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voiceoffenrisulfr · 11 months ago

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Magic and Madness - Chapter Four

It is the Green-Eyed Monster Which Doth Mock the Meat it Feeds On.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> Tony Stark x Stephen Strange

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -> Tony acts like Tony, and Stephen gets caught out.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 3335

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> (E) CW: flirting with someone else, ED mentions (Nat), guilt, alcoholism, internalised homophobia. And smut. All the smut. All the time.

𝐀/𝐍 -> A Companion Piece to Multitudes, running relatively adjacent as of chapter thirteen (here), exploring the relationship of Tony Stark and Stephen Strange. This chapter corresponds to Multitudes chapter fifteen. Don't worry, the next chapter picks up... Oh, about two hours after this one ends. ;)

Check it out below, or on AO3 here! Dividers come from yours truly.

<- Previous Chapter (3/46) Next Chapter (5/46) ->

“Doctor Banner requests everyone’s attendance as a show of support and in order to discuss a development in Ms. Romanoff’s treatment. Please present for dinner thirty minutes earlier than usual in order to have a frank conversation regarding unacceptable permissiveness of problematic behaviour.”

Tony groaned, slinging an arm over his eyes. “Friday, I created you. I’m pretty certain I give the orders around here.”

“Yeah you do,” I muttered with a hum, nuzzling closer to his throat, and he laughed in shock, lips brushing my hair.

“Stephen Strange, how uncouth.”

I snorted tiredly, kissing the pulse thrumming beneath my mouth. “Shhh… It’s time to sleep, Stark.”

His fingers caressed my spine lightly, still bare, leaving a line of heat in his wake. “We probably shouldn’t. It sounds serious.”

“Yeah,” I sighed reluctantly, but found myself shuffling closer despite myself.

“Maybe we should cook something… It would be nice to show we care, right?”

We. We. We.

Please never stop saying that.

“I… Clint once gave me some of his goulash. Told me I’d know when to use it. I think that time is now,” I murmured against his skin, arm cinching tighter around his waist.

I’m scared to leave this paradise we have made. I know what we are outside of this bed, and I can’t do that. Not yet. Not now. Please.

“… I have already cooked this week. Think you can do your Sparkles stuff and take me to In-N-Out? Everybody loves cheeseburgers, right? … Man, I’d kill for a cheeseburger right now.”

I laughed, intrepid fingers trailing the hills and valleys of his ribcage. “You got it. …We have time, though, right?”

“What did you have in mind, sweetheart?” he purred, twitching closer.

Sweetheart.

I snorted, shaking my head fondly. “Sleep?” His face fell despite himself, and I grinned wickedly. “Though I do recall you essentially begging that I frequent the space between your legs far more often…”

“That. I choose that. Please.”

“Four hours… .015 BAC reduction per hour since imbibing… Nope. You’re sitting around… 0.14.”

“You short-changed me?” he muttered, and I winced, but he simply snorted. “Keep it .20 or over, and I don’t care. I can drink the difference.”

I rolled my eyes, shaking my head. “You’re missing the key point here. I’m spending absolutely no time between your legs when you’re legally intoxicated.”

He sighed, but laced his fingers in mine, pressing them to his forehead as his hips twitched. “Get it done, Sparkles.”

As much as he found very evident relief in my ministrations – or, as he so delightfully and filthily phrased it as his back arched and he jerked desperately, the fact that I could apparently ‘suck that cock like a goddamn pro’ – his reprieve was undeniable when I carefully inched his blood alcohol back up.

Hate. Wrong. No.

"Hi, can I have... I don’t know. Some. Thirty? Let’s say thirty. Thirty cheeseburgers. To go.”

“… You’re Tony Stark. You’re Iron Man. At In-N-Out Burger. Iron Man is at In-N-Out Burger.”

I rolled my eyes with a sigh, resisting the urge to snarl at the girl barely out of teenagehood and trailing her gaze across the individual I was quickly coming to consider mine, despite how ill-advised that may be.

“If I give you an autograph, can I get the burgers faster?” he purred, leaning forward on the counter as he pushed the sunglasses up his forehead to meet her eye, and she blushed.

“I-I-I’d love that! Ohmigosh, thank you!” she giggled, twisting her hair around her finger.

…Seriously?

He paid and pulled a pen from his pocket, the cap balanced between his teeth as he scrawled his name at the bottom of the receipt, presenting it with a flourish. “For you… Lola,” he added, grinning as his eyes flicked to her name badge, and she turned a deeper crimson as I fought the temptation to kill everyone in the room and then myself.

Pacifist. I’m a pacifist. We’re not even dating, right? And he’s single. To the outside world, he’s single. And straight. And definitely not mine. Nope. Not mine.

… Damn it all, I wish he was mine.

My hands shook as I formed the portal in the alley, taking us directly to the dining room. Tony only raised an eyebrow before I started to move again, muttering about picking something up from the Sanctum.

“… I’ll be right back. I brought burgers.”

He ducked through behind me before I could close the damned thing, raising an eyebrow. “Doctor Strange, are you trying to avoid me?”

“I’m picking up goulash,” I muttered, turning away petulantly to root through my poorly stocked freezer – but his hand clamped around my wrist, pulling me back to his chest.

“No no, sweet boy. You tried to drop me off first, rather than steal a few extra minutes with me. I’m not stupid.” Really? Feels like it. “What’s going on?”

I growled as I tugged back, feeling for all the world like a dramatic child, but unable to reign in my annoyance and jealousy. “Nothing. I don’t owe you anything, and you don’t owe me anything, right? So forget it.”

He blinked in surprise, fingers releasing me, and I stepped back. “… Is… Is this about the girl?” My jaw rolled in anger, and he laughed, moving toward me. “Stephen, I-”

“No. You don’t have to explain yourself, Stark. I understand completely.”

I’m your dirty, shameful secret.

“You’re sexy when you’re jealous,” he purred, inching nearer.

“Fuck you.”

“Even sexier when you’re mad.” My back bumped the counter, and his hands found the surface either side of me as he smirked. “Stephen, I am, very publicly, not… I mean, to the world, I like girls. But outside of the public eye… Well, I like you. Is that not enough? I flirted with her to get us out of there faster. To get you here, faster. To be with you, you goddamn idiot.”

Startled, I stammered wordlessly, then scowled. “That would mean more if you weren’t intoxicated, Stark.”

“What do I get if I let you make me entirely sober?” he murmured, lips tracing the curve of my throat. “I’d say it all again without a drop in my system.”

Anything. Everything. I’d do anything to hear you tell me you care about me without that stuff inside you.

“Anything,” I whispered, head falling back, before I flushed with panic. “I-I mean, I…”

“Anything, huh?” he snorted, hands finding my backside to slide me onto the counter, positioning himself between my thighs. “Well, that is incredibly tempting.” He was only a few inches shorter than I was, and almost definitely stronger, but I was still impressed – and aroused – by how easily he lifted me.

I wonder if he could throw me. Ideally onto a bed.

“…Fine.”

“Wh- huh?” I stammered, distracted by my own train of thought. Please break me. I’ll die a happy man.

“Sober me up, and I’ll tell you how much you mean to me. Or I’ll sob like a child – one of those two things,” he snorted, shaking his head. I hesitated, and he rolled his eyes, pressing my hand to his forehead.

“I’m waiting, Strange.”

I was getting far too adept at cleansing his system, and he winced as he blinked his eyes open.

“… I regret every choice that led me to this point… E-except you,” he added, glancing at me as his face reddened. “… I… You mean a lot to me, Stephen. A real lot, and certainly more than a girl in a fast-food restaurant. Or any restaurant – any… Any girl, Stephen. Dear God, this is hard. Is it always this hard? I miss being drunk,” he muttered, shaking his head firmly. “Stephen Strange, you maddening bastard, I can definitely see myself falling in love with you, okay? Okay. Awesome. Whiskey?”

I blinked in surprise as he moved away, hands shaking as he scoured my cupboards desperately. “Uh… You know I can…”

“That’s not exactly fair of me, is it?” he quipped, jaw tight. “Do you have any alcohol? How do you not have any alcohol?”

“There’s beer in the refrigerator, but-”

He raided the fridge desperately, using the metal edge around his wrist to pop the top and taking a long drink.

… Jesus, Stark. It’s that bad?

… Did he custom-make a bracelet for opening bottles? He’s… What a devastating waste of talent.

“Tony, can you just stop for a second?” I laughed hollowly, finally sliding from the counter to tug him closer by his shirt. “Just one kiss. One sober kiss?”

He hesitated briefly, chest trembling under my fingertips before his mouth met mine with a growl and a desperate groan. “I don’t have to see myself falling in love with you, Tony,” I breathed as we drew apart, my arms wrapping tightly around him to press my chin to his hair. “I am falling in love with you. My poor, sweet boy. I just want to help you.”

He sobbed at last, fingers clenching in the back of my shirt, and I held him harder. “I can’t. I can’t do this. I’m not… I… I’m not strong enough. Please, Stephen. Please.”

“I know, honey. It’s okay. I’ve got you – we’ve got this, okay? Together, I promise. I’ll always be here, no matter how long it takes, do you hear me?”

He wept freely against my chest as his knees gave way, and I let him shift to the floor, pulling him onto my lap and humming softly as I rocked his shaking body.

“… I hate this.”

“I know, Tony.”

“I don’t want to ask.”

I sighed, closing my eyes against my own pain as I pressed my lips to his forehead, the incantation falling easily. “You don’t have to, my dearest.”

He let out a soft whimper of relief, and I expected him to immediately scamper away – but he only curled closer, sniffling pitifully. “…. I… I’m sorry.”

“I know. It’s okay,” I murmured, hands still smoothing his back lightly.

“… Did you mean it?”

“Without a doubt.”

“… How?”

I drew back in surprise, and he flinched, red, tearstained face ducking. “I don’t understand what you’re asking.”

“How can you… I mean, look at me, Stephen. I’m not exactly what you… What people grow up dreaming about,” he muttered, waving a hand at himself tiredly, and I snorted.

“You’re all I’ve dreamt about for longer than I’d care to admit, Stark,” I admitted quietly, fingers entwining with his. “I know everything you’ve ever done, and you’re still the one I want.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“No, I’m a magician with numb legs, and we’re late to dinner. Now get off me, Stark. The sooner this is over, the sooner I finally get to wake up next to you.”

He smirked as he got to his feet, offering me his hand with a courteous bow.

I didn’t realise it had gotten so bad again, I reflected, wincing, Tony’s hand tracing gentle but distracting patterns on my knee.

Bruce had given us a quick rundown – and snorted at the fact that every single person, without fail or exception, had brought food to a meeting about someone who famously struggled to eat. We sat chagrined around the table, my own thoughts recalling helping her avoid Tony’s macaroni and cheese. I couldn’t bring myself to feel guilty – her distress and terror seemed profoundly genuine – but I knew I should have encouraged her to talk to someone.

I was distracted. Again. Thinking about him. …Am I terrible person? A terrible friend?

“Essentially, if you see something, say something,” Bruce finished, glancing around to a chorus of nods and murmurs of regret.

It seems I’m not the only one who let her get away with things she perhaps shouldn’t have.

“Hey, guys.”

My gaze shot up, fixing on the red band loose on her bony wrist as she waved, and I flinched.

A heavy, awkward silence followed, and Tony picked up his glass as he cleared his throat. At least he’s taking his time with this one… It’s still only his first. That’s an improvement, right?

“Eat a goddamn cheeseburger, Nat,” he snorted, taking a sip, and I winced in horror, along with Clint and around half of the others gathered – but she only laughed.

“Actually, I’d love one, if that’s a genuine offer.”

Oh, Natasha. I’m so proud of you.

There was a flurry of movement, serving dishes uncovered, a veritable feast spread across the table, and Tony picked up an individually-wrapped burger with a relish. “This lot have been cooking a bunch of what they like to call ‘real food’, but I went to In-N-Out. I cooked yesterday; that’s me done for the next month, at least.”

Yeah, that’s the exact reason you got fast food…

My hand traced his thigh, and he swallowed dryly, jaw twitching.

Wincing, I went to move away, concerned I’d accidentally angered him – but he grasped my fingers with his, keeping me exactly where I was, and I had to bite back a smile.

She rounded the table to sit beside him with a grin, reaching for a burger of her own.

I watched for a heartbeat, impressed, until Nick began to talk to her about her restricted duties until she was able to return to missions – level three or above – and I faded fully into the feeling of Tony’s thumb lightly caressing the back of my hand.

… Yeah. I’m definitely falling in love with him. Damn.

… I wonder how long I should wait before just giving in and letting him have his way with me. And how much I can reduce that without seeming too desperate.

Can it be yesterday?

No… I should definitely wait until he’s sober.

Though he was sober earlier, right? Maybe we can do that again.

Or should be sober-sober? Not just… Not actively inebriated?

Would it be right to sleep with him while he still harbours so much self-hatred?

... Can I stop myself?

Nat’s laugh jarred me from my thoughts, and I reluctantly tried a mouthful of the goulash I had no memory of serving myself. …I’ll be the first to admit it, this really is good. Well done, Clint.

He met my eyes with gracious nod, and I smiled softly.

Natasha snorted as I dropped my gaze one more. “You’re really selling it, Nick,” she muttered, before pausing and groaning. “Okay, I get it. I’d make a trip for this – and, as we all know… I don’t eat.”

Tony spluttered into his drink, and I moved instinctively, fingers shifting from his to the space between his shoulder blades, determinedly keeping my eyes on my bowl.

My thoughts would, without a doubt, be all over my face right now. Definitely better not to look at him. As much as I really, really want to.

Natasha and Clint were amongst the first to leave, though nobody complained, given her valiant attempt at eating. Bruce watched them with a fond smile before he adjourned shortly after, followed by Wanda and Vision, Shuri and T’Challa, Steven, Nick…

But Thor just kept eating, making it difficult – impossible – for Tony and I to leave together, and I stood with a reluctant sigh. “I… Suppose I should head back to the Sanctum,” I muttered, and the engineer nodded impassively.

“Goodnight, Doctor Strange.”

“Farewell, Stephen.”

The portal opened, and I stepped through reluctantly, sighing again as I found myself alone in my room and pulling my shirt over my head. “I was profoundly looking forward to waking up with him,” I muttered under my breath, tugging my phone from my slacks as it beeped.

I’m guessing I’ll see you shortly. On my way up now. Wear something considerably more comfortable… And easier to take off. - T x

I swallowed dryly, quickly tugging on some sweatpants I’d all but forgotten I owned, and a hoodie hanging at the back of my closet being pulled over my bare chest, hands shaking with anticipation as I made a new portal. “Why didn’t I think about the fact that I can make more than one?” I sighed, shaking my head as I stepped through to his empty bedroom. “Stark and his… His…”

“‘My’ what, Stephen? I implore you to finish that sentence.”

I whirled around to find him watching me with a smirk, eyebrow raising as he took in my appearance. “Your damn hands on me making my mind go blank,” I snapped, but he just bit his lip thoughtfully as he moved closer.

“I wondered where that had gotten to.”

I glanced down in surprise as he inclined his head, blushing furiously.

“I-I found it… In the gym. I didn’t know it was yours.”

“You didn’t know the hoodie that says Stark Industries across the chest in big letters belonged to Tony Stark?” he quipped, eyebrow arching dramatically. “And you, somehow, are a surgeon and wizard?”

