that. After years on hormones, multiple surgeries, masses of makeup, and voice coaching there are a handful of trans women who I would not be able to clock and haven’t been able to clock. But you’re a fucking idiot if you think the vast, vast majority of trans women are completely unclockable because most don’t have access to the money to do all the things which would allow them to appear like a regular woman. Hell, some don’t even want to. A very small handful of very rich trans people being able to pass well doesn’t discount that the average trans woman cannot pass.

(But seriously? You couldn’t clock Laverne Cox? Are you dumb?)

go read a fucking book you blockheaded plebeian.

Nah, don’t like reading books that much

biology is way more complicated than what you learned in 3rd grade.

I fucking love this argument. Actually got an ask about this the other day, funnily enough. I thought that sex and gender were supposed to be two completely separate, though slightly linked, concepts? So while you spew complete bullshit about disorders of sexual development, how about you tell what the existence of intersex conditions has to do with gender? Because seriously, I don’t understand. ‘Hey a very small percentage of people are born with XY chromosomes but appear externally to be female due to this rare medical condition which means that this fully grown man with a penis can call himself a woman’? Seriously, I do not understand how because ‘biology is way more complicated than what [I] learned in 3rd grade’ that means that males can call themselves women and we need to cope. Please explain the logic here.

p.s. i encourage you to google any of this shit <3 educate yourself. don't be an idiot.

I have spent a lot of time educating myself of trans people and trans issues but guess what? Still gender critical and still have not seen a coherent definition of what a woman which includes trans women! Also really don’t appreciate having people talk down to me and telling me that my view can only come from a place of ignorance just because they refuse to educate themselves on what gender critical views actually are so will go along with any lies that they’re told. Your message to me was not trying to educate me and you didn’t show the most basic understanding of radfem view points yet you’re going to sit there and tell me that I’m the uneducated one? Damn, that’s fucking bold of you. How about you start by reading the blogs that I have tagged above, coherently defining what a woman is, and then educating yourself on the most basic radfem views?

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sjhanny2000 · 2 years

Text

Hidden Within the Arrangement (1/?)

Summary: The time of war between the Uchiha and Senju is coming to an end. At least, that is what the hopes are as the two opposing groups come together to create not only a treaty of peace but a marriage arrangement between a clan heir from the Uchiha and one from the Senju. With Hashirama already married to Princess Mito of the Uzumaki and their younger brothers' dead, the weight of fulfilling the demanded marriage arrangement falls upon Tobirama’s already straining shoulders. The thing is, his very existence may be the reason why this arrangement falls apart.

A/N: It's been a hot minute since I published Madatobi but I've been holding onto this for awhile. This is technically the prequel to Secrets Worth sharing but can be read as a standalone AU as well. For my Demon Slayer readers, F&ST Finale is being worked on so don't worry!

Warning(s): Intersexed character, arranged marriage, hurt/comfort, angst, canonical/non-canonical death(s), referenced/discussed abuse, child abuse/neglect, self-deprecation, self-hatred, body dysmorphia, self-sacrificial Tobirama, bad sibling Hashirama

~~~~

If individuals were to describe themselves using a single word, Tobirama would most definitely utilize the word enigma. It was what his grandmother had used countless times in reference to him over the years their lives coincided, her stern eyes of toiled earth forever etched into his memory. It was what other clansmen referred to him as they maliciously gossiped about the “White Demon” amongst their midst, his own people spitting his name out with poisonous venom. Even his own brother had called him an enigma many times, often in moments of frustration or disappointment as they stood on opposite sides of understanding and emotions, Hashirama always warm and expressive while Tobirama stood cold and reserved. He was not like his clansmen, nor like that of his ancestors, forever a sore thumb amongst the Senju and while he never allowed it to show on his exterior, Tobirama could not deny how much it hurt on the inside no matter the effort he put into ignoring it.

The treatment he faced had begun at a young age, only mere moments after Tobirama had taken his first strained breath. No one could have expected the child that slid out of his mother’s womb that fateful winter day, his head full of shocking white hair and vermillion eyes causing silent panic amongst the midwives present in the room. His grandmother, wise with age and experience, had only seen a child such as him once in her lifetime of forty-two years and had no hesitation in stating that the said child had died within hours of delivery, having been sickly and frail. Yet, even his grandmother had been left reeling as the delivery room’s occupants took in the sight that truly left all flabbergasted. Much to their confusion, Tobirama possessed not only male genitalia but also that of a female, a vagina clearly present behind his small but still ever present penis. Never had any of them seen this phenomena before, though rumors of this happening every so often echoed across the landscape within the Land of Fire. Most born with this condition did not live long, many seeing such a deformation as an evil that was swiftly disposed of upon delivery. Tobirama had been born with not only one but two deformities and the cards of humanity stacked against him only moments into his existence, particularly when it came to his father. Butsuma Senju did not allow any weakness to be present within the family, his words stern and his hands like steel, and the very moment his dark eyes fell upon Tobirama’s sleeping form, his fate was sealed.

The Senju clan head had taken one disgusted look at his youngest son and chose he would rather his son be dead than show weakness. It had taken both the convincing words of his grandmother and the pleading screams of his mother to stop the man amidst his attempted drowning of Tobirama, his infant self having been no more than ten minutes old. They argued that Tobirama would prove his worth, that he would be just as strong as any other shinobi, to simply give him the chance he deserved by being his son. With bitter reluctance, Butsuma had pulled Tobirama from the bath and unceremoniously dropped him into his wailing mother’s arms, sneering that their claims of the “cursed child being of worth was a waste of breath until proven.”

The truth of Tobirama’s deformities became a secret that only those within the room knew, Butsuma having promised a swift death to anyone who spoke of what occurred that day. Not even his own brother had come to know about his condition until the mokuton user found him lying amongst a pool of his blood when they were fifteen and seventeen respectively, his first bleed having set in some time during the night. Tobirama, however, had merely been two years old when he discovered that he was unlike others amongst his clan.

Mother had been bathing both him and his brother when Tobirama had come to notice something peculiar between him and his brother anatomically. Much to his young confusion, the difference in what he came to know as genitalia was not striking but it was indeed noticeable; Hashirama possessed a penis as all males do but Tobirama had both male and female sets of genitalia. He had presented his mother with his confused query later as she tucked him in and Tobirama was met with a trembling lip and teary pools of obsidian, ones that he still missed terribly following her later passing. She had been hesitant in answering, nearly begging Tobirama to leave the matter be but his mind had fixated on the topic and while he was typically an obedient child, he was also stubborn. Eventually, she conceded to his demands, his mother murmuring nervously that the matter would be discussed at a more appropriate time when Hashirama, who was slumbering nearby, was not present. Little more than an hour later, his mother was cradling Tobirama to her chest as she quietly tainted his childhood innocence.

“I am so sorry, Tobirama. I failed you.”

At first, Tobirama did not understand why she had apologized to him, for the formation of his body had been out of her control. Mother had been perfect in Tobirama’s eyes, being kind yet firm when needing to be, especially with Hashirama’s wobbly emotional state. She was the one who intercepted incoming blows, the person who gave him as many books as she could obtain so Tobirama could amass his knowledge, even at such a young age. Their mother was the one who encouraged Hashirama to follow his heart even though their father blatantly discouraged it, the clan head wanting an emotionless and brutal heir for a son instead of one of compassion and thought. He had witnessed the punishments mother received for her motherly love, ones that left her bloody and in pain, sometimes her clothes having been ripped off and legs caked in a mixture of unholy fluids. Hashirama cried about it often, sometimes even attempting to interfere because he knew what their father was doing was improper, but Tobirama always took his elder brother’s hand with a shake of his head and held him as he cried. Mother, even when so beaten and broken down by years of emotional and physical abuse, was there for them even if she was unable to get out of bed, her sadness too deep and wounds too painful.

She had still been perfect when she had informed Tobirama that he had not only been born with a condition known as albinism but the Kami cursed him with both male and female genitalia. Her sobs were deafening to his young self as he tried to understand why having such a condition was considered wrong, why it had brought the young woman to tears just thinking about it. It however explained the brutal treatment Tobirama had received from his father, looks of disdain with rough hands, spirit shattered and bones broken, only acknowledging him on the training field and nothing more. The man did not even address him by his name, choosing to use “Boy” or “You” in place of it, something he continued to do even on his deathbed. Tobirama himself had wanted to cry, so confused as to everything that was going on whilst trying to comprehend the meaning behind her words with his small processing capacity at the time. Yet, in that moment, all he had been capable of doing was giving his mother the love she so rarely received.

The truth of his condition, of the curse the Kami had bestowed upon him at birth, was something that was never to be discussed with anyone beside his mother.

“Tobirama, you must promise me you will never speak of this with anyone aside from I or your grandmother! Do you understand me?!”

Grandmother, the one to assist mother in his delivery and the first to take witness of how the Kami came to punish Senju Butsuma for his misdeeds, at least according to her understanding.

“Your father has taken much and given little, boy. Your own mother is proof of Butsuma’s greed, seeing as how he stole her away from her own family to satisfy his own urges. You, however, are the undeniable proof that no one can escape the judgment of the Kami, not even the great Senju Butsuma. Not anyone aside from myself, you, and your mother will ever come to know this fact, hmm?”

So, from the tender age of two years old, Tobirama never told a soul. At least, not until Hashirama came to wake him for breakfast early one morning and found the lower half of Tobirama’s futon and blankets covered in blood, his pale thighs caked in blood much like their mother’s had been all those years. Tobirama’s desperate pleas for the mokuton user to wait had fallen on deaf ears, Hashirama swiftly rushing off to gather not only Touka but his newly christened wife Mito as well, both women demanding to know what was going on as they were ushered in. All three had been left bewildered at the sight before them and even more so as Tobirama gave his explanation but Mito and Touka, much to his quiet relief, had come to his aid immediately, gifting him with necessary products and means in alleviating the pain he was feeling within his lower belly.

While Tobirama had the outward signs of both genitalia, it had never been confirmed whether or not he indeed had a womb as well until that very morning, shaken and unsure of how to adjust to such a development. Hashirama had promptly been banished from his room upon becoming upset that Tobirama would keep such a secret from him, “-are we not brothers, Tobirama?!” , and it had left himself ashamed and insecure within his own skin for how was he supposed to tell his anija if he was to never know about it? He was the hideous and deformed son of Butsuma Senju, the Ghost of the Senju, the White Demon, the Red Eyed Senju, a freak of nature. Albinism could be explained for it happened every blue moon over the centuries, but being intersexed? Not as much. Tobirama was already made out to be an outcast with his looks and abilities alone, what with his suiton nature rather than earth and his peculiar outward bodily features, ones that had played a role in developing the names others within the clan and beyond viewed him as. News of his condition would only place a target on his back and more of a pariah amongst his people.

Again, the information pertaining to his person was kept quiet, Tobirama swearing his blabbering brother to ultimate secrecy with blatant blackmail that had the emotional young man squirming in his seat. Tobirama never feared Touka nor Mito of spreading word of his condition, rather the two women were firm in covertly supporting him through his monthly bleeds, offering items of relief and assistance when needed. He quickly became accustomed to retreating to his lab during the third week of the month for approximately four days, usually cocooned within the depths of his blankets with a heated water canteen and means of nutrition waiting at his bedside whenever required. In turn, Tobirama did the same when Mito and Touka experienced their own bleeds, creating a unique understanding and solidarity between them that his elder brother was quite envious of if his repetitious pouting said anything.

With time, he grew accustomed to this new biological process, though it was often frustrating when it arrived early whilst on missions or even worse, on the battlefield. Luckily, he was able to cover any early starts with the draw of his blade, claiming the crimson fluid coloring the fabric of his pants had come from slaughtered enemies. No one had an inkling that Tobirama was such a deformed individual, a description his anija, cousin, and sister in law vehemently argued against if he spoke it aloud, but they always grew stubbornly quiet when he blatantly pointed out that he was indeed abnormal.

Such abnormalities sealed his fate when it came to matters such as marriage. He knew early on that he would never be marriage material, with so many of his own clan repulsed by his albino features and others outside the Senju believing him to be a demon manifested. It was a persona their father had been eager to fuel from the moment he ordered Tobirama to slit the throat of an Uchiha male at the mere age of four years old, a twisted grin marring the man’s wrinkled face at seeing the crimson spill onto Tobirama’s snow white skin.

These were just a few of the plethora of reasons why he had been left speechless when during the peace negotiations between the Senju and Uchiha, the Uchiha demanded not only an arranged marriage between clan heirs, but Tobirama specifically. Tobirama had gazed at Madara Uchiha with a poorly hidden slack jaw as those damning words spilled from his lips, vermillion irises searching obsidian ones with concerned confusion. The other Senjus’ had been shocked as well, Hashirama promptly thrown off as he asked the damning question of the day that seemed to be on the majority of his clansmen’s minds.

“You want WHAT?!”

Tobirama painfully understood anija’s surprise, for he too had believed that Tobirama was incapable of feeling, having grown so used to his younger brother’s cold and calculating exterior that he had forgotten that his otouto felt just as he did, only his emotions were hidden behind a carefully crafted mask. Hashirama had been the one to call him a cruel demon as they trekked home from that cursed riverfront, rage possessing his typically joyful features as his friendship with Uchiha Madara lay in ruins at his feet. Their sibling relationship had never fully recovered from that moment, with Hashirama too stubborn to forgive him for losing his friendship with Madara and Tobirama believing him to be right in doing so. He had never been a child of normalcy, his genetics and upbringing had ensured that was the case, and Hashirama was the clan heir, the blessed mokuton user with a heart of gold that had an enticing personality that drew everyone to him. Tobirama was the spare, the bloodsoaked weapon Butsuma had carefully crafted and wielded without mercy, the cursed suiton user with a heart of ice and unwelcoming personality that scared everyone away. They were perfect opposites, as their mother always kindly pointed out, Hashirama the yin to his yang, the sun to his moon, and such differences had seemingly damaged their relationship beyond repair. Both Mito and Touka had done their damndest to assist the two brothers in mending their broken bonds but Hashirama did everything in his power to skirt around their deepest, most unhealed issue, that being one individual in particular.

Uchiha Madara.

This wound only seemed to grow more aggravated when Tobirama, much to his own surprise, accepted the proposal as Hashirama and Touka bickered over the matter, the two remaining members of his blood gazing at him with shock. Hashirama did his best to object on the premise, carelessly urging that Tobirama hated the Uchiha as Touka argued for Tobirama to think sensibly, that such a demand was most likely a trick to kill him once alone with Madara. Tobirama had never broken eye contact with the Uchiha clan heir, memorizing every speck of his cool and collected features in search of some sign of maliciousness or contempt, yet he found nothing. Instead, he found himself taking in a man who possessed a stern resolve, willing to marry himself away to a man of evil that he wholeheartedly despised if it meant there was to be no more bloodshed between their families, the same objective Tobirama held close to his icy heart. So, without a shred of hesitation, Tobirama had agreed, much to Hashirama and Touka’s pure horror, something he paid no mind to, gaze never leaving Madara’s as he watched pained regret spill into pools of obsidian.

Peace was everything his anija had ever wanted since those fateful days at the Naka River. If he had to sacrifice himself for not only Hashirama but for the overall greater good, so that some justification for Kawarama and Itama’s premature deaths could be made, he swore from a young age he would do it.

He wasn’t a true human after all, right?