Plus it smelled like you, but let’s not mention that.

“I, uh… I mean, there’s a few around here…”

“I’m pretty sure you figured it out the second you buried your face in it. Something tells me you know exactly what kind of cologne I use.”

My mouth worked wordlessly, mortified at the memory of doing exactly that, and I felt my cheeks turn crimson. “Were you spying on me?”

He snorted, shaking his head proudly. “Nope. Actually, I had no idea. I took a shot, and it paid off. You did, didn’t you? Damn, Strange. This thing went missing weeks ago. How long have you been sweet on me?”

Longer than I’m going to admit, you cocky asshole.

“Look, I… Shut up,” I floundered, making him chuckle, his fingers wrapping around the base of my neck.

“Sober me up – somewhat, at least – and then do me a favour, and take off everything except my hoodie.”

My fingertips pressed eagerly to his forehead, watching in delight as his eyes cleared and he stepped back, waving his hand pointedly.

“Sober and waiting, baby. Let’s go. Pants off.”

Baby. Baby baby baby baby baby baby I should not love that as much as I do, holy-

“Mr. Stark, anyone would think you only want me for my body,” I teased, sitting on the edge of the bed to slide off my sweatpants.

“Oh, I want every part of you, love. Body and mind.” I gulped and shivered, and he hummed thoughtfully, raising a brow. “… I don’t feel… Doctor Strange, did you take advantage of my vague request and make me far below .08?”

“You’ll be entirely sober in… Two hours,” I replied, grinning cheekily. “You know. Just in case.”

“Stephen, I’m shocked. Is this your way of telling me you’d like to go all the way?”

I felt my cheeks flame, and I shrugged softly. “It’s my way of telling you that I’m not necessarily opposed to the idea…”

He swallowed dryly, curling the light tremble of his fingers into tight fists. “… I have to be entirely sober?”

“Ideally.”

“How ‘ideally’?”

I rolled my eyes, reclining onto my elbows, shivering with delight as his gaze trailed along my legs slowly. “Yes, Tony. You have to be entirely sober if you want to… If we… That is…”

He smirked as he stalked closer, hands finding the sheets either side of my shoulders as his body weight pinned me. “You’re flailing, sweetheart. You can say fuck, you know.”

“You have to be entirely sober to fuck me,” I quipped, and he groaned as his mouth found mine.

“I guess you’ll have to find a good way to pass the next two hours then, huh? I’ll need the distraction.”

“Just think about that promise you made.”

“Promise?” he prompted, brow furrowed, and I brushed my lips against his lightly.

“Didn’t you say something about ravaging me?”

He stuttered out an indecipherable noise as his hands found my wrists, pinning my hands over my head as my legs wrapped around his waist. “Baby boy, I am going to destroy you.” Dear. God. Please.

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emmaelt · 7 months ago

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On being diagnosd with AUDHD

It’s so unbelievable. I’m learning so much about myself this year, I keep joking I’m having an ‘Eat, Pray, Love’ year but it’s just ‘Body, Brain’. Maybe there's another B I'll find before the year is out.

With perspective, I don’t think I’ve really ever had depression - the only antidepressant I’ve tried is one that works best for ADHD people and now I know that that’s me it makes sense! - I think I’ve had meltdowns, burnout, and sensory issues the entire time? And I just always (tried to) push through and do my best but it’s never really gotten any better for me and my brain.

But now it’s like my entire life has been foggy and blurry and I’ve got glasses! Like my mum's story about getting glasses as a child and realising the trees have leaves from far away, or looking up and seeing actual stars. I feel like that’s what Adderal has done to me this week. But not just with being able to finally have a singular thought, but also in terms of day to day stuff that used to be actually painful for me.

I can put my clothes away now without crying first? And I still get sensory issues with stacking the dishwasher, but I don’t need to like psyche myself up for it as much. I’m not constantly narrating my own actions or having like an internal debate about every single fucking thing I have to do? The Autism stuff is still there - I’m reading this really fascinating book called ‘Unmasking Autism’ by Dr Devon Price that's really fucking me up (in a good way). But now that I know why I find things difficult, I can ask for things I need. I'm beginning to understand my own needs after supressing them for so long.

I went to the hygienist earlier in the month, and for the first time in my entire life I did not cry in my car from overstimulation after because I wore earplugs and had my noise cancelling headphones? And when I booked my haircut (first in over a year!) I told them I’d get overwhelmed and I don’t like wet hair on my neck and I’d wear headphones/earplugs, and the lovely person said if it was too loud they’d do it upstairs where it was much quieter! Who knew that I could ask for things I need, and most people would accomodate me?

I also am starting to let people know when I’m talking to them that I’m audhd and they seem to like me more? I don’t know, that one’s hard to explain, but the book I mentioned says that phenomenon is backed by experiments and research?

My brain is just 100 miles an hour but all going in the same direction now instead of bouncing about in a chamber like atoms or something. I can follow one cohesive thought from the moment I have it. Difficult (bad/negative/troubling/intrusive) thoughts are harder right now, because I can't distract myself from them as well.

So far on the meds - I know that my body always overreacts to meds/is more sensitive, so we started at a really low dose and even so, wow. I was more productive on Sunday afternoon (first dose at 6am that day) than I had been for the entirety of October. I currently have 0 unread emails and it’s revolutionary for me. My husband actually made me take a break because he didn’t want me to burn out, but even so I went to bed 4 hours later than normal… getting maybe 7 hours of sleep from my usual 10 I require is quite a difference for me - and I woke up at 5am Monday ready to go? Who is she?!?!

My brother said he feels that starting meds later in life compounded its positive impacts, as he developed so many coping mechanisms he wound't have otherwise. He said it was like going from 85% effective (70% base + 15% coping mechanisms) to 115%.

I’m so glad he feels that way, but I think maybe he has much lower support needs than I do, maybe because I’m both autistic and ADHD? I would have taken this medication over all of my struggling to learn how to barely manage (not thrive, I feel) any day. I feel like I’ve only ever had maybe 40% effectiveness, even with coping mechanisms. Even with being from an extremely privileged background, being highly educated, and really fucking smart.

How are other people without those things expected to manage?! None of my friends are even able to be seen on the NHS, as their GP's won't even refer them. I’m trying to not feel really devastatingly bad that I’m having such a different experience than them.

I was fortunate enought to have a parent who was proactive, she took me to like a new child psychologist or educational therapist every year when I was at primary school. They diagnosed me with dyslexia, but actually I’m hyperlexic. I eventually got diagnosed with depression and anxiety. I got medicated. But it never got better.

It took me 10 different private attempts (8 before I turned 18, 2 since), and the Doctor who diagnosed me with ADHD said I was ‘very clearly over the line for both inattentive and hyperactivity’. I’m really struggling with that because… I’ve got better coping mechanisms now? How could they not tell???? Well, they didn't acknowledge you could be both autistic and adhd until 2013 or something ridiculous, and girls were so rarely diagnosed with autism in the 2000's - so it makes sense I went undiagnosed. I’m really frustrated for my mum, because she spent so much time and effort trying to help me. But there was genuinely nothing she could have done.

Having context for my experiences along with this medication has been life altering... I feel I’ve unlocked my brain’s actual potential and I’m so devastated for past me that I wasn’t able to make the most of my younger years to be this version of me. I found everything so hard for so long... it's going to be really interesting to see what my life looks like from now on.

#audhd #adhd #autism #adhd meds #actually autistic #emmaelt

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dragonologist-phd · 2 years ago

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Owlcatober Day 2 - Favorite Food

also on ao3

Mercury prepares her favorite meal of the day, with some help from her newest party member.

It’s a gorgeous morning, and Mercury greets the day just as it deserves- with a bright smile and a sizzling fresh breakfast.

Her companions are, as usual, a little less than appreciative of the cheery, auspicious start to the day. They’ve griped about it before- something about not wanting to be awoken at sunrise by the sound of banging pots- but honestly, what kind of mercenaries sleep in? Adventures always begin at the crack of dawn, not the crack of noon.

Fortunately, they’ve all had time to get used to each other’s habits by now, and at this point the complaints seem more habitual than sincere. In any case, Mercury’s found that the smell of cooking pancakes is enough to wake up even the laziest of bones.

The newest addition to their team, however, simply looks confused on his first morning with the party.

Nok-Nok wrinkles his nose as he peers over Mercury’s makeshift kitchen, taking it all in with wide, wary eyes. In a growly voice, he demands, “What sidekick doing?!”

“The name’s Mercury,” Mercury tells the little goblin for the umpteenth time. “And I’m making breakfast, of course!”

“She’s a morning person,” Octavia groans. She turns in her bedroll and buries her head under her blanket, accidentally stealing it from Regongar in the process. “A loud one. You get used to it…eventually.”

Mercury rolls her eyes at the overdramatic response to being woken up at a perfectly reasonable hour by a few clanging pans. “Everybody complains about the noise,” she points out, “but nobody complains about the pancakes.”

“But why smell like that?” Nok-Nok demands again. “Not how food supposed to smell!”

It smells perfectly fine to Mercury, but she leans closer and breathes deeply just in case. Nothing- just the sizzling dough, tinged with fruity sweetness.

Valerie scoffs from her position across the camp. She’s the only one of the party who rises even earlier than Mercury, and she’s also the only one who opts for dried travel-ready nonsense over Mercury’s handmade meals. The knight narrows her eyes suspiciously at the breakfast and remarks, “He’s probably smelling the remnants of your potions.”

“Come on, Val…” Mercury protests, only to be cut off.

“I told you not to call me that, just as I told that until you begin cleaning out your vessels properly, I will be providing meals for myself.”

“Fine, Valerie, suit yourself. But it’s fine, Nok-Nok, I promise. It’s my specialty- an old family recipe for pancakes with fruit and maple syrup. It’s my personal favorite, too, you’ll love it.”

“That why it smell funny,” Nok-Nok cries, pointing a hand accusingly at the cooking food. “No meat! No meat is no meal!”

“Oh…” Mercury can’t say she agrees with Nok-Nok’s declaration, but she’s never traveled with a goblin before. She should have guessed that she’d have to account for differences in diet. Her mind spins through the different possibilities to address this oversight. “I’d make bacon, but we don’t really have any raw meat on hand. Doesn’t travel well, unless you’ve got the spells for it- oh, I think we’ve got some jerky left! I could serve that on the side, or maybe tear it up and combine it with the toppings-”

“No good!” Nok-Nok says firmly. “Sidekicks need fresh meat, get big and strong like Nok-Nok. I go find meat for everyone.”

“You sure?” Mercury asks. “We’ve got plenty food otherwise, and I don’t think you’ll find much around here aside from a few squirrels.”

Nok-Nok claps his hands happily. “Squirrel perfect! You see. Nok-Nok get best breakfast.”

Mercury considers the eager goblin, then finally reaches a decision and gives a nod. “Okay. I’ll make you a deal. I’ll eat whatever you bring back, if you at least try this.”

She fishes out one of the cooked pancakes out of the pan and spreads it on a cheap clay plate. After that comes the grilled fruit-apples today, they’re in season and they pair wonderfully with maple sugar. Last, but arguably most importantly, she finishes the whole thing off with a generous drizzling of syrup.

Perfect, she thinks as she presents the plate to Nok-Nok. The satisfaction of an expertly prepared meal isn’t quite as invigorating as the satisfaction of an expertly prepared smokepowder bomb, but it might be the only thing in the world that comes close.

Nok-Nok watches the whole process with skeptical caution, but once presented with the plate he concedes to take a small, cautious bite- and he immediately recoils.

“Too sweet!” He declares. “Hurts Nok-Nok’s teeth!”

Mercury quickly pulls the plate back, but the goblin snatches it from her hands and takes another chomp. “Uck! Nasty!”

On it goes, as Nok-Nok quickly devours the pancake, protesting all the while. When he’s done, he shakes his head in disapproval and grabs his pair of rusty daggers. “I go get squirrel now! Better than this, you see!”

He grabs the cup of syrup before he runs off, and Mercury can hear the alternating noises of disgust and eager slurping as he scampers into the brush.

Valerie watches the exchange with detached bemusement. “You do realize you’re going to regret making that deal with him?” she says once he’s gone from sight.

“Nah,” Mercury says. “I think he’ll surprise all of us. Besides, the number one rule for both an alchemist and a chef is to always be on the lookout for new recipes.”

Even after Nok-Nok returns proudly with a skewered squirrel, which he then proceeds to burn to a crisp over the campfire, Mercury stands by her statement. Nok-Nok will be a valuable contribution to the team, she’s certain of it.

Just…maybe not as the team’s new chef.

#owlcatober 2023 #ch: mercury #short fluffy piece today #i saw the prompt and knew this one had to be mercury

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smallcjb · 1 year ago

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I Need You To Know (Part 3)

- First of all, if you can all take mercy on me 😅 I have not written any sort of Drabble in a LOOOONGGG time. Like 6 years. And I saw a comment that was like, I guess there’s no part 3 and I couldn’t just leave it here. So I apologise if this ends up not seeming cohesive, but I am trying to bring closure to a Drabble series I started when I was a literal teenager 😅 I hope you enjoy! 💜 -

*MC pov*

Later that night I can’t sleep. I lie there, just staring up at the ceiling. Of course I’m just an asset to him. I really was just kidding myself to think otherwise.

An asset.

The words ring out in my head over and over again. I’d put myself in front of GUNS for him. What an idiot.

I feel rejected. Which is stupid because he was never mine. We haven’t even had a real conversation that isn’t around my ‘talents’. But somehow I did feel connected.

I sigh. I can’t just stay here moping. I get up and leave my room. I need to sort myself out, so I go knock on his door, maybe I can get some consolation.

Jaxon opens the door, looking a little confused to see me standing there.

“MC? You alright?”

“Can I come in? I need….I just need.” I don’t finish the sentence. I don’t know what it is I need but Jaxon seems like an easy option. He gestures behind him and I walk in.

“What the hell was that earlier? Standing in front of him like that? Stockholm syndrome? Like what?!”

He starts going off at me and that’s when I just go screw it. I curl my hands into his hair and kiss him. He freezes for a moment before he starts kissing me back.

The kiss starts to deepen and I feel his hand start to roam when….when….What am I doing?! I know I’m sad, but this is irational, this is stupid.

I pull away as quickly as I pulled him in. I see his confusion. It probably mirrors my own. And then I rush out before he has a chance to say anything.

*Antares pov*

As I’m heading to the toilet, the only privacy I’ll get on this ship, a door behind me opens. MC? She’s rushing out of the room looking panicked? And right behind her….

Jaxon…

What did he do to her?! Anger boils my blood and before I’m even thinking I’ve got him pinned up agains the wall.

“What did you do to her?” A growl enters my voice.

At this anger he actually smirks at me. A smirk!

“I didn’t do anything.” He says in a mocking tone. “She, on the other hand, just gave me the most mind blowing kiss I think she needed a minute to cool off.”

My grip loosens at this but my anger doesn’t. She kissed HIM? But? What am I even about to think. I told her she’s an asset, what right do I have to feel jealous. I let him go and walk off.

*MC pov*

The next day, feeling groggy would be an understatement for how I’m feeling. What was I thinking? I mean, I was thinking I was hurt and I wanted to feel something good. But that did not feel good. It felt wrong actually.