~~~

A/N: Any comments, reblogs, etc. are always appreciated! Let me know if I should continue this as a series or leave it as a one-shot.

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atlasscrumpit · 2 years

Text

My personal Experience with PTSD and DID

(Trigger warning, ptsd, trauma)

I guess I just wanted to share a little bit of my own experience especially with DID and PTSD.

I think like a lot of others I’ve kind of gotten used to keeping all of this quiet, people teach you that sharing your pain means you’re weak. So I never share.

But I think I should start sharing more, because then maybe the more I share others will want to share as well or feel more confident.

I’m not really sure where to begin with all of this.

Well, i suppose I’ve always struggled, but I didn’t face it or realise it until I was 15.

All of the things before it were kind of just put down to ‘she’s different.’

Seizures or ptsd episodes were just put down to ‘she’s wanting attention.’

The doctors didn’t really know what to do with me, I was an ‘interesting’ case.

So, instead of helping me further they put a 15 year old girl onto 100mg of sedatives every night until I became so numb that I just stopped talking. I suppose then I wouldn’t bother anyone.

Because of the high dosage I don’t remember much of those times.

They put me on so many different pills and treatments that me and the entire system just switched off.

I remember small details, having outbursts and being on even more medication.

Or the side effects, I mean at one point I was on a treatment that made me lactate. Yes, a 17 year old girl with a body ready for a child. The medication literally made my body prepare for a child.

And if that isn’t fucked up idk what is.

Anyway that’s just some background pieces. When I began getting actual help the professionals were confused to say the least.

From every point of view I had a normal childhood, of course I had the normal trials and everything. But the doctors were confused because I had complex ptsd with ‘no trauma.’

My level of ptsd was the same as someone who had gone through years of sex trafficking. They’re not the only ones confused either because I honestly don’t know what happened. A lot of my childhood was wiped from my mind, but I don’t understand how so many people can say i had a happy childhood yet I’m left like this. Having flashbacks of horrible things, screaming in my sleep at night and having panic attacks in the grocery store.

It’s been hard, it’s been really fucking hard.

But I don’t get to say that, I don’t get to cry, I don’t get to scream.

I have seizures, I have nerve pain, I get terrible headaches, I have times where I forget everything even my own name or my own family, I get nightmares nearly every night, i get really strong deja Vu every single day, of course it’s a struggle having DID as well, the constant switching and voices can be overwhelming.

I just want to scream, i want to show people how much I’m hurting, but I can’t.

Because all of this is ‘in my head’ people don’t believe it hurts.

Life has been hard, it has been so hard and difficult but I’m not allowed to say that because other people have it worse and at least I have a home and food.

That’s a bullshit argument, having a home or food doesn’t stop the pain, it doesn’t stop the crying and the screaming.

Every job I’ve had has been terrible, the coworkers treat me terribly because I’m different. The job I have now is a little better but people still don’t understand any of it. I don’t expect them to.

There’s been times where I lose the ability to speak, I don’t know if many of you have been through that but god it’s scary and no one cares. My family just said ‘it’s just because of your anxiety’ even if it was that doesn’t make it any less terrifying.

I’m just tired of suffering, I’m tired of having to be silent.

I’ve been through so much and it isn’t fair, none of this is fucking fair.

And I still have no idea why I’m like this or what happened.

I just want a break, and i want some peace. But life isn’t fair, at least not for me.

Why does everyone get to have a life, why was I born and instantly my life was a trial? I don’t understand it one bit, apparently I did something absolutely awful and all of this is punishment.

Obviously there’s a lot more than just that stuff but that’s all I can do for tonight cause I’m already close to passing out from that.

And if you made it to the end holy shit.

#ptsd #did #ramble #rant #dissociative identity disorder #mental health #depression #axiety

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sinful-huntress · 10 months

Note

Klaus x mischievous demon that was at first trying to trick him into selling his soul. Now just screws with him because they like to see his reactions.

Uh oh, looks like Zapp found a brand new best fiend ;P Trickster

"Ooooh Klausie-kins~!"

You bounced through the house like a child, unaware that the dark essence you felt was getting heavier as you neared the bedroom. Just stopping to knock, be a little polite to the man you'd been teasing for months now; you pushed the door open without a second thought.

"You in here?"

The typically calm, well-behaved man had the faintest hint of a snarl between his fangs as he turned to you. It didn't register to you that anything was really off, it was a bit exciting to see him like this.

It got your hopes up that he would finally give into your influence.

Until he pinned you against the wall.

"Why did you come in here?" His voice was dangerously low, "Haven't you done enough?"

"Maybe..." You smirked, "But this is new. So what's going on with you Klausie-kins?"

His eyes narrowed, "What do you mean? Isn't this the reason you're here? To coax me into this... this monstrous form?"

"Monstrous form?" Tilting your head, "You look the same to me."

Klaus didn't understand what you were playing at. Turning away violently with a hard grunt, a hundred thoughts running through his head.

Did demons even have blood? What kind of effect would it have on him? Would it quell his curse or make it run rampant? Was that even what he wanted? Or did he want... something else?

The whole time you'd been around him... Klaus felt as if he was starting to feel connected to you. Not in a soulful way, but in a romantic one.

But this felt lustful...

A dark snarl eased out of Klaus's throat as you started putting two and two together. He was already under a demon curse, just one that didn't leave marks or fully damned his soul. Unless he allowed it to...

It made for an... interesting twist.

"Klausie-kins, what is it that you want?" Walking around him, following him as he kept trying to avoid you, "Blood? Flesh? I could give you both..."

"NO." His eyes trained on you, that knowing smirk across your face, "I want nothing, especially not from you."

Letting your head drop, exposing your neck at him, "Really? Absolutely nothing? Even if it came with... no strings attached?"

Klaus had to tear his eyes away. He couldn't let himself get wrapped up in this. You were trying to get him to make a deal with you, he knew it. This was not the time to give into temptation.

Even if he could easily overpower you and just take what he wanted...

But you were persistent, tailing his line of sight. Making yourself seem as attractive as possible. There were a few different possibilities of what would happen, but none of them would hurt you. Klaus getting frustrated was entertaining, but you wanted to see him break... just once.

"Stop." Klaus commanded, "This is going nowhere. I do not want anything from you."

"Really?" Leaning up into his space, snaking your arms around his shoulders, "You can't think of a single thing you might want from me? Knowing that you won't have to worry about consequences?"

It felt like he was quaking to his soul. You were most definitely coming onto him at the moment. Were you really offering yourself up to him in that way? All the effort he made to help you, all the time spent with you. Even if that mostly consisted of your attempts to claim his soul in some way.

But you weren't easing up. Pushing the boundaries as his resolve crumbled, Klaus didn't know what he wanted anymore. The dark voice in the back of his head kept urging him closer in the moment, but was this really what he wanted?

This would be a moment he couldn't come back from. If he did anything, this would be the point of no return.

The grandfather clock in the corner ticked loudly, impossibly loudly as Klaus's mind churned. Your hands tangled in his hair as he fought the craving your body ignited in him.

It was getting to be too much, Klaus wouldn't be able to ignore this much longer. Yet he couldn't bring himself to push you away. Touching you voluntarily would take him over the edge... he knew it.

"You know what you want." You breathed against his neck, "You just have to take a little... initiative."

He shuddered, hard. It was a matter of time before he-

You were violently shoved onto the bed. This was very different from how he usually acted... and it was exhilarating.

Klaus couldn't think straight; partly because of his curse, partly because he did want some kind of relationship with you. It was far from the correct way to go about a proper relationship, though you weren't exactly a normal human being. Demons would surely have different means of healthy relationships... right?

It took every fiber of Klaus's being to not rip your clothes off. One large hand pinned your arms down, emerald eyes glaring in a bizarre way. Moving at all was difficult, especially with Klaus's pants on the floor. That bulge. You were in for a rough night, uncertain if you could even survive it. It wasn't often that a human could do anything like this.

Shoving a finger deep inside you, Klaus felt conflicted about the noise you made... the way your body arched. But the way your tail curled up behind him, nudging him forward, told him everything. Heavy panting, growling moans eased out of your throat as Klaus leaned over you.

His teeth pressed hard into your skin, a gentle bite but a bite nonetheless. Sucking at the spot roughly, vibrating you into numbness with deep growls. With little regard for how you truly felt, acting purely on impulse; Klaus pushed a second finger in, pumping his hand roughly against you.

Barely able to think about anything except Klaus and his actions, you could feel yourself drooling. Trying to focus enough to breathe and not black out as your mind went numb. You were wriggling to the painful pleasure, not registering that Klaus had replaced his hand with his fully erect cock.

It took the bed springs creaking under you, both his hands holding your legs instead of pinning you down. Bent over you and pounding away, adjusting ever so slightly as he needed to. Leaving teeth marks across your neck and chest, thick bruises along your legs from his grip.

You didn't know he had this kind of strength and stamina, let alone this kind of drive. For the first time in your attempts to corrupt a soul, even if this wasn't part of your plan or even going to work, you felt like blacking out. The pressure between your legs grew and grew, cumming all over Klaus, and getting a little on yourself.

Klaus only stopped when he realized he had quite literally fucked you unconscious. Guilt mounted higher and higher as he checked your vitals, unsure if he should attempt to move you or leave you sprawled out across his bed. He had never gone that far before, every damning mark across your body made him feel worse and worse.