I go to grab some lunch when I run into Antares in the canteen. I give him a small smile and then walk past, grabbing what I need. How is he alone in here? Did Orion trust his twin more than we thought?

“Have a good night last night?”

Im caught off guard by his voice.

“Sorry?”

“Last night, did you have fun?”

Is that….hurt in his eyes? Fun last night? What is he….? Oh shit. He saw? But how could he think that was fun. All it was was a quick kiss and me running away?

Finally catching on I answer his question. “You think running out of someone’s room after the most awkward kiss is fun?” I see his eyebrows shoot in before he can train his face into the usual stoic look. “Why do you care anyway? I’m just your asset. I can be an engineer while kissing other people.” He lets out a grunt at that.

Before I get to explore what’s happening here more, Atlas and Orion walk in.

“So, we should be at a neutral colony in the next 5 hours, and we can be rid of our….guest.” Orion pauses on the word, probably trying to determine what matches him best.

“Good. I’ve decided I’ll leave you be with the engineer. I’ve got a back up in mind anyway.”

My heart stops.

He has a back up? Then why the hell would he even bother trying to get me back?

That hurts. Again, for no logical reason. But that I’ve been replaced so easily.

*Antares pov*

Of course I haven’t replaced her, and seeing that hurt across her face again awakens something inside of me. Something that makes me uncomfortable.

But she could see her kiss with Silva bothered me. And I can’t have that. I don’t care.

She is just. An. Asset.

Nothing more. That’s what I need to remind myself. So when I get off this ship, I will find a replacement. She made her choice.

Even if she said it was awkward? Maybe she means she just feels awkward telling me about it.

Whatever it is, this is not good for me. My crew probably already think I’ve hit my head or something. I will get off at this colony, call my crew, and forget about all of this.

Done. Easy.

* 5 hours later *

We land and I hear Orion and his crew speaking about what resources they need to collect before setting back off.

They drop me off in front of a communications centre and say next time I try and board their ship unannounced I’ll have a bullet in my chest. Such gracious hosts.

I call my crew and they tell me they’ll be with me as soon as possible.

Great, so I’ll just wait on this desolate colony. Maybe I should find a bar, get some drinks in me. It’s not like I can embarrass myself in front of my crew anymore.

I head straight to the barmaid and order 4 shots of the brightest green shot they have available. That should dull the last day for at least a little while.

As I’m downing my third shot I catch a glimpse of a familiar face. I turn, my head and I fail miserably at hiding the shock on my face.

MC?

I try to train my face back to neutrality.

“What are you doing here?” I keep my voice bland, disinterested, though that’s far from how I’m feeling.

She looks like she’s trying to bring up some deep hidden confidence. I see her pull a semi convincing confident smile.

“We have unfinished business.”

- That’s it for Part 3. I know, it’s rusty and awful, but at least I’m trying….right? 😅 Part 4 may be coming, or maybe I’ll disappear for another 6 years, who knows 😁 -

#lovestruck #starship promise #drabble #atlas molniya #antares fairchild #love and legends #i need you to know #i return!

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mtdthoughts · 1 year ago

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I have just finished writing Chapter 7 of the fanfiction.

This time, it's in Dali's perspective, and it contains the entirety of Episode 8 in his POV.

This chapter also hurt a bit to write. But I promise, it'll get better!!

I sat inside my tent, reflecting on what just happened. Just as I uncovered the truth of what had happened that Christmas night, Migi came and interrupted us. Through a series of blunders, he must have realized that Sali was me all along and bit me out of anger, and then he ran away from me just as I was about to start our revenge against Eiji. I attempted to run after him, but after encountering the old couple downstairs, there was no way I could continue chasing him, otherwise I’d risk exposing our secret to them. I had to give up and find Migi another day.

I continued staring at the bite mark my younger brother left on me. Sure, I understood why he was angry with me. I tricked him into falling in love with a disguised version of myself, and then I ruthlessly broke his heart after he caught me talking to Eiji. But I had to do it, it was all for Mother’s sake, and for ours as well. That’s what I told myself.

Yet even though I have lived with Migi my entire life, I wasn’t quite sure what to do now. Usually, when Migi was angry with me, he would just sit or lay down sulking, and he would get better after I comforted him a bit. I was prepared to take on Migi and all of his anger, but I wasn’t expecting him to run away from me. He’s never done this before! Even though I hurt Migi’s feelings, I hoped he’d be more understanding, that we could never live normally in Origon Village while we still had a duty to fulfill to Mother.

Who was I kidding? This was how Migi’s always been, relying on his emotions rather than reason. And it’s not like I haven’t noticed how Migi has slowly slipped away into our new lifestyle in Origon Village. How he gradually became a true member of the Sonoyama family. How he… drifted away from me and Mother.

Regardless, this was something that needed to be done, and we needed to be together to do this. I’ll make it up to him later, but right now this matter comes first.

I lay in bed alone that night with nothing but a stuffed bear next to me. It felt unusually cold without my brother by my side. I struggled to get much sleep as I continually thought about what to do and what to say to Migi.

Suddenly, out of some strange compulsion, I decided to sneak out of the house and biked to Eiji’s house. I quietly crept over to the yard where Migi fell, and there I found the shattered necklace that Migi had tried to give me earlier. I picked up all the pieces and put them in my pocket before heading home to sleep.

Over the next couple of days, I decided to wait for Migi. I hoped that he would come back after cooling down a bit, but he never did. I also tried to repair the necklace, but I just couldn’t do it. It was shattered into so many pieces that it was beyond repair.

Eventually, I couldn’t wait anymore and decided to look for Migi myself. After searching around the various hiding spots we set up in Origon Village, I concluded that he had to be hiding in someone’s house.

I turned out to be correct, as when I showed up at Akiyama’s house, Akiyama’s words and expression revealed to me that Migi was indeed here.

After sending Akiyama away to fetch me a drink, I was able to locate Migi in Akiyama’s closet. He was still angry with me, but that didn’t matter right now. I just needed him to come back.

I attempted to force the door open, demanding Migi to come out, but he stubbornly refused to budge. Then, Akiyama’s intervention only left me more frustrated as I felt my chances of recovering Migi slipping away from me. I tried to convey my message to Migi through Akiyama, telling him that I didn’t mean to hurt him, and that I did all this to fulfill our promise to Mother. This was the truth, and at this point I was close to losing control of my own emotions.

Suddenly, Akiyama grabbed hold of me, telling me that I shouldn’t have to live according to my mother’s expectations, that I should let myself be free. Huh? What are you talking about? Don’t act as if you know anything about me… about us! This was something that needed to be done to end the curse that we carried all our lives!

Then, as Akiyama was distracted by his angry sister, Migi suddenly grabbed me and threw me into the closet. Before I could say anything, Migi told me he didn’t care about revenge anymore, and then proceeded to look me in the eyes, telling me that he won’t take orders from me anymore. I was lost for words. This was a complete disaster, as what I feared most came true, yet somehow, I couldn’t stop this from happening. I could do nothing but sit inside Akiyama’s closet, now stewing in the hopelessness from my futile attempts to take back Migi.

Suddenly, Akiyama wanted to go on a bicycle ride and took Migi with him. No. I couldn’t allow this to happen. If I continued to sit and do nothing, Migi would be gone forever. At this point, our secret didn’t matter anymore. I shoved the closet doors open and ran after Migi, but it was too late. I stood outside in horror as they sped away, with Migi shouting out loud that he was free.

Why? How could Migi do this to me? I thought that we understood each other, that we were supposed to be one, that we understood each other and the loneliness we shared.

I’ve always watched over him, protected him, and I remained the “strong older brother” just for him, even holding back my own pain and my own tears. I thought that Migi would be able to understand the sacrifices I had to make for our mission, that he wouldn’t leave me because of the promise we made. But how could he abandon Mother, how could he abandon me when we were so close to breaking the curse over us?

I suppose that in the end, Migi was just a brat who just cared about himself and his own pleasure. He only clung to me for comfort, and now that I’ve hurt him once, he’s ready to discard me like some broken tool. Even though we’re brothers.

I dragged my feet over to Mother’s grave and cursed the heavens for once again for bringing me yet again more misfortune. Before, I had Mother. Before, I had Migi. Now, I had no one.

This was all Eiji’s fault.

If he hadn’t killed Mother, she would still be with us.

If he hadn’t killed Mother, Migi would still be with me.

If he hadn’t killed Mother, my life would not have been filled with suffering.

At Mother’s grave I vowed to her that I would kill Eiji to set things right. To make sure that our suffering wasn’t for nothing.

If Migi wasn’t going to help me, then so be it. I’ll avenge Mother myself. I don’t need Migi anymore. I can’t let Migi drag me down anymore.

This was my duty.

Still, avenging Mother alone as Hitori Sonoyama was easier said than done. Now, I had to do everything Migi and I did in the house by myself, such as eating both our servings of food. It was difficult, but there’s no way I could slip up now. The old couple didn’t need to know about me, and I didn’t need them.

All I had to do was remain the perfect child. That was all I needed to do.

Doing all this felt like hell, and I reflected upon my situation as I vomited again into the toilet. Stupid Migi, why aren’t you here?

No, no. Don’t blame this on Migi. He’s always been this thoughtless and dull. And stop thinking about him, I thought to myself.

Later, I sat in the bath with the old man while stewing in my thoughts. Suddenly, after learning a trick about water pressure, I realized something: perhaps it was better that Migi wasn’t here anymore. Migi was always the incompetent one, always getting into messes that let me worry about him. Without Migi, I no longer had a stupid younger brother to drag me down while carrying out our revenge. All I needed to do was erase Migi’s existence from within me, allowing me to finally fulfill my duty to Mother.

Or so I thought.

When Halloween came, I hatched up the perfect scheme to kill Eiji. He always won the costume contest every year, so I rigged the winner’s throne so that a pumpkin would fall and hit his head once he sat on it. I thought it was quite poetic: just as Mother died after hitting her head because of Eiji, Eiji would die in a similar fashion.

Everything was going well according to plan, and I thought I could finally be rid of Eiji once and for all so that I could end my unhappiness once and for all, that I could finally prove that my life had meaning.

But then, everything went wrong when Eiji refused to sit on the throne. Suddenly, the one to sit on the throne was none other than Migi! I instinctively jumped down from the tree from where I was watching and ran as fast as I could to save him. I was in an utter state of panic.

At this point, our secret didn’t matter anymore, because Migi’s life was in danger! Even though I claimed I could erase Migi from within me, I just couldn’t. There was just no way I could, because Migi was my precious twin brother. These thoughts swirled my mind as Migi’s life flashed before my eyes.

When I heard the sound of the pumpkin being smashed my heart sank, as I thought that I had just killed my brother. Memories of Migi began to flood my mind. Memories of our time living in the Sonoyama house. Memories of us at school together. Memories of Migi… smiling from ear to ear during our date at the aquarium.

I thought that our days in Origon Village were meaningless, that they were simply a means to an end in avenging Mother, but I was dead wrong. In that moment I remembered what my original duty was, what my purpose was. Everything I did was for Migi, and it wasn’t out of some arbitrary obligation, but it was because I loved him. I loved him dearly, and it was his smile that I lived for, and it was the same smile that I trampled over and ruined. I thought that I was doing all this for him, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. A river of tears streamed from my eyes as I finally realized this truth.

I looked up to face what had happened, and to my shock, it was Eiji who was hit by the pumpkin, as if he had just saved Migi.

I stared at Migi, but before I could say, do, or even think anything, Migi turned around and bolted away as Akiyama ran after him. By the time I had recovered from my shock and thought of going after Migi, it was already too late. The crowd was in complete chaos, and I had already lost him.

The Sonoyamas found me in tears, and with worried looks on their faces, they frantically asked me if I was okay.

I couldn’t say a word.

They then took me into their arms as we walked home together, though I couldn’t stop thinking about what had just happened.

Once we arrived home, the old couple put me in bed to let me rest, but there was no way I could get better. Even though it was good that Migi was still alive, I couldn’t bear that I had almost killed him.

Deep down, I knew that Migi just wanted to live a normal life in Origon Village, yet in anger, desperation, and fear, I couldn’t let him have it. Instead, I dragged him around, brought him into danger, and crushed his heart, thinking that he would just get over it. I feared that Migi would drift away from me if he became a part of this town, and yet I made this happen myself with my own foolishness.

What was I thinking?

I thought I was protecting Migi, but all I did was make him cry.

How could I do these things to him?

He was all I had, and yet I pushed him away so cruelly.

It’s all my fault that Migi’s gone now, yet I couldn’t help but want him back as I muttered his name while crying, clutching the remains of the dolphin pendant that he once cherished. It was insufferable, as if I was drowning in an ocean of my own tears and loneliness.

Even if Migi hated me, I still loved him. I don’t care if he was still angry with me, I just wanted him back, to make things right with him, to see his smile again, and I would give anything for that. Without Migi, how could I possibly go on?

#migi and dali #migi to dali #fanfiction #fanfic #wip #chapter 7

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canary0 · 2 years ago

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May 24 - Dracula 2023

Content Warning: mental health treatment, mental hospitals, schizophrenia

Dr. Seward's notes - recorded via phone audio

Reduced appetite, sleep disruptions, and loss of interest in things that I enjoyed before. As a clinician, I know I really shouldn’t try to apply diagnoses to myself – we all observe ourselves with our own self-perception and internal narrative. Still, I can’t think to call this anything but depression over my rejection earlier. Not unusual, so I already know the best distraction for me is work until it passes. Fortunately, my appointment schedule is usually very full – finding enough qualified psychiatrists for the hospital has been a challenge. Probably not a good time to dwell on that.

I have a particular interest in one of my patients with whom I had an appointment today. His situation is unusual, so I’m doing my best to understand him as well as I can. His form of delusion is fairly uncommon, more well documented in the past than now.

I’m realizing that I may have been too intense about it – more interested in putting together a case study that helping him reach a point of being able to live a normal life. Normally I focus on the latter, and I’d avoid keeping them in a steady state like the mouth of hell itself. Omnia Romæ venalia sunt - “Hell has its price,” after all.

But with him having gone untreated as long as he has, it’s also very important to understand how exactly his delusion works and what his specific situation is to develop a medication and treatment plan. So, let me take down what I know at the current time (with permission):

R. M. Renfield, age 59. He’s very outgoing and active, generally with a positive, or at least excitable mindset. He’s very strong, inclined to physical activity. He’s prone to unpredictable periods of depression which tend to end in getting a very fixed idea about something. He takes particularly to causes, it seems like, and is difficult to deter once he decides one is indeed a cause. He went untreated and was cared for privately since his 20s before he was brought in after injuring the pet of someone he knew. He hasn’t had any visitors since he arrived. Lack of connections may make his treatment more difficult. His only serious physical issue at the moment is high blood pressure, which is common for men of his age, so we’re at least going to get him started on amlodipine while we figure out the rest. I’ll speak with the psychopharmacologist, but his age makes me a little concerned about using antipsychotics. We may start one at a low dose and see how he responds. As far as therapy goes, observation hasn’t revealed much in terms of stronger or weaker moments in his delusions, so we may end up having to work within that framework to improve quality of life for now.

Quincey Morris to Arthur Holmwood

Via SMS

Quincey: We’ve told stories by the fire, dressed each other’s wounds, and made toasts on the shores of Titicaca. I think it’s time for more of the former and latter, don’t you think? My campfire has a spot for you, and I happen to know a certain lady is busy with a dinner party tomorrow night, so she’ll be otherwise occupied.

Arthur: Naturally. Count me in every time. Is anyone else coming?

Quincey: Our friend from that time in Korea, Jack Seward. It’s time to drown our sorrows as we toast to the good fortune of the happiest man in the world.

Arthur: You’re not wrong about that.

Quincey: Of course I’m not! And you’ve earned it, along with the best heard in the world.

Arthur: I’ll be sure to be there. Besides, I have some news you’ll both want to here.

Quincey: Excellent! See you then.

(A/N: Although in the book Renfield was observed with schizophrenia from a normal age of onset, I suspect he must have avoided treatment for quite a while under modern care to be in his current state. I’m always hesitant to address severe mental health difficulties in my fiction, because I don’t want to give the impression that I think some ableist shit.

I’m going to be open here to that end and state that any depiction here is going to be informed by my own experience with depression with psychosis and having gone with it largely untreated for a long time. It no longer presents those symptoms for me, thankfully, but I’m empathetic to the experience of having them.

So while Renfield and his treatment is certainly a potentially spicy subject, I’m gonna do my best to present it and his treatment in the best way I can. Seward wasn’t depicted as incompetent for his time (as bad as the methods of his time were), so his modern treatment methods shouldn’t be incompetent. I consulted with a mental health professional about this entry so... hopefully it's okay.

Thank god for Quincey and Arthur also talking today. @_@)

#dracula daily #jack seward #schizophrenia #cw: mental illness #cw: mental health #renfield #dracula 2023 #fanfic #modern retelling #cw: medication

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autumnalwalker · 2 years ago

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Find The Word Tag

Thank you for the tag, @writernopal.

My words to find were lucky, smoking, empty, racing, & stare.

Passing the tag to @hollyannwrites, @blind-the-winds, @void-botanist, @rickie-the-storyteller, @dontjudgemeimawriter, and the usual open tag.

Your words to find shall be acknowledge, upstairs, coarse, darkened, & unison.

Lucky: Empty Names - 13 - Open Office

“So. Loopholes. I don’t know a lot about nominal magic but I’d done a little bit of reading up on it for personal reasons and then tried to refresh myself on the topic when I knew the contracts were going to be a thing. Point is, I signed and swore the magic part of it with my deadname, hoping it would be me enough to let the contract seal but not me enough to be enforceable. Magically anyway. Legally, yeah, I’m still probably in trouble.”

“Clever,” Bridgewood says. “That’s the sort of trick you can only get away with once though. Twice if you’re very lucky. More than that and you risk acknowledging it as a Name of yours once again and you’ll get any bindings you’d been avoiding that way snapping back on you at once.”

“Thanks for the warning?”

“I speak from experience.” His tone seems genuinely sympathetic for once. Lacuna finds it disconcerting.

Smoking: The Archivist's Journal, Day 152

I was awoken by an unusually loud crack of thunder this morning. Earlier than I usually wake, but late enough that I couldn’t really get back to sleep, so here I am. How close must that lightning strike have been that I heard it so clearly in my twice-barred subterranean chamber? I briefly went upstairs and stuck my head out the door to the street, but I didn’t see anything smoking or burning, so it probably didn’t hit a building.

Empty: The Archivist's Journal, Day 311

We made the usual greetings that friends unexpectedly bumping into one another on the street would make, both claimed to be “fine” when asking each other how we were doing, and had a moment of awkward silence as we both contemplated whether to bring up the topic of Maiko. Thankfully, the presence of the dustpan and bucket made for a convenient redirection of conversation.

With the embarrassment of a child caught in the middle of some mischief, I told her about my visits to the empty tower and how on something of a whim I’d decided to try cleaning it. In a spur-of-the-moment decision I invited her to come up with me. I thought she might enjoy the view.

She had a moment of hesitation, citing other things she should be doing, followed by a coarse-languaged dismissal of said responsibilities and acknowledgement that she needed a break. Her immediate transition into heading off toward the tower left me being the one to follow after her.

Racing: The Archivist's Journal, Day 31

It was Lin who gently ended the reverie, wanting to show me something. While we’d been sitting there stargazing and “star”gazing she’d left one arm dangling over the side of the boat and trailing in the water. Now as she pulled it up to show me her fingers had taken on a similar starry glint. It faded back to normal within a few seconds of showing me, and as it did so I could tell that it was not just a matter of being coated in a dark glitter-filled liquid. It was as if her skin itself had darkened to a blue-black and begun glowing with a white light from scattered pores, especially clustered along her veins.

This unsettled me greatly as my mind started racing to think of things that could do that to a person and not coming up with anything good. I apparently did a poor job at hiding my concern as, seeming upset at having accidentally scared me, Lin began frantically reassuring me that it was perfectly safe and people even went swimming in this lake all the time. As if to prove this point she started kicking off her shoes and then jumped off the side of the boat fully clothed, splashing me and setting the small craft rocking. I suppose this was the “just in case” for bringing along a second set of clothes.

Stare: Empty Names - 4- Prince In Gold

“And I see you still insist on wearing that same hideous vest as always,” she continues.

“No, this one’s gold. You’re thinking of the dandelion one. Or maybe the ochre.”

“It’s all the same pattern though, just different shades.”

“And it’s a lovely pattern, isn’t it. I’m considering wallpapering one of the guest bedrooms with it. What do you think?”

His friend laughs. “Only if you want to drive whoever tries sleeping there mad.”

“I’ll take that as your seal of approval then.”

“Don’t you dare,” his friend says, suddenly serious and glaring at him from across the table.

“Oh, I dare,” Sullivan says as he meets her gaze.

The two of them stare in silence for a solid minute before bursting into laughter in near unison. Not that any of the other restaurant patrons can hear. Privacy is part of the service here.

The laughter dies down and Sullivan wipes a nonexistent tear from his eye before saying “It’s truly been too long, my friend.”

#tag game #find the word tag #manuscript search tag #writeblr #my writing #writers on tumblr #writing tag games #empty names #the archivist's journal

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olderjodijournals · 3 months ago

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SATURDAY, OCTOBER 1, 1994

My day had been going just fine but right now, I’m so mad I could scream. I was taping two movies for both of us and what did I do? Fucked up as usual and just like I did earlier when I went to tape something. Why can’t I do the simplest things right? Is something trying to tell me not to watch TV? Should I tell Tom and Andy not to bother to depend on me? Should I quit recording stuff for myself?

Well, there is good news and that’s that my medley’s done. There are 193 songs. None of Gloria, though, as she has her own medley. I’ve got a variety of stuff from dance/pop, country, instrumental, disco, oldies, etc.

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 2, 1994

We now have the AC shut off for the year and now the swamp cooler is on. It feels great and I wish it had this feeling at the peak of the summer. The air’s so fresh and clean and my lungs are great.

Tom trimmed a half-inch off my hair yesterday and every 6 weeks or so we’ll do this.

I went through all my makeup and ditched some old stuff I’d had for ages. I really should get new mascara as I’ve had the one I’m using now for over a year.

We accomplished a lot yesterday. We finally sorted all our mail and papers. I do whatever I want with my mail, but when the mail comes in, Tom tosses what he doesn’t want and I file the rest. We also planted the 5 cactus plants around the pool yesterday morning. They look great.

I was surprised that next door was so quiet. I hear them occasionally when I go out back, but lately I’ve been blessed by the absence of them and across the street. Well, more than lately. They’ve all been quiet for several months. At least I know I have the fan and the music as a weapon against whatever if I need it.

Did I mention that I finished the medley? I’m sure I did, but anyhow, it’s got some parts I could’ve done better, but it’s great for the most part.

Tom said don’t worry about botching up his movie as it’s on a lot. Yeah, I’ve seen it listed quite frequently, but it’s not on this week. He said I should record more stuff to get my confidence back. Well, I haven’t checked to see yet if the two movies I taped came out OK, but I’ll soon see.

Right now I think I’ll go have some coffee, then I’ll write more later. First though, the B drive on the computer’s broken. That’s the drive I used for my journals, so now if I do anything with them I’ll use the C drive. That’s pretty much the main drive. I use it for letters and other stuff.

Later…

Sex for us is getting more frequent which is great and the sex is always great. For me. I’m still confused when it comes to Tom. He sure as hell acts like he likes it and he always gets rock-hard and tells me how sexy I am. I do believe him when he tells me I’m sexy, and not just cuz I want to.

I can’t cum by penetration alone, and I know everyone’s different and that’s fine. It’d also be just fine if he came out and told me he doesn’t want to cum. There are things he knows I don’t want to do. Like go down on him, so that I can understand. Also, I’d understand if he had a physical problem that affected him sexually. The big question still remains. Did he lie to me when he said he came those two times when nothing came out? He says he didn’t cum much anyway, but then why was he worried about messing up my sheets?

I toyed with the idea that he was holding back so as not to get me pregnant, but he couldn’t get me pregnant by cumming in my hand. Then I realized that maybe he felt it’d look funny if he only came in my hand out of not wanting to get me pregnant and I’d think my pussy just wasn’t good enough like my hand would be. Maybe he feels that’d look a little obvious. It really scares me to admit to myself that he could be lying about this. If he is, and I do say if, I hope he’ll someday soon have the heart and the courage to tell me why. Why? I’ve never caught him in a lie before. There’s only one other thing he’s ever said that I doubted. He said he could sleep through sounds if he knew what it was and who.

He slept through them moving in next door, raising holy hell in the front here, but he couldn’t sleep through Kim, Phil, Alex and I? Hmm…

I thought of asking Tammy and Andy for their opinion for a long time, but then I thought that’d be uncool to involve them. Then I realized two things. One is that they wouldn’t get involved and two is that they’d keep my question a secret. I finally broke down and asked Tammy if it was possible for a guy cum “dryly.” Her answer was, “Not to my knowledge is it possible.”

I asked Andy on his machine.

Tammy said Lisa got the letter Tom sent her and was very pleased. For a while there I was wondering if he was really going to write and send it.

Later…

The movies I taped came out OK. I listened to some music and just made myself some coffee. Soon I’ll be conking out. My stomach’s a little better, but I still get waves of pain here and there.

I hope Andy leaves me a message tonight. I told him that if the answer to my question is no to say, “No, I don’t like whatever song by Gloria.” he’ll say “yes,” he likes it if the answer’s no.

MONDAY, OCTOBER 3, 1994

I sure wish I slept later than I did. I got up at 7:30 PM. Andy left a message saying he can’t “decide” if he likes a certain Gloria song, so that means he’s not sure.

Well, they say everyone’s different and that much is true, but I have a feeling things will never change with him. I have a feeling that if we wanted a kid right now or in the future, we won’t be able to even if I’m not sterile cuz he either can’t or won’t let go. I just wish I knew which one it was. If he can’t cum, I’d like him to find out why. If he won’t cum, I wish he’d just come out and say, “Hey, I don’t prefer to cum. All I want to do is get hard.”

At the same time, I believe he is attracted to me, I feel I’m not pleasing to him cuz I’m confused and I don’t know for sure what’s going on. Not knowing is hard, but maybe there’s a third party involved. Whether or not he’s deliberately holding back, maybe whatever’s up there has a major control on this to keep me from getting pregnant. But then again, couldn’t it just sterilize me or make sure he doesn’t cum when I’m ovulating? The more I think about it, the more questions I have and the more confused I get, so I’m just going to keep on going about my life as I have been and try not to dwell on it. If in another year to a year and a half, nothing’s changed, then perhaps I oughta talk to him about seeing what a doctor has to say about it. I don’t know, but I really think it’s me. There’s something about me as a person (not my body) that turns him off. Perhaps it’s my aggressive nature and also fear of being a father too soon. I think he does was to be a dad but in a couple of years. This is what he told me, too. I also have a feeling he may never want to be, so due to this, he’ll keep on holding back.

He can’t keep that up forever, though, so if he’s the one preventing himself from cumming, he’s going to have to deal with it with me someday, as he can’t always make excuses. I can’t always be “new” to him, so if one of my theories is correct, I hope he talks about it.

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 4, 1994

Today's the day I go for my CT scan and hearing test. Hopefully, I'll find out something today, but I'll probably have to wait till the 13th. I'll write about how today's appointment went either later today or tomorrow.

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 5, 1994

I went for my CT scan and hearing test yesterday. There were about 3 different things about it that I didn’t remember from Boston. First she had my head cranked way back and she took 30-40 pictures which seemed to take forever.

When I got on the thing you lay on, it was at the height of a bed. Then, when she went to adjust me for picture number two, I realized I was almost up to the ceiling when I sat up. For the second position, my neck was straight and she put some kind of string or tape across my chin to hold my head still.

Then it was off to another floor for my hearing test. My good ear has worsened a little, but the left is hopeful. There is nerve hearing.

I can’t wait till the 13th.

Later…

Yesterday, after my appointments, we went to JB’s for lunch.

When we got home, I helped Tom build a second computer. It was pretty interesting and fun.

Tom and I both spoke to Tammy who’s really in a bad way now. From the sound of it, Bill may only have a matter of months left. She’s worried about how the hell they’re going to survive and I don’t blame her. We all discussed the possibility of her coming out here, but that’s close to impossible. Especially with 3 kids.

Her visit with Mom wasn’t too great. Even Lisa got upset with her for not staying as long as she said she would. She said Lisa got embarrassed by Mom in some restaurant cuz of the way she went off on some waitress. The bottom line is what it’s always been. She hates kids and will only talk to them about 6 times a year and it’ll probably be another 3 years before both mom and dad go to see her again.

It makes me wonder again if I oughta just cut all contact with them if I ever get pregnant. No kid of mine is going to put up with them if I can help it. Yes, they’ve been wonderful over the phone now for almost a year, but that’d change if I were pregnant, so it’s something to think about should I ever find myself pregnant.

Anyway, I got up at midnight, watched a little TV, made Tom some sandwiches, and crossed off the stuff we got done. I also updated our computer calendar that keeps track of shit we gotta do.

I typed Bob a letter and now Bob, Kim, and my parents have two of those postcards left. I’ll send them over the next couple of weeks.

We’re putting aside money to go to Tammy when she really really needs me the most. That’ll be when Bill dies. Tom will go with me if he can get the time off from work and I hope to hell he can, but if not I’ll go alone.

For the hell of it and out of curiosity, I called Nervous to see if his phone and or the same number still exists with him. He has an answering machine with a prerecorded voice. I just said hi and hung up. I’m glad I discovered he’s got a machine there. God, I wish he had one when he was obsessed with me! I would’ve had sooo much fun with it.

Assuming Crystal’s still there and assuming he’d never dare allow her to hear his edits, which he probably doesn’t have, I’m going to leave a few seconds of them on his machine later. I only hope he hears them, though. I hope if I leave them and they’re both out that he doesn’t come home, get to them first and erase them. Cuz that’s just what he’d do.

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 6, 1994

I used up the last of the address labels with my maiden name, so now I’m going to use the remainder of the cat labels with my married name on them. Then I’ve got lots of Adobe labels left, but they’ll only be used for mail. I’ll draw colorful lines as day separators when the cat labels run out. There are about 25 left.