Shame over how he let that happen, how he'd given in. And not a clue if you were truly okay with it, unable to get your feedback at all. He had no way to take any of that back, no way to apologize until you woke up.

But what was he to do until then?

#bbb #kekkai sensen #kkss #blood blockade battlefront #sinful heathens #ask #anon ask #klaus von reinherz

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systemadministratorclu · 1 year

Note

[five word prompt for Sonic]

— “god, you’re just the cutest.”

Ed was gone to work for the day, and Clu was a little tired from some hard work on the Grid. So he'd left his trio of advisors (Tron, Hal, and Tesler) in charge while he went to the Userworld to spend a day relaxing with his adopted baby brother. He arrived in Ed's home office, still dressed in his robes. He had clothes he kept by the laser that he could change into, but he saw no need since he didn't plan on leaving the house. It was raining outside anyway, and it was one of those dreary all-day rains. Still, he smiled as something blue streaked through the hallway and his arms were suddenly full of little blue alien hedgehog hugging him with a big smile.

"Hi Clu!" Sonic was always excited to see his big brother. Of course he preferred going to Clu's place, since he could run around there (Clu had even built him a single, double, and triple loop-de-loop! Best brother ever!). But even if he couldn't run, he still enjoyed any time he got to spend with his brother. Like him, Clu also had to stay hidden, since Clu was also technically an alien. So they were confined to Ed's house.

"There's my little Tron Troubler!" Sonic giggled at one of his nicknames.

"Hey, I'm also a Tes Teaser and Hal Hugger."

"You forgot one."

"No I didn't." Sonic hugged him again, rubbing his soft, fuzzy little face against Clu.

"I'd never forget to be a Clu Cuddler." Clu shook his head with a smile.

"Grid, you're just the cutest." Sonic laughed again as Clu carried him out to the living room. All the curtains were closed, as they usually were so Sonic didn't have to worry about someone seeing him through a window while Ed was gone. Clu dropped onto the couch and flicked on the TV to try and find something to watch. Ed had added a program to the smartTV so it gave more information about shows and movies that would help Clu to know what was okay to watch with a small child. This allowed him to say yes when he flipped to a nature channel where a show about hedgehogs was starting and Sonic squealed in excitement, asking to watch it. He was disappointed that Earth hedgehogs weren't like him, but he still found the show quite interesting, sometimes imitating the hedgehogs on the screen when they rolled into a ball or puffed out their quills.

When that was over, they quickly switched channels, as neither of them was interested in the show about insects that followed. So they flipped around watching various movies and cartoons. It was nowhere near Fathers Day, yet every show seemed to be playing a rerun of its Fathers Day episode. Every character was giving some kind of gift that said 'World's Greatest Dad' or 'Number 1 Dad'. This gave Sonic an idea, and he voiced it over a lunch of pizza rolls (Ed always made sure to have something handy that one could just stick in a microwave, since trying to cook had nearly given the poor program a heart attack). Clu thought it was a wonderful idea, and after lunch, they got supplies from Sonic's room and got to work.

To say Ed's day was horrible was an understatement. Not a moment to himself throughout the workday, AND he had to work with Mackey all day. The rain only worsened his mood. By the time he got home, he wanted to just flop on the bed and cry. But he knew he couldn't, and there were two reasons why. One of them was calling for him now.

"Daddy, come here!" A little voice called excitedly. Ed did his best to put on a happy face for little Sonic's sake as he followed the sound of the hoglet's voice. Putting on that face became much easier when he walked into the living room.

Sonic and Clu were seated together, and it was clear they'd been hard at work, Clu helping with a lot of glue and attaching things to a board (something Clu had probably gone to the Grid to get. Ed had taught him to operate the laser from the Userworld and the Grid in case of emergency. Tron, Tesler, and Hal had also been taught.) Sonic proudly gave a little presentation like he was handing out an Oscar, standing on the coffee table to make up (a little) for his small size.

".....the award goes to.....you!" He proudly held out a plaque almost as big as he was, covered in all kinds of blue and red and gold sparkles and shiny stuff, the design clearly the work of a small child. The words 'Number 1 Dad' were clearly legible (probably written with Clu's help). His little face peeked around it with a huge smile as he held it up.

God, you're just the cutest, Ed thought.

"As does this one." Clu said, holding out his own, much neater (but just as shiny and sparkly) plaque that read 'World's Greatest User'.

Ed hadn't even realized his eyes had watered. He dropped his stuff on the couch, carefully taking each one, looking at it, and placing it carefully to the side so his hands were free. He then proceeded to pull both of his kids in for a hug.

"I love you both so much," he sniffed. He couldn't stop smiling now. This was why he did it. This was why he put up with the crap at work. This was why he put up with Mackey. For these two. Clu, whose life he'd saved from evil, to whom Ed was a hero who had made his greatest wishes and dreams come true (one of those being to have a User who cared about him and loved him), and who had reclaimed the term 'User' and made it so that now Clu associated it with kindness and care and love. And little Sonic, who had been sent to him from another world, who had stolen Ed's heart immediately and continued to do so every time he called Ed 'Daddy' and smiled up at him with those big green eyes or hugged him or snuggled up to him.

He would spend all day every day with Mackey for these two. They were his whole world, his little family, and he couldn't imagine life without them in it.

Later that night, after he had read a story and Clu had sang a song while they tucked Sonic in, and after Clu had returned home, Ed went to bed himself. He smiled at the two plaques that now hung on his wall, right where they would be the first thing he saw when he woke up and the last thing he saw when he went to sleep. Those two awards, he knew, would always mean more to him than anything he could receive from Encom or anywhere else. Hell, he could get a medal from the President, and even that would never be as important to him as being Number 1 Dad and World's Greatest User.

#thanks for the ask!#I loved writing this!

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incandescent-creativity · 2 years

Text

Episode Eight

Next: Episode Nine

Word Count: 4,167

—

Christian sits at the bar, pretending to sip at a whiskey as he thinks things through.

He cannot make sense of it. Since the moment he stepped onto the bridge for the first time, and suffered Barbara Agau’s blatantly candid introduction, Captain Beth has been large and in charge. He still remembers how deftly she had manipulated Finnigan’s presence on the deck. She had relegated him to Engineering without insult, and allowed her mother to continue without insult as well.