Yesterday I straightened up the back room quite a bit. I even cleaned off a small area by the washer. There was a paper grocery bag with other ones in it that must’ve been there for years. I dumped those and put away some tools.

I saw a movie with Marlee Matlin in it, and Law & Order.

I typed Tammy a letter and wrote postcards to Bob, Kim and my parents. I dusted and vacuumed and did some typing. I’ve been spelling all kinds of words wrong. Like Israel. I’m learning, though (I spelled “though” as "tho" intentionally in my written journals cuz it's easier). The computer’s been very educational.

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 8, 1994

Things have been great. Today, I not only typed up all my 13 songs with pretty and different fonts, but I also wrote 3 new songs. Before I copy them in, yesterday we got a wedding card from Mary & Dave with a $100 check. Today we got a card from Boo and Max with a $50 check. We have to crank out a couple more thank-you cards.

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 9, 1994

Just as I was going to write, Tom came home from work with groceries and with guess what else? A humongous package of all different kinds of pens. There were highlighters and all different kinds of regular pens. Also, the perfect drawing pencils. The kind you click and the lead moves down, so you don’t have to sharpen it. I have 5 of these kinds that all write in black, but the pen turns colors as your fingers grip them. This one’s purple, but changes to pink where your fingertips are.

Later…

Tom and I had a really cool talk the other day. He assured me that everyone’s different and that if he were feeling sexually deprived and unfulfilled in any way, he’d tell me. He reminded me that things didn’t change with me for a long time at one point. Neither one of us ever thought he’d make it in there. I realize now that I shouldn’t be impatient with him and expect him to cum if he doesn’t want to. Andy says he can’t see how he can be satisfied without being able to or allowing himself to cum. Maybe most people can’t get by without cumming, but everyone’s different and again, I believe him when he tells me he’s happy. I told him I wouldn’t try to change him cuz he’s never tried to change me or expect anything of me that I couldn’t or wouldn’t do. I did comment on how it would prevent us from getting pregnant, but he said it wouldn’t. He sounded very sure of that. He’s just waiting till we’re ready for a kid, I think. That’s cool cuz right now we have two things on our minds. Getting me to hear out of both ears and going into business.

He says he’s planning on releasing our first program for sale on November 1st. The picture-printing program. By December 1st he wants to have me sing and record a song. Every Wednesday or so I fill in stuff on the computer calendar that either one of us or both of us have to do. He suggested this as I’m way more organized.

Later…

Right now Tom is napping on my bed. Luckily this bed is wide enough so I can still stretch out and have plenty of room.

Tomorrow there’s no mail cuz of Columbus Day. Or is it Memorial Day? Whatever. I’ve got letters typed up to my parents, Tammy, Kim, and I’ll do Bob’s soon. I’ll mail them out on Tues., though.

I think I’ve pretty much covered all that’s been going on. So, I guess I’ll go do some computer work right now.

Later…

Boy, Tom’s pretty entertaining to observe when he sleeps. I just walked into the room and he said about 3 words I couldn’t make out, then something that sounded like, “Talking to another.” Then, “OK.” Then, “I can handle it.” Then, “Mhm.”

Now I’m using another one of the color-changing pens. I believe there are 5 of them in all, even though they all write in black as I said before. This one goes from a regular shade of green to lime green. Sort of a yellowish-green where I’m holding the pen.

I did some journal typing, as Tom fixed the B drive. I also cooked up some creamy garlic noodles and some spaghetti.

I took the foam mattress off the waterbed cuz I’m sick of it bunching up on me. I’ll wait till I get a king-size one. I also turned the waterbed heater on. In a week or two we’ll be turning on the wall heaters. I’ll also get my little portable one out of my closet.

MONDAY, OCTOBER 10, 1994

I vacuumed and then mopped the kitchen floor. It really needed it.

I typed up a letter for Bob, as well as the song titles on my medley. The more I hear the medley, the more I don’t like it. Some songs are too long and some have chosen parts I wish I didn’t choose. I’m going to do it again sometime soon and I’ll probably redo Gloria’s medley, too.

I quickly talked to Tammy and I left Andy a message.

It’s gorgeous out today. It’s in the mid-90s and it’s supposed to be that way all week. It’s a bummer, though, cuz the pool’s ice cold.

Kim called last night and still plans to be here in November. She was psyched to hear about my ear, and has a bad cold now.

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 12, 1994

God, I feel so sluggish today. Well, maybe it’s cuz I only slept about 6 hours or so. I’m a little bored, even though I’ve done stuff and have more to do.

These are some of the times when I think a kid would be nice. Last night at the mall, which I’ll get to later, made me glad I have no kid. That and how horrible Tammy and others said it was. Despite it all, though, I’ve written off both me and Tom as sterile, until and unless I see differently. I know he likes things the way they are, but maybe in a year or so I’ll suggest that he see a doctor and make sure nothing’s wrong if he really can’t cum. He might be very embarrassed about seeing a doctor, though. Hey, at least he’ll never have to deal with GYNs.

Yesterday Tom was out all day fixing Eldon’s computer. He also took his parents to the racetrack.

Yesterday his mom also fixed one of my favorite skirts that my dad got me. In 1989, Dad took me to get it at Steiger’s in Longmeadow. The waistband was messed up, but she did a wonderful job fixing it. I called her this morning and thanked her and we got to chatting for about 10 minutes or so. She’s got a great memory too, and asked if I was all psyched for tomorrow. Oh, yeah! And I got up at 8:30 today, so there’ll be no problem sleeping tonight. She said she had a doll my skirt would fit on it’s so small and to call her if I had any questions about making quilts. I also was talking to her about music and journal writing. She asked if we had a budding young author here. Nope. It’s just a hobby I do for fun and if that’s ever to change, I don’t know about it yet.

Tom wants me to go through some books to pick out some things to maybe sell called origami. You make things out of paper, like animals, flowers, castles, etc. There was the one where you do the months if you want to make a calendar. I tried October but I really need thicker paper. Something in between paper and cardboard.

Yesterday I got 2 letters from Bob. One was 6 pages, the other was 1.

Kim called last night while we were at the mall. She was bored, still sick with a cold. It was 31º there last night!

At about 6 PM last night was when we went to the mall. We made a ring payment, and he got a computer book. I got a killer deep purple shirt that’s like a T-shirt, but the shoulders are cut out. It’s quite sexy. I got an Indian-like beaded barrette and 3 chokers. They were on sale for only $3 apiece. I got a big bottle of detangler which my hair really needed, and two bottles of lotion. There’s this really neat place called Potions & Lotions where they mix up the fragrance you choose, how strong you want it and what color you want it. You can also get cheaper refills of any fragrance. I got Nilla Musk in green and Nature Scent in pink.

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 13, 1994

Yes! I’m going to hear out of two ears! I’m so psyched and I have so much to write on the subject. The doctor (Dr. Nielsen) didn’t at all look like I expected. He wasn’t an older, gray-haired guy. He was of middle age. Tom made a good point saying he was old enough to have experience but young enough to have a steady hand.

The first thing he said to me was that if he had to choose from a number of people to do this surgery on, it’d be me. We haven’t gotten a date yet, but they’ll be calling soon. We think and hope it’ll be before the year’s out. Maybe even before Thanksgiving, which is on the 24th.

The CT scan looks really good and he’s going to do the skin graft under my arm. He’s almost positive I’ll be able to hear and the risks are only 3% - 5%. He’s going to go in right where the canal’s supposed to be, then find the bone and follow it till he comes across the facial nerve. That he’ll steer clear away from that, naturally.

He even told us why I was born with no ear. He says that when you’re an embryo, your ear canal forms, then closes, then reforms. Mine never reformed. The inner ear did, but not the outer ear.

The operation should only last 3 hours and I should be able to go home that day. There’s only a 10% chance that I’ll have to stay overnight. There’s a 60% chance I’ll have to have another operation in 6 months to a year. Instead of having bandages all over my head, I’ll only have like a huge cotton ball in that area.

The other reason I’m having this operation is just as important as getting hearing and that’s due to the sensitivity I’ve had. He has two theories about why it’s been so sensitive since around 1988. One’s cuz of lots of skin. Your skin on your hand, for example, sheds and regrows. Same with the inner ear, but there’s no place it can shed. He said this commonly takes years after surgery to slowly build up. His other theory is cuz of nerves being cut due to so many surgeries, they grow nodules on the ends of them, causing pain. This also takes years of slowly building up.

It’ll be here in Phoenix next to the regular doctor’s offices at Good Samaritan Hospital. No having to drive 3 hours in the snow like we would to Boston in the mid-70s. Also, no big bandages that go around most of my head where I look like a mummy. For two weeks after surgery, I’ll have to lay really low, then go back to be sure the skin graft took well and that there are no infections. Speaking of infections, he says there could be and could’ve been a low-grade infection going on for quite a while. It made us wonder about that cuz almost all my medical reports tell me I have a high white blood cell count. Surely there are plenty of smokers who don’t get all the infections I did. Especially back east. Plus, I do get dizzy, sluggish, and feverish feeling. Not a lot but enough of the time.

He will have to shave just a really tiny amount of my hair by the frame. That’s OK. They did that in Boston and it was no big deal and didn’t look funny. Not with all this long thick hair.

While I’m so flattered and honored to have Tom be so excited too, it really makes me hate the government even more. Cuz I was on Medicaid and Medicare, and if it were infected, it could’ve eventually killed me as doctors of low-income people could really care less for the most part. Dr. Nielsen said it will no doubt get worse, too.

When we came home, I called my parents who were very happy for me.

Tammy’s really pissed and depressed now, so I typed her a letter so she can read it at her own leisure. I also typed to Mom and Dad and Kim and Bob.

Tom called his mom, as well as Mary. I left Andy a message, but I haven’t heard from him for several days now, so who knows what he’s been up to? I do have more to write about, but it’s been a long day and I’m exhausted.

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 14, 1994

Last night I couldn’t fall asleep till around 3 AM. I was just so psyched up cuz of yesterday. I talked to Andy today who was so happy that I was going to “see” out of two ears.

He’s just been hanging out doing his own thing. He’s been feeling bored, lonely and hopeless. Tonight we may get together and go to Camelback Mountain. This way I can help motivate him and for old traditional time’s sake, it’ll be fun. We haven’t done this since shortly after I got here in ‘92. He’ll sit outside on the trunk probably, and do an “interview,” while I’ll be in the car doing my thing.

I think I remembered to write all there is to tell about my ear surgery.

Last night Tom and I were on my bed trying out different positions when I suddenly had a weird feeling come over me. One that felt there was a chance one could get away, if you know what I mean, and get me pregnant. I don’t know why. I know the chances are possible, but I think they’d be extremely low cuz I’m a DES daughter and he doesn’t cum. So then he said, “I thought that’s what you wanted.”

Well, it is. I just didn’t think he was ready cuz it’s not ‘96, we’re going into business, I’m having surgery, and I didn’t want to push him. He said he’s always known the possibility is there, he’s not worried and I can’t control him. I wasn’t trying to control him, but now I know not to worry if I do or don’t get any weird feelings. Plus, since I’ve been here, I’ve gone from an 80% accuracy to a 5% accuracy on the so-called things I feel.

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 16, 1994

Last Friday night Andy and I were out from 10 PM-midnight. Tom gave me $9 and we stopped at Circle K and got munchies. We went right to the same spot as we did in the summer of ‘92. That area and Camelback Mountain are really awesome. I saw the praying monk again in the mountain as well as the upside-down face.

At one point I said to Andy, “I wonder if one of these houses could belong to the doctor who’s going to do my ear soon?”

I hope his office calls tomorrow for an appointment.

Mary gave us a sewing machine and Marjorie’s going to help us with it.

Tomorrow I have letters to go out to Tammy, Mom and Dad, Kim and Bob. I’m sure I’ll hear from Bob tomorrow.

Yesterday we had some great sex. There’s no pain or pressure at all and I almost came. I cum almost every time he goes down there, but I have yet to cum by him in there. I’m getting closer, so now I can really see and understand where he’s “cumming” from on this issue.

Yesterday I finished typing up 15, so now I’ve got a total of 28 journals typed up. They all total 200 pages. That’s so few pages for so many journals, huh?

Later…

I took out my portable heater, and it does a good job of taking the chill out of the air. It’s cool and raining right now. Now’s the worst time in AZ for people with allergies and asthma. I’ve had a few sneezing spells, but it’s not even close to the misery I suffered back east. Soon the plants with lots of pollen will be going dormant.

I could redo my medley now, but I don’t really feel like it, so I guess I’ll go type up more of #17. That’s the one I’m currently typing. Later!

MONDAY, OCTOBER 17, 1994

Well, well, well. Life’s still full of surprises. Instead of sending me a photocopy of the article, Minnie typed it up on her computer. I didn’t even think she had a computer, but ours is nicer. She doesn’t have any fancy fonts, but that’s OK. By hand, she wrote me a letter. She has nice handwriting, too. I copied it into 75.

Tom was laughing at how she said she’d send me a picture of her at her prom as if we were old buddies. He said he hopes I write back. I did right after I read her letter and the article.

Then, she called and I told her that at first I honestly thought she was full of it. I told that to Bob too, so I’ll have to tell him how I thought wrong. She says she’s sending Kim a copy, too. She’ll appreciate that.

This evening I used old sheets, foam, etc., to make a regular size pillow for the living room. It serves two purposes. One, for it you’re lying on the couch watching the tube. The other’s for Tom to kneel on when we’re doing it on the couch.

I also made him an eyeglass case. He wears his glasses while he’s cleaning out his contacts. I used a white sheet for this, then drew on it an “I Luv U” heart as well as a teddy bear.

Got the Bob article. One thing I can say is that I felt the same way reading it as I did when I read about myself in the paper when I got in trouble in S. Deadfield. A good 95% of it was bullshit.

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 18, 1994

Now to comment on Bob’s article. Well, it’s still all too hard to believe as it would be if it were about Tom, my parents, or my sister. He couldn’t bar anyone from coming or leaving anywhere. The man’s a total wimp. The only thing I buy is his allowing these girls alcohol. A troubled teen is likely to beg for that and he’s a sucker who can’t put his foot down. The porno movies are a maybe. If a girl begged to see it that saw it lying around, then yeah, I can see him giving in. As for dying his hair. He just doesn’t have so much extra money or the know-how enough to do so. Also, he’s sent regular pictures of himself all the while I’ve been here as his hair grew longer and longer and it was always gray. Too soon for him to have cut off all the dye and regrown his hair. He sent a picture from prison a few months ago with it quite long and gray.

If someone says to a person, “Get alcohol, then pay for it,” it seems to me the person could say, “No, I won’t,” and walk away. That 16 and 17-year-old girl they mentioned was Minnie, according to what she herself told me, and she was actually 18 at the time.

Lastly, it’s ridiculous to not let him own a car cuz a real rapist will try to round up his victims anyway, anyhow, and anywhere he can.

Later…

I forgot to mention one other thing I sewed together. A magazine rack for Tom when he’s in the bathroom taking a dump.

Last night I began doing something on the computer. A subject index of each journal. I was going to do this a while back but didn’t. Well, it’ll take forever, no doubt, but that’s OK. There’s no hurry.

Later…

For the sake of curiosity, I made a list of the states I’ve been to and flown over.

I’ve flown over: New Mexico, Colorado, Oklahoma, Indiana, and Kansas.

I’ve been to: Massachusetts, Connecticut, Pennsylvania, Vermont, Maine, New Jersey, Mississippi, New Hampshire, New York, Maryland, W. Virginia, Tennessee, Rhode Island, Louisiana, Missouri, Ohio, Texas, Arizona, Nevada, Illinois, Florida, Georgia, Alabama, Arkansas, Virginia, Delaware, Kentucky, S. Carolina, N. Carolina.

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 19, 1994

I wish it’d hurry up and be 8 AM! They left a message today while Tom was out with his parents at the racetrack and I was asleep, for me to call to schedule surgery. I hope to hell it’ll be real soon. I’m anxious and can’t wait to get this over with.

Tom said after surgery we’ll discuss quitting smoking, singing, and having a kid. He’s funny at times, cuz the other day I got that so-called feeling which may very well have meant nothing, he said, “Well, I thought that’s what you wanted,” yet now we have to discuss it? Well, I do understand cuz I’m like that a lot, too. I asked what there was to discuss about it and he said, “How, when, and the details.” Well, I can answer the how. If my DES or fate hasn’t sterilized me, he sticks it in there and lets himself cum.

He still feels if I was pregnant my parents would be very happy. I feel they’d be pissed and try to lecture me, but you just never know. They’ve been known to surprise me a few times in the past.

His mom gave me a quilt today. It’s just my size too, made to cover my height.

Andy and that girl Karson left a message earlier which I’ll tape for editing. I haven’t been in the mood yet to edit or redo my medley.

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 20, 1994

Today’s been a very dull day. I called to schedule my surgery, but Jackie, the only one who schedules surgery wasn’t there. I have to call back tomorrow at 10:00.

I meant to say yesterday was a dull day. Especially cuz I slept through most of it.

Today I got 2 letters from Bob and 1 from Alex. I hope Kim got her copy of the article from Minnie, as I just sent mine to Bob. He asked for it cuz he hasn’t seen it. He’s going to be pretty pissed. If not, she’ll be here soon, so I’ll let her read the article I copied.

I finished filling up the pages that were available in 75 with letters, so now I’ll fill the remaining 60 pages or so in #7. After that, they’ll go in a box. It’s the box that the CD/tape/radio boom box came in that’s in the back room right by the computer.

Later…

I did a few things during the night. I did dishes, typed letters, typed more of #17, and drew a full-page picture of a lady’s face. It’s only so-so.

Tom showed me a new game called Nibbles, which I call Nipples. It’s where you drive this snake, that’s really a colored line, with the arrow keys and try to get it to eat as many numbers as possible without it crashing into the sides of the screen.

I wish it were 10:00 in the morning!

Tom mentioned us playing Cruel card game when he gets up and also us having some fun. I hear him snoring. Fine from another room, but thankfully not next to me. Yes, I wish we could sleep together, but then again, no I do not cuz it’d never work out. Perhaps someone on Navane or another heavy sleeper such as he is, but not me.

My surgery’s set for December 6th and the day before I’ll have a pre-op appointment. At first I was really bummed as

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 21, 1994

Andy called, so I’d gotten cut off in my last entry. Then I watched a little TV, fried chicken, and did dishes.

As I was saying, I was rather bummed that I couldn’t have surgery in Nov. However, Tom reassured me that this would be good cuz work will be slower for him in December, and starting this Saturday, we can lay down some tracks to record My Time Has Come, my signature song, so to speak. It’s just amazing how I’ve got someone here with whom I can combine my dreams. He’s got what I want which is the background/behind-the-scenes know-how. I got what he wants which is a way to promote his programs. All this combined gives us what we want. To do what we both love to do while earning great money. We’re hoping to have the equipment, make the master CD, make tons of copies, and distribute them by early ‘95.

He also mentioned me maybe getting pregnant in early ‘95, too. He said it’s better not to now, due to the surgery, of course, but that if I were, it wouldn’t hurt it as I’d only be in the 1st trimester. True, but I’ll definitely have my period around the 26th when I’m due for it. My boobs aren’t sore, I haven’t had any pre-cramps, but I am slightly watery. I took a water pill earlier.

It took 511 minutes to type journal 17. Wow! That’s only about 8½ hours.

Minnie called at 7:00 last night, but I was still asleep. Tom answered, but she didn’t leave a message.

Tomorrow night Andy and I may go to the mountain.

He’s pretty bummed lately, but hopeful. His ad in the Echo magazine should be out anytime now and he really wants to meet someone bad. He wishes to hell he could have someone like Tom and be like me where he doesn’t have to work or worry about food or money. Or health benefits, as he doesn’t have any.

Monday after 11 AM, I have to call Jackie to get the times I’m supposed to go for my pre-op and surgery. Also, to get a date and time for a follow-up. First she had to give me the dates the doctor was available, then check things out with the hospital. Those dates are OK with the doctor and the hospital, but now we have to get the times. She said they usually like to schedule surgery at 7 AM and have their patients arrive there at about 6 AM.

I called Tammy and let her know, then I called my parents. They weren’t home, so I left a message.

Later…

Last night I began redoing my medley. I like this one a lot better. I’m making sure I keep the songs much shorter. I don’t feel like doing any more editing now of any kind, but perhaps I’ll work on my subindex.

It’s kind of awkward to hold the book on my lap while I type in notes, and the book’s too heavy and big for the music stand. Therefore, I’ll put it against the headboard and do it here in bed where it’s more comfortable. I’ll write my notes in here which probably won’t make much sense till it’s all typed up. Actually, I’m only typing notes. I intend to write to them all in their own journal. It’d be neat to have a journal that’s an index, listing all the important topics that are in each journal. However, I may wish to look up and trace down something of non-importance, too. Well, I’ll do my best. I’m going to refer to my typed-up journals. It’s a lot easier to have a notebook (3-ring), spread out, rather than several journals.

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 23, 1994

Tom got up a little while ago, and in an hour or so he’ll be off to work.

He went down on me which I really needed. I’m so horny before my period.

I made us pork chops and tater tots.

Yesterday we laid down the tracks for My Time Has Come. It’s so awesome to be able to walk up to a computer, hit a button and it’ll play the music to my song.

I also did quite a bit of work on my journal subject index (subindex). I’m up to 14 and am using book #81 for it. I’ve got 20 pages done already. Soon I’ll work more on it.

Later…

Tom’s in the shower now.

I forgot to mention another sexual first. At least I think I forgot to. We were lying in bed when he got on top of me and was able to go right in without even guiding it in.

He says sometimes he feels it’d be nice to have a kid in 9 months to 2 years from now. I sometimes feel it’d be nice to have it now, in a few years, and even never.

MONDAY, OCTOBER 24, 1994

NOTE: I identify as bisexual and Andy identifies as gay. Making private cracks about Margaret's appearance had nothing to do with homophobia.

Tom couldn’t sleep, so he just got up a little while ago.

What I went to do earlier was sort the tools. I did about an hour’s worth of sorting and rearranging. I made this week’s lunches for Tom too, and talked with Andy.

He called me up in a so-so mood, but I sure as hell got him laughing his ass off. He was telling me how he got a call from a guy who read his ad and the guy claimed to be straight looking. The second Andy saw the guy, he thought, “Yeah, right. Who the hell ever told this guy he looked straight?!”

I told him how he may have to go through shit like that for a while. Guys will say they look straight and people will give bogus phone numbers.

What really cracked him up was when I told him about that butch Margaret who came up for one night from Westerly, RI. I first talked to her through the 900#.

I told Andy not to be too nice, and to play the same game as everyone else played. Be blunt and don’t give a shit if anyone mistakes your honesty for rudeness.

So anyway, I was telling him how when I was talking to Margaret she said, “My sister’s so feminine. She’s got all kinds of makeup and perfume and jewelry on her dresser in her room. All I have on my dresser is a bottle of deodorant.”

That’s when the buzzer went off and I said, “Wait a minute, I smell butch here.”

He was totally laughing his ass off over that one.

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 25, 1994

Yesterday I fell asleep at 4 PM. At 8 PM, I woke up sneezing my ass off for a few minutes. Thank God I fell back asleep till 3 AM, cuz at 10 AM we are going to Castles & Coasters to play miniature golf. I can’t wait. I love miniature golf, that place is gorgeous and we’re overdue for doing something fun.

I also laid out in the sun yesterday for a whole hour just to get no color.

Got the times of all my appointments, too. On 12/5 I forgot my pre-op appointment at 9:30 AM. On 12/6 I have the surgery at 7:30 AM, but we have to be there at 6 AM. On 12/20 I go for my post-op appointment.

Just 15 more days till Kim arrives. I’m psyched but so nervous about it. Please, God, don’t let this cause a major fight between Tom and me!

I’m doing a few loads of laundry now and soon I’m going to make calendars for ‘95 on the computer.

A couple of nights ago when I was talking to Andy, he gave me his sister Marla’s number in CA in case of an emergency. He also tells me for example, “The guy’s message I’m seeing tonight is the third message, just in case of any trouble, cuz you never know.”

For the sake of curiosity, I called Springfield Information to see if I could get Nervous’s new address. Sure enough, he’s at Avon Place. That’s on the south end/downtown line. It’s a scummy area, but slightly better than Pearl St. He and Crystal probably got a 1-bedroom apartment I’ll bet it’s $500 or more. If one of them splits, the other’s going to have a hell of a time paying all the expenses on their own.

I don’t know if I forgot to mention this, or not, but about a week ago I called and played a clip of the edits. I was intending to leave it on their machine which they do have, but she answered. She listened to the whole thing, but that was great cuz it was her that I wanted to hear it. That was her first time ever hearing the edits, I believe.

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 26, 1994

We went to play miniature golf yesterday. It was lots of fun. Just as beautiful as I remembered, and it was peacefully dead. We also played some games in the arcade and Tom won me a stuffed Harley Davidson dog.

When we got home yesterday, I got a Bob letter and talked to Andy. At first he got tons of calls from guys who were mainly losers and now the calls are dwindling. Yup, that’s how it usually works.

I made 3 calendars on the computer for 1995. A copy in each bedroom and one for the back room.

Yesterday we began making a new period chart, but we ran into trouble. We’ll get it done soon, though.

Tom went over to work on David and Evie’s computer.

This morning before work we had some fun. We tried it with me on top again. That’s getting so much easier now too, and I require less and less lubrication. It’s been a while now since I’ve felt sexually deprived and I don’t miss that at all. It’s a good feeling to feel sexually fulfilled.

I was due today for my period, but it looks like this month I’ll be a day late like last month. I can feel it coming on. Well, sort of. My pre-cramps aren’t that bad at all, but the way my boobs feel is another thing. Those don’t feel too bad either, but I’ll be waking up with it tomorrow.

I typed letters to Tammy and my parents and now I’m going to go eat, then maybe work some more on my subindex.

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 27, 1994

Happy 7th year anniversary to these journals!

This is day two of being late with my period. I called Tammy and told her how I felt like I was going to get it and she said she felt like she was going to get her period too, before she got pregnant. I told her I didn’t want to jump the gun, but that if I did ever find out I was pregnant for sure, I wouldn’t tell Mom and Dad. She said that’d be stupid and that I didn’t have to take any shit from them if they gave us any. Of course, we wouldn’t. She suggested I get an over-the-counter pregnancy test which you can use as soon as you’re only 1 day late. She said she had bad morning sickness with Lisa and it was mild with Becky and Sarah. I forgot the name of it, but she said she has something that numbed her downstairs and they made an incision. Yeah, I’ve heard of that. She didn’t have the shot they give you in the spine. She said it hurts but is worth it.

Again I reminded her that he doesn’t cum and asked her if the chances of me getting pregnant were close to none. She said no. Even though my periods have been normal for quite some time, my body’s entitled to some imperfection, so I may not be. If I am, then that’s just truly amazing for it to be that easy to conceive without the guy cumming. Especially being a DES daughter and thank fucking God I didn’t get pregnant those few other times when guys came. If I am, I believe Tom when he says he’d be as happy as I’d be, but I still have my usual fears and a million questions. Will I have a miscarriage or die having it, if I can have it naturally? Will it ruin what Tom and I have? Can we really afford it? How will my parents react? Will I truly be able to be a good mother and deal with it? Will I be forever fat and a major turn-off to Tom? He’s always been there and true to his word when he said he’d be a good husband. I know he’d be a good father, but what if deep down inside he doesn’t want to have a kid, even though he says he does? What if he’s wrong about saying it won’t ruin us, I can handle it, I won’t turn him off, I will survive it and I won’t be forever fat?

Well, this is only my second day of missing my period, so we’ll wait and see. Thankfully, Tammy was encouraging. She didn’t say shit like, “Why now? Are you sure you want this and are prepared to handle it? What about your surgery?”

Tom says surgery should be no problem in the 1st trimester, but if I have to postpone it, I will. I’ve already been like this for 29 years. If I am pregnant, I will surely want to keep it. It’d be hard to consider abortion even if Tom got on his knees and begged me to, but I know he’d never do that. He’s never fooled me yet, but I know some people can suddenly fool you. I hope he’s happy if I am, though I still have a feeling a kid was never meant to be.

Last night I told Tom I was excited, yet nervous about Kim’s visit and he said he could understand that. Should I cancel her from coming here if I am, so we don’t end up in a fight where he wants to leave me?

Later…

No, I am not pregnant. I just had some spotting. Tammy said she didn’t have that and doesn’t know if it’s possible. Well, like I said, it’s possible for someone to get pregnant if the guy doesn’t cum, but I think it’s very unlikely. Plus, we don’t qualify to be parents. We’re not druggies or assholes. The ironic thing if it was, though, when I was wondering was what Bob said in his letter. He said, “It won’t be long now, will it? Do I know something you don’t? Maybe I do. Who knows?”

I have only a few more pages to type up of Journal #18, but my disk might be screwed up. Tom said not to worry and that all he’d have to do is give me a new disk. Meanwhile, I typed up some tips for him on Windows & DOS from a magazine he wanted to be typed up.

When I read back on Maliheh, I couldn’t believe how vague and shitty a writer I was. I failed to write how she asked me to dance with her the second we met, and she shook my hand. And also, how she kissed me as I was leaving.

Later…

Well, I just got to see another 18-year-old violent, doped-up pregnant girl on a talk show. Now I’ll go continue with Tom’s tip list. I also made up what we call a master copy grocery list.

Got a letter from Kim and typed a reply back. Out of those 50 tips, I have 15 done. Later or tomorrow I’ll type to Bob.

I still have a spot here and there, so I’m 100% sure that tomorrow I’ll have my period full force.

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 28, 1994

Today my period hit full blast. I think it was the water pills that delayed it those couple of days.

Last night Tom set the computer to capitalize the first letter of each sentence. This makes it quicker and easier to use different fonts. He still needs to set it to cap after a question mark and an exclamation mark, and the beginnings of paragraphs. This way all I have to cap are the i’s and names of people and places. When I go to use the spell check, it corrects i’m into I’m and i’ll into I’ll and stuff like that. He says there’s a way to set the paragraphs. I’ll have to have him show me that and also how to print out envelopes.

Got a Bob letter today and now I’m going to go see if I can get ahold of Kim.