Then, the first mission he had been involved in: that broken ship threatened by Klingon pirates. Beth had delegated tasks to each of them with utter confidence. She had used him and his position without hesitation—as is her right, as she should have! He is head of security. It’s what he does. It’s what he was trained to do, and what he has been practicing at for years.

Part of that training has been watching. He constantly scans for threats, and keeps an eye on the behavior of those around him. Usually, he can understand what motivates people. Even if it is cowardice, or greed, Christian can figure out what is going on behind people’s minds.

For the life of him, he cannot understand why Beth sat there and deigned to be chastised like a child.

“Fucking Vulcan bitch,” he mutters into his glass.

“That better not be our captain you’re talking about.”

Christian has trained himself not to show any outward startle, but Hans’s sudden voice tests those instincts. Setting his glass down with a touch more force than usual, he turns to face the Spark’s first officer.

“Of course not,” he says, even though Hans’s tone was the opposite of threatening.

“Her mother,” Hans says knowingly.

“You’ve met,” Christian says, not bothering to hide his grim bitterness.

“We all have,” Hans replies. “She was there on launch day.”

Christian huffs out a single laugh. “Yes, I remember.”

Hans requests his drink from the computer, and consults Christian out of the side of his eye as he waits.

“What happened?” he finally asks.

His first instinct is that the incident is on a need-to-know basis. The distribution of intelligence is also a key part of his job; when in doubt, the less people who know something means the less liabilities he has to deal with.

But there were several bodies in the room during that call. He doesn’t know where Lt. Cdr. Hans was, but surely there is a solid reason for his absence. The first officer must have plenty to attend to, after all.

“There was some symbol, one that Beth didn’t know,” he starts. “I don’t know why she didn’t just use the ship’s archives—she was going on and on about using all her resources, and surely that must be one of them. But she wanted to get the doctor’s input on whatever the symbol was.”

“And she didn’t know?” he asks, intrigued.

“Oh, she knew,” Christian says darkly. “And she shut us down immediately. It was all ‘answer my questions,’ and ‘leave this planet,’ and ‘forget everything you saw.’ I don’t trust it,” he adds unnecessarily.

Hans sets his glass aside. His intrigue has taken on a more serious hint. Receiving the singular attention of a higher officer would normally put Christian on edge, but Hans is a friendly enough figure that he doesn’t pose a threat.

“I did think our departure was sort of sudden,” he muses. “We barely got a warning that we would be beamed up before it happened.”

“I don’t trust it,” he repeats, “and I don’t understand it. We are millions of miles away from Earth, and from Dr. Agau. I know she’s her mother, and I know she has a lot of influence over our assignments, but she shouldn’t get to talk to our captain like that and get away with it.”

Anger leaks into his voice, and elevates his volume. He glares down every humanoid who glances over at them.

“Talk to her like what?” Hans inquires, concerned.

All at once, Christian finds himself unable to come up with a sufficient answer. His mental review of the conversation yields no answers. After all, what can he say? That she gave orders? That won’t sound unusual. It won’t convey what he is trying to make Hans understand.

“Never mind,” he mutters, turning away.

“No, tell me,” Hans presses.

“I said never mind,” Christian snaps. “If you want to know so badly, go ask her yourself.”

Something in the suggestion makes Hans recoil. Christian knows it’s a low blow; he remembers the tense disagreement between captain and first officer during the Klingon pirate situation. To his eyes, they have held each other at a cool distance ever since.

“I think I will,” Hans says, standing up from the barstool. “Thank you for the information, Christian. I’ll leave you to your drink—you can finish mine, as well.”

Christian knows he won’t do that, but offers a tight-lipped nod of his head in acknowledgment anyway as Hans walks away.

—

Refusing to let his nerves get the better of him, Hans pings a request at his captain.

She picks it up right away.

“Lieutenant Commander,” she greets him.

The state-of-the-art communications technology means that her voice is inserted directly into his ear. It sounds like she is standing right up close to him, lips right near his ear. The thought makes him shiver.

“Captain,” he returns the greeting. “I was wondering if you might meet me in holodeck three.”

During the short pause between communications, Hans braces for the inevitable questions that come his way. During the walk to the holodeck, he has been rehearsing his answers. She’ll want to know why, so he’ll propose a sort of peace talks. She might want to know what brought this one, at which point he will tell her that he was busy engaging their crew. She may even ask him why she should come meet him. He’ll tell her that he wants to foster better communication and cooperation between them.

Hopefully, those sort of technical answers will go over well with their half-Vulcan captain. If they don’t, if she feels like he is making fun of her, Hans could possibly end up making things worse.

But instead of interviewing him, all Beth says is, “I will arrive shortly.”

A short triple beep indicates that she has closed the channel. If it weren’t for that sound, Hans wouldn’t believe what he just heard.

She’s on her way? Just like that?

Hans doesn’t know if this is good luck, or bad luck, and only time will tell. The only thing he knows for sure is that he now has to work double-time to get the area set up. Sliding the occupancy filter to occupied, with an allowance of one, he steps through the doorway.

The pleasantly neutral voice of the computer greets him. Upon his request, it sets up the exact scene he wants.

He asks it for a coastal setup. Specifically, he pulls up a cliffside view of the North American east coast. It’s where he grew up; if the conversation between them grows stale, he can use it as a quick, light change of topic. He sets it as a beautiful sunset, too. He doesn’t want to force her to stay with him; if it gets dark, and they haven’t finished, he’ll let her go.

Finally, he boosts the sound of the waves below them. It’s a soothing sort of rhythm, and another good filler for if their words fail them.

He is just stretching his arms out to take a deep, satisfying breath of the chilled seaside air when Hans hears footsteps behind him. Putting on a warm smile, he turns with welcoming words on his lips.

Hans’s greeting catches in his throat. Beth is openly smiling. This isn’t a twitch of her lips, so fast he thinks he imagined it. Nor is she politely returning an expression that he offers first. Both of those instances have happened before.

The look on her face now, as she draws closer to him, is something completely different. This is an honest, open, genuine smile that Hans would even go as far as to classify as a grin. Her blue eyes are moving steadily over the trees rustling in the muted wind and the clouds stained by the sunset with an air of wonder reflected in the curve of her lips.