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 30, 1994

Yesterday we went out and I got Gloria’s oldies CD. Most of the songs on it I never really liked, but her singing was good and the picture of her on the cover’s nice. Her hair’s growing out again and it’s straighter. I’ve heard all the songs that are on it. I mean, I at least knew of all the songs. There are a couple of upbeat disco ones that I like. Tom likes most of the ones I don’t.

I finished Tom’s 50 tips in Windows & DOS, saved it and printed it out. He oughta be quite happy with it.

Last night I tried to print pictures with the new color ribbon and there’s a problem with the 8” and up pictures. I also learned how to change ribbons. When you stick a color ribbon in the printer, you have to tell the printer there’s a color ribbon in it. All you do is hit two buttons. One says “install” and the other says “color ribbon.”

Hang on and let me go get a smoke. Then, I’ll tell you about Andy and our (Tom & I) talk to my parents.

Later…

Back again. I stopped also to sew the strap on my red lace and chiffon and satin nightie. Also, a white lace pair of panties. Very hard to sew.

Gosh, my handwriting’s a nightmare today.

Anyway, Andy quit Denny’s. He just got fed up with his bitch manager named Linda. So fed up, that this was the first time he quit a job before finding another. Later, I’ll call him to see if he found another one. He was going through today’s paper when we talked earlier.

Yesterday my parents called and Tom answered. My mom started off by saying, “Hi Tom. Do you know who this is?”

Tom guessed Andy and could only pick up on the definite Eastern accent and Ma said something like, “I hope not.”

Tom explained how Andy sometimes disguises his voice. After, Tom said he hoped no one was offended but I’m sure she was cracking up over it.

So they talked about Tom’s job and the main reason they were calling was cuz I said in my letter that I may not be able to call them on the day of my surgery. I guess I forgot to say that Tom will call for me if I can’t. Tom’s going to call them from the hospital during surgery. I had thought one of us would call from here after surgery, but that’s cool.

When Mom asked me if I was learning to cook, Tom jokingly said I was learning how to watch him. Then I told her how I always make his lunch for work and we take turns cooking here. She knows we mainly do microwave stuff and don’t cook every day. Then Ma said Dad doesn’t like her to cook for him every day and I said that’s cuz she burns everything. Dad agreed. Dad said Gloria was there cooking and that she was a lousy cook.

Later…

I just talked to Tammy who wants me to ask Tom if we can copy any games and put Windows on her computer somehow.

Tom’s home now and we’re going to play around in a few. He got our other monitor back from Eldon and soon I’ll have a computer in my room. He really loved how I typed up those tips. They’re fancy, yet very professional looking.

I made him this week’s lunch sandwiches and stuck them in the freezer.

We’re going to send Tammy and Bill and the girls’ computer games, but first I’ll have to call Tammy to see what kind of processor, monitor, etc. she has.

I still haven’t called Andy, but I will later. I still have to tell him how Tom thought mom was him.

This Wednesday we’re going to the Arizona state fair. Can’t wait. The day before he’s going to go to the racetrack to hopefully win money so we’ll have more to take to the fair with us.

MONDAY, OCTOBER 31, 1994

So far we’ve had 3 trick or treaters. I’ve been giving them Reese’s and Milky Ways.

Larry called a little while ago and we had a nice chat. I even talked to Sandy. They’re both happy I’m happy.

He’s no longer driving so he can spend more time with the family. He’s driving a gasoline truck locally. He said one of these days they’ll all get out here, Sandy’s never been here and that when we come to visit we can stay with them. He says he misses his little sister.

We each told each other a joke and when I asked what Larry and Jenny were dressing up as he said “assholes.” Then he told me she was a cat. They’ve had over 150 kids. Wow!

I brought up the pie incident that happened years ago where Larry dropped a whole pie all over the living room carpet. Sandy wasn’t too happy, but Larry, the kids, and I were cracking up. He said they were just talking about that a few days ago.

Now that he’ll be home, I wonder if he’ll go see Tammy.

Andy went to 6 restaurants today but had no luck so far. He has another interview tonight at 8:00, so hopefully, he’ll luck out.

After I fill up tons of no-postage-necessary envelopes, I’ll give them to him to mail out since we live in a house and they can be easily traced to us.

I did a hell of a lot around the house today. I vacuumed, dusted, rearranged, cleaned the kitchen, worked out, and am really making a point to smoke outside.

When Tom came home we made dinner. He barbecued steak and I fried hash browns.

Tomorrow I might go to the racetrack with him and his parents.

I learned a few new things on the computer, but I’ll explain it later. Now that we got the other monitor back from Eldon, he’s going to put together that second computer.

I just wrote down some questions to ask Tammy so we can send games. Tomorrow I’ll mail out Bill’s birthday card so he’ll have it by the 8th.

Later…

Well, we’ve had way more than 4 trick or treaters now. More like 20-30. We only have 9 candy bars left, so after 1 more ring of the doorbell, I’ll shut the light off, hook the screen, and whatever’s left over will be ours.

I’m recording a movie right now and sitting in the living room so I can hear the door. I just hooked the screen and turned the outside light off, speaking of it, as 3 more kids came. We’ve got 6 candy bars left for us and we turned the living room and kitchen lights off, as Tom’s in the back room and I’m in my room. Even though my room is at the front of the house, they’ll never notice it as I’ve got those soundproofing things up along with tin foil behind it.

I don’t know if I’ll be continuing on with my subindex in #81. Maybe I’ll work on that later.

Tom showed me how to search for certain words in a document. When doing my journals, I can cap anything after a question mark or an exclamation mark but not the first letter of a word that begins a paragraph. However, if they’re names I use, I don’t need to bother to cap it cuz I’m going to cap all the names afterward anyhow. That’s another thing I learned. I can take all the Tammys or Andys and cap them all. The only other thing I don’t need to cap that begin paragraphs are words like, I’ll, I’m, I’d, cuz the spell check will tell me to cap those anyway.

Later…

There are still some trick-or-treaters out as I can hear dogs. The blessing of it is, though, that they’re off in the distance. Inside the house it’s quiet, the dog next door’s not out and there are no dogs across the street right in front of us.

I’m still debating on whether or not to do the rest of the subindex. It’d be nice to have but not worth the pain of doing it. Anyway, I’ve got through the rest of this book and the next to decide if I want to continue it. I highly doubt I will, though. I’ll at least have the worst parts of my life done in the subindex. All the Springfield, S. Deerfield and Norwich books. In other words, all the MA and CT books.

I also hooked up an old phone of mine that I believe I had on Oswego St. The living room speakerphone had a dual-jack connector, so I hooked it up so there are two phones in the living room till Tom goes into the attic and runs the phone, audio and video wires. This way we can both talk to my parents, Tammy, Andy or whoever.

I jokingly asked Tom if he thought Larry was Andy and he said he thought it was Fran for a second. Yeah, I can see how he might have thought Larry was Fran. They both have deep voices.

There sure are a lot of helicopters out there. One was shining its light down, so they could’ve been looking for someone.

0 notes

4lunar-kitsune4 · 10 months ago

Text

Idk what this is

I felt my body begin to weaken as I straightened myself and looked her directly in her eyes, holding out my palm.

“Would you entertain one last dance with me, my sweet Rosalyne?”

My breathing was slow and steady, confidence overflowing me despite the circumstances. I would not let her know how weak I truly was.

Her eyes betrayed no emotion, her blade hanging loosely in her hand. The freshly spewn blood on its otherwise clean and pristine surface seemed to reflect brightly underneath the bright ballroom lights. She was a paragon of calmness that stood before me.

The blade clattered to the floor as she stepped closer, accepting my inviting hand. She paid it no mind, her eyes focusing solely on me, seemingly analytical.

I pulled her closer and soon we fell into a familiar pattern, our steps in sync, the silence heavy. Usually she’d always have this sort of… serene grace about her, a faint smile, a hint of amusement in her eyes. She’d look at me, a mix of quiet happiness and… something else. I’d never been able to put my finger on it. But now, all of the warmth she exuded was gone, replaced by a strange sense of unfamiliarity. The silence that was once comfortable and welcoming felt cold and distant. Yet she still danced with me, like we had done countless times before.

The room seemed to sway underneath my feet and the lights seemed almost too bright. The slightest touch of her dress felt foreign and prickly against my skin. I felt as if in a trance, as if nothing were real. I felt slightly numb all over, the only thing stopping me from falling completely into this dreamlike state being her hands.

Her soft hands. Her soft and perfect hands. Those hands could do no wrong, I was sure of it. If you told me those hands had ravaged entire nations I would never believe you. I had the utmost reverence for those hands… not just her hands I would say…

Our dance continued, and my dreamlike state along with it. I tried to stay in the moment but oh! How hard it was. I felt as if I could be lulled to sleep during this dance and I would be content. But I had to remain strong, I wouldn’t dare show a moment of weakness in front of her.

And so even though I felt as if it was all too much I continued with the dance I proposed to her, my feet and breath falsely steady. My eyes never left her, searching her face for any hint of emotion.

There was none.

Her face was truly a blank and neutral slate, her eyes watching me as well.

I felt oddly vulnerable underneath her gaze, like I was baring my soul to her. She could see everything and was all-knowing.

But I knew that wasn’t true. Just… being in her presence made me feel odd things.

We floated through the ballroom and I could feel my breathing beginning to shallow, my steps becoming more and more unsteady as time inched forward. But I couldn’t- no I wouldn’t, show weakness in front of her… I would… I would keep going on steady, I had no intention of letting this wondrous dream end-

I collapsed.

My knees weakened and I collapsed onto her. I clutched her with the strength of a new-born kitten, inhaling shaky breaths. She said nothing as this transpired, merely watching with that emotionless gaze. I was shaking slightly and the world seemed more intense than it did earlier…

After an agonizing few moments I still felt extremely weak but I feigned that I was strong enough to push away when-

She took me in her arms and held me. I looked up in her eyes and felt lost in them… she was so… perfect. My pain and suffering and everything was meaningless compared to this moment, I never wanted it to end. I felt as if I was a deer caught in the headlights, I couldn’t quite place my finger on what I felt at that moment.

Her eyes softened. To the outside observed she looked cruel and uncaring as I bled out in her arms, my bright red blood staining her lovely white dress. But to me… she looked ethereal, an angel looking down upon a tragedy.

She brought me closer and hugged me, the blood staining even more. For once she didn’t seem to care about cleanliness.

My breathing was now only coming every few seconds, quite ragged. If I was standing I would have surely collapsed once more.

She lowered us both downwards towards the floor until she was sitting upon it, her dress spreading out around her, and me in her arms like a fragile doll. I shakily took a blood-stained hand and put on her face, my expression remorseful.

“I’m… so sorry my sweet… I hope you can forgive me..”

Her expression was unreadable once more, and she watched me.

“Won’t you… say something for me?”

She looked slightly remorseful but still she kept her lips sealed… those lovely lips of her…

Finally, finally, I felt my strength fading away as the lights seemed to dim around me, my vision darkening… I looked up at her one last time… debating what I would say… what would my final words to her… her… be…

My eyelids felt heavy. Surely a short rest wouldn’t hurt… right?

THIS IS LOWKEY CRINGE LMAO IDK WHY I WROTE THIS

#writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr

0 notes

thomashoes · 2 years ago

Text

Thinking about.... JeanLuc

One of the few straight ships that actually makes me cry bc of the angst around them. I've been thinking about them since yesterday but I couldn't write it down cuz i fell asleep lol. Enjoy~

Modern AU

Straight ship (if you dont like, scroll pass, tnx <3)

JeanLuc

kinda longer than my usual cuz i cant control myself

probably has typos and grammatical errors since i didnt check--

Jean and Diluc are coworkers (Jean as CEO and Diluc as her PA). Diluc was supposed to be CEO but he refused the offer when his father, Crepus died and his brother, Kaeya went MIA. Everyone thought that they did not get along well since Diluc speaks bluntly and is often misinterpreted as rude while Jean, although she’s strict, has a more gentle aura around her. Both of them are pretty much the talk of the town (office??) since they are both good looking. Jean’s toned body (thanks to pilates) and Diluc’s buff structure and "mysterious" background that makes every woman (and some men) in the office swoon.

EVERYONE talks about wanting to either sleep with them or date them, there's no in between. But what the office doesn't know is that they're married and have been for 5 years. Only their close friends and family knew of their union. They didn't wear their wedding rings because it was 2 sizes small (thanks to their musician friend) so instead they wore it around their necks. Also, Jean just kept her maiden name and Diluc, although he did try to talk her out of the idea, accepted her decision.

However, one day Jean overheard Donna say that she will ask Diluc out again during the end of the year ball. Normally Jean wouldn't be surprised by this but this was DONNA and that woman keeps on bugging her husband despite him politely rejecting her multiple times.

This caused Jean to be out of it which did not go unnoticed by Diluc, so he decided to confront her about it when he handed her her 5th coffee of the day. Jean confessed to him about Donna’s plan and Diluc just told her not to worry about Donna and that he’ll handle it when it happens. And, of course, Jean trusts her man so much it's sort of amazing (absolutely ridiculous as Lisa told her).

On the night of the ball, Donna approached Diluc and asked to speak with him alone at the balcony. Jean and Diluc locked eyes before Jean discreetly waved him off as she spoke with Eula. Around 10 minutes have passed and she still hasn't spotted Diluc. So she went off to the balcony and as soon as she arrived there, Jean saw that Donna lunged forward to kiss Diluc and had sadly succeeded. Just as Jean was about to angrily march at Donna, Diluc pushed the woman away firmly.

“I already told you I’m married and you need to stop this nonsense” he enunciated firmly. “I don’t see a ring on your finger! Please Diluc, stop resisting and lying to me,” Donna desperately wailed as she gripped his arm tight. “My wife would not take this action lightly anymore if you keep this up,” Diluc, once again, remarks harshly. Donna scoffed and then smirked, “She’s not even here. What are you gonna do? FaceTime her? I know you only have like 10 contacts there and none of them are of your wife’s!”

Jean decided to step up, “Actually, she’s gonna file a harassment report to the HR and put you under investigation.” she sharply denoted as she walked towards them. Her heels tapping against the tiled floor loudly despite the party ongoing inside. “I’d love it if you back away from my husband, Donna. I have tolerated you long enough because you are an excellent worker. However, my patience for you has become too thin for my liking and this is the last straw.” jean disclosed as she crossed her arms with her chin up. Donna looked at the both of them back and forth with her mouth opening and closing, resembling a fish, before she excused herself and left the two of them alone.

Diluc smirked at his wife, “well that confrontation took you 7 years,” he teased her "A bit earlier than I anticipated." Diluc chuckled. Jean blushed and looked away, “It's because I trusted your judgement and knew you are capable of handling this kind of situation. But today…. I’ve had enough.” Diluc held her hand and kissed her knuckles, staring at her blue eyes the entire time. “Does this mean that it’s time to let the company know?”

Jean bites her lip before nodding, “I would feel better if we did, yes.” Diluc chuckled at her before tidying his suit, “I believe I deserve some sort of reward for tonight’s hard work. I had to deal with that for what felt like an hour—”

Before he could finish his sentence, Jean grabs his face and kisses him. “the audience be damned” was the last thought diluc had before kissing her back.

Because tonight, he will be giving all his attention to his wife only.

"Also, I'm beginning to wonder what name you put under my number since Donna said--"

"A-ah well..."