It completely transforms her. He doesn’t know what he has done to prompt such a reaction, but the austere captain has been overtaken by someone slightly more human. She still has the pointed ears, of course, and the sharpened eyebrows, but Hans feels like this is the first time he has seen the person behind the Starfleet uniform.

When she turns this vibrant, beautiful smile on him, he has to remember how to speak.

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

“And miss this?” she responds without losing that smile. “Not for anything.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he says, and he means it.

“How did you know?” she asks, finally arriving to stand in front of him.

“The smile gave it away,” Hans replies honestly.

A spark of amusement flashes through her eyes. “No, I meant—well, never mind. It doesn’t matter. You had something you wanted to discuss.”

The reminder sobers him. Hans has to pull back, having found himself accidentally leaning in closer to her. He ends up with his back against a tree. Committing, he puts his weight on it.

“Yes. If it’s not too forward, I wanted to know what you learned from that symbol we found on Drozil.”

Regrettably, Beth’s smile shrinks until barely a shadow of it is left.

“You pulled us back so quickly,” Hans hurries to add, “I thought it must have been some kind of—something that meant we were in danger, or some kind of warning.”

The captain sighs, and crosses her arms in a manner that looks like it’s meant to wrap her arms around herself for comfort than display some kind of displeasure with him.

Looking out across the sea to the horizon, she says, “Could I trouble you for some advice, Hans?”

The use of his name over his title startles him, but it’s a welcome change.

“Of course.”

“I believe the answers to whatever is behind that symbol can be found on a great library planet.”

“But…?”

“But we are under direct orders from Dr. Agau herself to abandon any pursuit related to the subject,” Beth tells him.

And there it is. Confirmation of Christian’s story, and the heart of the problem. While it’s true that he wanted to find out what had happened, and it’s true that that aim is working out better than he ever could have hoped, Hans feels bad for her. Alone in this room with him, overlooking the ocean, Beth’s posture conveys a deep-seated conflict.

Stepping closer to her, Hans does his best to offer the only comfort he can think of.

“She’s a professor, isn’t she?”

Beth nods.

“Then she already values the search for knowledge. I’m sure she would understand if you went out to solve this mystery.”

“Against direct orders?” Beth says doubtfully.

Struck by inspiration, Hans takes her hand. She nearly pulls away from him, snapping her head around to look at him, but he just wants to make sure she sees him sitting down on the ground. As soon as he gets his feet dangling over the cliff edge, and she joins him with her legs crossed, he lets go.

“The first time I ever disobeyed direct orders was on a flight mission,” he starts his story. “It was a two-person mission: one to fly out and blast apart a particularly erratic comet, and the other to operate the lifeline belt.”

“Which one were you?”

Now it is his turn to gaze out at the horizon.

“Neither. I was the ensign operating the airlock. We didn’t know that that damn comet was made of—well, I forget the name of the metal. But it reflected the phaser blast back at us, instead of shattering like it was supposed to.

“In a way, we were lucky—it didn’t puncture the ship, and it didn’t hit the officers. What it did do was slice through the lifeline.”

When he turns his head to look over at her, he sees Beth’s full attention is devoted to his story. Swallowing hard, Hans continues.

“I slammed the alarm button, and my captain told me to stay put. The emergency retrieval crew was on its way. But there wasn’t time. Anybody could see that. So, despite orders, I did what I had to do.”

“You saved them?” she asks.

As per usual, he can’t identify her tone. It came in handy when she was dealing with those Klingon pirates, but right now, Hans wishes he could know if she was admiring, disbelieving, or something else entirely.

“I’ve never put on a space suit so fast before,” he says by way of answer. “I was closing the airlock while still putting the last fasteners in place,” he says with a small laugh. “But yes, all three of us made it back intact.”

Having reached the end of the story, he looks her straight in the eyes.

“It wasn’t what I was ordered to do, and it wasn’t in any protocols. Instead, I evaluated what was in front of me, and I acted. And everything turned out just fine in the end.”

Beth holds his gaze solidly. For a long moment, the two of them hold eye contact as the sun sets behind them. Hans won’t be the one to look away—he feels like he could look at her forever. If that’s what she needs while she thinks through everything that he has said, that is perfectly fine with him.

—

Beth has requested what she has begun to think of as her core crew to go down with her to the great library planet.

Christian, citing a lack of interest in research, elects to stay behind and man the ship. But Hans, Hallie, and Matt all agree to go with her. She logs the ship’s activity as shore leave, so there may be more Spark crew wandering around, but these three stick by her.

If she is lucky, Dr. Agau won’t pay attention to anything marked as shore leave.

This sort of open defiance still feels risky to her, but Hans clearly thought it was the right thing to do. And she cannot deny the curiosity she feels. What are the odds she would discover something so completely new on an ancient Class C planet, of all places?

The humanoid stewards of the library (all of them bald, for some reason) explain how to interface with their planet as they escort her from the landing pad. Apparently, there are nodes emerging across the planet’s surface that attach onto the heads of those requesting information like a hairstylist’s hooded dryer. There are enough where people don’t have to form queues around them, but there are several superstitions about what makes some nodes better than others.

“There has never been any replicable data that proves some sites are more reliable than others,” the lead steward tells her. “We can assure you that we will be able to assist you with whatever you need from any site.”

Having walked far enough to come to their first node, the stewards stop. The one in front, dressed in what must be their traditional robes, holds a hand out in an inviting gesture.

Beth steps forward to take the invitation, but Hans blocks her.

“Let me, Captain,” he says. “If this thing is going to overload a brain, it’ll be better to lose me than you.”

“I can assure you, our sites are quite safe,” the steward says, maintaining an unperturbed tone. “Even for androids.”

“Really?” Hallie speaks up.

This makes Hans pause. “Oh, do you want to try?”

“I’m sure we can all find our separate nodes,” Beth points out. “Hans, you may certainly take this one. Perhaps there is one off in a private corner I could use?”

“Certainly, captain. Right this way.”

The steward to the library leads her to a pleasant space reminiscent of a Zen garden. There are no trails in the sand, but there is an arrangement of stones, a bench with a stone node resting above it, and the whole space is overshadowed by a large tree.

“Thank you.” When the steward doesn’t understand the clear dismissal, she tries again. “You may bring any of my crew to me if they request it. Until then, I will do fine on my own.”

With a shallow bow of his head, the steward finally leaves her.

Settling against the library site, Beth slots her head into the dome. Nothing happens at first; it’s an anticlimactic moment that would disappoint her if she ever felt any emotions.

At a loss, she falls back on an old trick. There is a physical relaxation process she has used for years. Every meditation she has ever experienced has started this way: she relaxes her ankles, her calves, her knees, and on and on. By the time she gets to her shoulders and neck, she is relaxed enough to close her eyes.

Rather than the cool grey tones she usually sees, Beth sees an ocean of stars.

There are as many points of light in front of her as she has ever seen in the vastness of the universe. They are incalculable. Beth reaches out a hand, and makes contact with the point of light nearest her.

A Treatise on the Classification of Planets, as sponsored by the United Federation of Planets.

The way she comes to understand the title of this book—if that is what this is—is unlike anything she has ever experienced. It isn’t necessarily a voice reading aloud to her, nor does she see words appear in a vision. Instead, it is as if the knowledge simply arrives in her mind. Within a few seconds, it feels as if she has always known it.

But she already knows the classification of the planets. What she needs to know is information on the unusual symbol they found.

As soon as she thinks about it, the stars in front of her shift. Beth goes from seeing hundreds of thousands of points of light, nearly turning her entire vision white in front of her, to one or two points of light.

A different researcher might be dismayed by such a low turnout, but Beth reminds herself of the challenges she has risen to meet before. At least this way, it will be quick work.

Settling deeper into her seat, Beth starts looking for answers.

The first point of light seems remarkably unrelated. It’s a history book, recounting the history of a group of arrogant scientists and their wayward creations. As far back as the twentieth century, scientists were intentionally creating humanoids now referred to as Augments. They were stronger, had heightened senses, and increased lung capacity. The information comes slowly, as if fragmented or grasped from far-off sources.

With a mote of light grasped in her hand, Beth learns how there were wars fought over the actions of these augmented individuals. Initially created under a vision of peace, they seized power for themselves, and conflicts followed.

It’s all very interesting, but Beth doesn’t see what it has to do with the symbol they found.

A jolt pierces through her mind, as if the planet is fast-forwarding through pages to get her to the right one. Beth imagines the front page of a chapter as a new name enters her mind: Arik Soong.

To her surprise, it’s a name she recognizes.

Dr. Agau is considered an expert on genetics, both ancient and modern. She has written tens of papers on the subject, and Beth has always been eager to read each and every one.

Arik Soong was a novel geneticist of his time (that time being the 22nd century). He believed the abandonment of genetic manipulation was a mistake, but he thought to rectify it by stealing Augment embryos. That’s all Beth can remember on her own, but it serves as enough context for now.

This symbol is representative of Arik Soong’s work.

The revelation is exciting—Beth doesn’t mind admitting it to herself. If she has found a potential connection to Dr. Agau’s area of expertise, she could tell her. It would fix whatever mistake she made earlier. Her mother will forgive her!

She must be focusing too hard on something, because the landscape of light changes again.

This time, the entire planetary library cannot present her with a single piece of information. Beth’s consciousness is floating in a completely dark void.

This, too, is exciting. If she has found a gap in their knowledge, perhaps she can fill it. All she has to do is figure out what is missing. What had she been thinking about? Genetics, obviously. Forgiveness, sort of. And her mother herself. One by one, Beth focuses on each of these topics. Genetics has a plethora of light, and forgiveness has enough to tell her that it isn’t the answer.

Only when Beth tries to find out more about her mother does she run into a void.

Well, perhaps it doesn’t mean anything. Perhaps the library doesn’t have specific information on individuals. So, she tries again. She requests information on the heads of the Starfleet Academy. While not a one-to-one match, it still pulls up information. All she has to do is quickly pass her hand through the bunches of light to confirm that there are short biographies on each admiral. She can even find names of professors if she focuses hard enough.

So why isn’t there anything on Agau?

Before she can dive deeper into the answer, her body is forcibly ripped from the node.

—

Hans has stayed with the majority of the crew.

He can’t imagine what they are looking up. Was the Academy’s training not enough for them? What else is there, besides the Spark? But Hallie hasn’t unplugged since she went in, and even Matt has his head in a node.

Not quite trusting them, and without any burning questions left to answer, Hans has taken it upon himself to walk between each of them. Nobody asked him to, but Christian is still on the ship, and somebody has to look after them. All he has is the general direction where Beth went, but it’s enough to explore further and further each time he circles around.

On his third pass, he hears her voice.

“What—get off of me! Unhand me!”

Hans breaks into a run.

He comes around the corner to see a pair of stewards on each of Beth’s arms, and a third one behind them. They are helping her stand up out of the node she was using, and taking her in the opposite direction of the rest of the crew.

Without thinking, Hans throws himself on the one closest to him.

They fall to the ground, with Hans on top of the other man’s back. He keeps one arm wrenched behind the steward, and uses his elbow to drive a blow to the back of the man’s head. His body falls limp, so Hans scrambles to his feet.

Once he’s standing again, he sees Beth poised in a battle stance above the two that had been on her. He rushes over, but remembers how she had reacted the last time he put hands on her unexpectedly. Instead, he hovers them to his side.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Fine,” she replies shortly, looking side to side. “I found something.”

“Great,” he says, still just as alarmed as she probably is. “You can tell me back on the ship.”

“No,” she denies. “I have questions that need answering.”

“And I expect you just got them all answered,” Hans says.

She finally looks back at him. “No, just the opposite.”

“Captain, it’s an entire planet,” he insists. “It’s not going anywhere. But there are hostiles towards you here and now.”

“Hostiles that we can clearly take care of on our own,” she points out, standing up from her stance and gesturing to the unconscious humanoids.

Sighing, Hans retrieves his phaser and sets it to stun.

“Are we going to fight the whole planet?”

“Of course not,” Beth tells him. “That would be illogical.”

Hans has to laugh, looking down for a moment before back up at his captain. She stands as stiff and severe as she ever does, but he finally has some trust in whatever she is planning. So what if she doesn’t let him in on it? Everything she has done has worked out this far.

“We wouldn’t want to be illogical,” he says, smiling at her.

“Certainly not.”

“Lead the way, captain.”

#sole trek au

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