(T'was Dandelion Tights)

#genshin impact #genshin impact diluc #genshin impact jean #completely forgot to post this #daily brainrot #omg straight ship #jeanluc #diluc x jean #diluc ragnvindr #jean gunnhildr

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no-droids · 4 years ago

Text

Whenever You Want

Part Fourteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 11.2K

Warnings: Listen there is some dirty smut in this one yall okay like I was blushing when I wrote it, it has a very stark beginning and theres a pagebreak afterwards if you would prefer to skip over it. Smut includes oral sex (female receiving) rough sex, sensory deprivation, butt stuff (ass to mouth, anal fingering/penetration) so PLEASE LOOK OUT FOR IT PLEASE. Also there is jealous/possessive mando in this, season 1 Karga makes another appearance, and some angst/fluff towards the end

A/N: Nothing much today yoditos just love you all

***

Din said he’d meet you here.

You’re currently sitting across from Greef Karga in a cantina on Nevarro, a closed shield next to you and a blaster tucked into the back of your waistband, hidden underneath your shirt. You’re barely even looking at him, though—your eyes are attached to the door by an invisible string, forcing your gaze back to it no matter how much it bounces around the room.

You don’t know where Din is, you haven’t seen him in hours. But you do know that when he left, he was moving slower than you’re used to. You don’t think anyone else would notice, but you sure did. Not that he was obvious about it—you only picked up on very subtle hints. Leaning up against things just a bit more than he usually does. Taking slightly longer exiting the ramp of the Crest than his normal strides would carry him.

He didn’t say what he was going to do—just that he needed to find someone before meeting with Karga, and you accepted it. But truthfully, you didn’t want to. You were worried about him—still are, actually. But for all intents and purposes, he was speaking and acting like himself, showing no real signs of exhaustion other than the smallest instances you described before, so you didn’t really have a leg to stand on. He’s been through way worse, and you know it. You just… find yourself worrying about him so much more than you used to, and you need to learn how to gain some control over that part of you.

The kid was still passed out from healing him and you remember Din carefully setting four pucks down in the sleeping baby’s sphere and giving his ears a gentle rub between leather fingers. He turned back to you and told you to meet him at the cantina in three hours, but if it ended up taking him too long for any reason, to try your best to see if Karga will let you exchange on his behalf.

Admittedly, he didn’t sound too confident about it—the instructions were delivered with a tone that implied a doubtful, just-in-case scenario he wasn’t foreseeing happening. Or maybe he just doubted the likelihood of Karga agreeing to do business with you, you’re not entirely sure. All you know is that when he left, you were almost certain he wouldn’t be late, but you also took the time to grab the smallest blaster from his armory before heading out just in case.

Yet—here you are, three and a half hours later, eyes flicking between the door and Karga as you attempt to keep up polite conversation. After turning down his offer of alcohol for the fifth time and still not seeing any glimpse of beskar coming to your rescue, you figure this may be as good a time as any to start the exchange.

During an extended break in the small talk, you slowly reach over to the corner of your booth and press a button on the face of the kid’s shield. It hisses open and you completely miss the way Karga’s hand raises while three of his guards automatically reach for their hips. The little green monster is still snoozing comfortably while you pull out the four glowing pucks Din left you and set them on the table one by one.

They scrape along the top of it as you slowly push them over to him, before sitting back in the booth and clearing your throat, flicking your eyes between Karga and his guards. To you, nobody appears to have moved, so you muster a polite smile at him.

Karga smiles back, but makes no move to gather or inspect the offerings in front of him.

“Um…” you say after a moment, suddenly feeling your heart start to beat a little faster. “Mando… Mando gave me permission to exchange on his behalf.”

“I believe you,” he drawls out in response, but the pucks still sit untouched in front of him as he leans back in the booth and studies you. “Mando has always had a… let’s say, a frustrating penchant for disregarding the pillars of our code. My apologies, young lady, but I’m afraid that I cannot accept these from you.”

Your voice comes out quieter than you’d like it to sound. “Why not?”

“It is… unlawful,” he answers after a moment. “Our organization operates under strict rules.”

Does it? You blink. No, it doesn’t. You’re nothing to the Guild and you’ve sat next to Din quite a few times while Karga talked, listening to him drunkenly boast about return rates and out members by name. You’re not sure why he’s barring you like this, but you’re also not self-assured enough to put practically any spine into it whatsoever. “I’m… afraid I don’t understand.”

“I cannot legally do guild business with individuals not recognized as members in an official capacity,” he sighs, sounding grave and almost apologetic about it, but you don’t know him well enough to know if he’s a good actor or not. “There’s nothing I can do for you besides provide you with my company, not until Mando decides to show.”

Well now that doesn’t make any sense, and you’re starting to worry that for some reason or another, he isn’t going to show. Though it was incredibly well concealed, you’re well aware that Din was still lingering in the final recovery stages when he left the Crest earlier and all you have to go on is his word that he’d be here. Something could’ve happened. Something could be happening right now, you need to push.

“People pick up bounties for extra credits all the time,” you mumble, still way too fucking quiet about it. Maker, you’re not even sure if he could hear that over the sound of the cantina. Speak up, speak up.

“Yes, but those quarry are listed on the New Republic’s most wanted database,” Karga acknowledges diplomatically, educating more than he is arguing, before uncorking the bottle of glowing blue alcohol in front of him and beginning to pour himself another shot. “They’re fodder. Up for grabs—names, last known locations, and biometrics published for the entire galaxy to read.” He tilts his head down at the four metal pucks on the table without removing his gaze from the gradually filling glass. “Those pucks are different, they’re commissions. Tied specifically to Guild contracts.” Karga clunks the bottle back down again and corks it, pinning you with a stare. “For all I know, you could’ve murdered a member of our ranks and come to collect payment for his bounties. Can’t have that.”

Your blood suddenly turns to ice at the implication, eyes wide and your heartbeat rocketing as you look from Karga to the three guards casually stationed behind him. “You—You think I murdered Mando?”

“No,” he says, easily and in the very same breath, before throwing the shot back and wiping his mouth with a grimace. “Not sure I’d care too much if you did. It’s not my rule, but I am required to follow it or risk losing my position in the Guild.”

Shit. Shit. What do you do?

You’re blank, left quiet and feeling increasingly unsure of how to proceed. Karga, however, seems completely unbothered and even appears to be enjoying himself and your company. He gives you another smile, this one a lot friendlier and more genuine than the one earlier, before setting his elbows on the table and leaning forward.

“Look, I want to help you,” he admits, keeping his tone light, “but my hands are tied. Just relax and share a drink with me until he gets here, it’s not a problem.”

Fuck, you don’t like this, and a quick look around brings another reminder of Din’s continued absence. Your chest feels tight, the anxiety starting to compound and make you jumpy. It’s been too long—it’s been at least forty minutes or so of waiting by now and something just feels wrong about this. Not having him next to you feels wrong enough on its own, but when he specifically told you he’d be here?

You clench your jaw and try to work up your nerve. Karga is a nice guy, right? He knows you by name, he knows who you are to Mando. And while you never really thought about the bounty hunter’s omnipresent protection as being anything other than metaphorical, you suddenly realize that… it might be literal, too. How much sway do you actually have here, you wonder? You’re not stupid, you’re not going to try anything stupid, but maybe just another question won’t hurt?

“Well, um… how do you become a member, then?” You ask him, and you watch as he leans back in the booth, raising both eyebrows at you.

“Excuse me?” He asks, though there’s a genuine amusement in his voice. Stunned that you’d even say the words aloud.

“I have four bodies,” you tell him shortly. You’re still quiet about it, but his thoroughly entertained astonishment is beginning to rub you the wrong way. You don’t want to be part of the Guild, you don’t want to be here, you’re doing this out of growing necessity. “One of which I dragged through a blizzard on Hoth by its ankles and put into carbonite myself, so please just tell me what I have to do to get you to take them.”

“I can’t,” he repeats, shaking his head like you’re just not getting it. “New members are only accepted if they bring in an S-level criminal from the database or if they complete a commission that was granted to them by someone of my station—neither of which apply to you. If you cannot present me with any sort of reasonable argument for which they could, then I’m afraid this is not a favor I can swing.”

“I was sitting right here,” you return, suddenly finding your voice. If Karga wants an argument from you to get this to happen, then you’ll do it. You just need to finish this exchange, go back to the Crest, and scan around for Din’s signal. “When you first gave the pucks to Mando, I sat right here and you pushed them over to this side of the table—I was present for the commission and now I’m here to complete it.”

He shakes his head. “But I didn’t give them to you, I gave them to Mando—”

“Yes, but you only wanted to give him three,” you immediately point out. “The last one, the one I told you I put into carbonite—you said you threw it in because you liked me, it could’ve been for me.”

Karga suddenly stops and blinks at you for a few seconds, and you bite your lip, wondering if the logic will hold. It’s flimsy as fuck and you know he could very easily rip it apart if he wanted to. It could’ve been for you but it wasn’t, he gave it to Mando. You also purposefully leave out the fact that you’re also the reason Mando only gave him three bodies in the first place; your only goal here is to complete this transaction as quickly as possible and leave. You don’t like the fact that it’s taking Din so long, and you also don’t like the fact that Karga seems so keen on keeping you here with him, no matter how many reassurances he provides. He said he wants to help you? This can be his chance to prove it.

After a few extended moments of consideration, Karga finally shrugs like he really couldn’t care less before reaching across the table for the pucks and beginning to stack them in his palm.

“What is your last name?” He asks, turning behind him to gesture for one of his men with a jerk of his head. The bodyguard exits the cantina without another word and your eyes flick back to Karga’s.

“Why does it matter?” You ask uncertainly, watching another guard approach with a holopad as he shrugs once more.

“It doesn’t, but we need something for our records,” Karga explains, grabbing the device as it’s tapped against his shoulder without removing his gaze from yours. “I can just use Doe if you don’t feel like sharing—most of our members tend to prefer anonymity, including your companion.”

Your eyebrows furrow even as your heart continues to pound, wondering how they can afford to be so lax about some things but take others so seriously. “You have him down as John Doe?”

“First name Man,” Karga grunts in response, finally breaking eye contact to begin navigating through pages on the holopad.

“Ah,” you say shortly, knowing you’d probably find the joke funny in other circumstances. You’re not out of the trenches yet, you still feel the worry tugging hard at your chest.

“Very well,” Karga announces with a sigh, pocketing the pucks in his leather overcoat and then handing the holopad back to one of the men flanking him after a moment. “Someone is collecting the carbonite plaques from your vessel as we speak.”

You give him a nod, taking a deep breath that you hope is slow and subtle enough to not give your anxiety away. He helped you out, you’re halfway through this. Now comes the exchange. Now it’s his turn to give you the credits and four more pucks, that’s how this should go.

Only, Karga leans back in his seat and cocks his head at you. “Unfortunately, I believe we have found ourselves in the midst of yet another predicament.”

Your heart continues to slam, praying you haven’t somehow majorly fucked things up by getting this far. Din still isn’t here, why is he so fucking late? He nearly froze to death and you handled a dead body just to make this meeting on time, where the fuck is he?

You raise an eyebrow at him, willing the building panic not to show on your face. “Have we?”

“You’re lucky credits are attached to commissions instead of rank within the Guild,” he prefaces, pulling out a large handful of them to begin counting, and your eyes flick around the cantina while you know he isn’t looking, “or else you’d be getting about half of what I’d normally give him.”

Heart galloping when you still don’t see any sign of him, you just decide to keep extra quiet as you watch Karga divvy out a sizable stack of credits, hoping your prolonged silence will protect you somehow.

“The question now becomes…” he lifts an eyebrow at you while sliding them across the table to you, “how many pucks do I give you in return, hm?”

Fuck, you don’t like this, you’re trying to make it crystal fucking clear that your intentions do not extend beyond the perimeter of this table. There’s no you to be found in this deal, you’re just an emergency proxy in Din’s absence and you only inserted yourself in the situation to accomplish that task. “I told you I’m only here to exchange on Mando’s behalf, that’s it.”

“Be that as it may…” Karga glances around the cantina like he’s thinking extra hard about it. This is a made-up problem, you both know there’s no predicament here. He knows you didn’t kill Mando, he knows there’s no real reason to be giving you such a hard time about this, and you clench your jaw as he still seems to take his time considering it. “Tell you what, young lady,” he finally turns back to you. “Do me the honor of sharing one sip of this fine spotchka with me and I’ll give you four pucks to pass along to Mando.”

Okay. Okay, you can do that, if he really cares that much. Karga gestures for the closest droid to come by with a glass for you, but you just grab the bottle in front of him and uncork it without thinking too much, balancing the glowing blue liquid with two hands and diligently taking a small sip of it before setting it down again. Appearing satisfied with your demonstration of upholding your end of the bargain, Karga grins and reaches into another pocket.

“Four for Mando,” he pushes four pucks across the table, “same rate and return as last time, as promised.” You nearly deflate in relief as you quickly gather them up and begin dropping them into the snoozing baby’s shield along with the credits, but then Karga reaches back and pulls out another puck, pushing it over to you. “And one for you.”

You blink at him, frozen in place.

“Lowest level, lowest pay. Not even a criminal by New Republic standards, just a missing person,” he goes on to say, but then quite suddenly…

Quite suddenly you’re absolutely fucking horrified.

You don’t want it. Everything inside you surges up to scream that you do not want that puck. It’s a waste of time, even if it’s an extra job—it’s too much trouble, too much fuel for such a small reward. You already know good and well that Din won’t want to bother, getting this extra puck would be considered a detriment to him.

“What if I don’t want it?” You ask, sounding nervous and vaguely out of breath as you look down at it.

Karga scoffs. “Of course you don’t. Nobody wants these, why do you think I’m trying so hard to pawn one off on you?”

Shit. This is not at all how you expected any of this would go. You know he’s not really asking, even if his tone and continued courtesy implies it’s only a request. There’s an expectation attached to this, and it appears you take too long pondering an offer that isn’t actually voluntary. Karga stares at you and your clear apprehension for just a few seconds more, before finally giving you an ultimatum. “You said you’re here on his behalf. You either take all five pucks now or Mando only gets three next time, your choice.”

Oh. Oh, no. This is a lose-lose; three pucks means more fuel and less credits, five pucks means more fuel and less credits. It’s not like you have any real bargaining power here—almost everything he’s done for you today has been a favor of some sort and you’re well aware that things can always get worse.

Still, you take a deep breath and try your best to throw around whatever weight you have left in one final agreement.

“Give me your word you’ll go back to giving him four from now on, no more hassling or hard time constraints and we’ll take it just this once,” you tell him, trying to conjure and put power behind your words even though you’re unsure if they’ll stick.

“Deal,” Karga readily agrees with a smile, reaching his hand across the table. You have no choice but to meet him in the middle and clasp it, unable to feel anywhere close to good about your performance here. It was clunky and insecure and even though you just barely succeeded in making the exchange overall, you’re massively disappointed in the specifics.

But then Karga’s eyes quickly flick over your shoulder.

“Ah, Mando!” He suddenly calls out, and your hand nearly snatches away from his while your body goes rigid.

Oh, this isn’t good, this is not good. Well, it’s good that he’s here but it also really fucking isn’t. You don’t even turn your head; you sit completely straight and still while the cantina falls to a hush and heavy footsteps begin to approach behind you. You fucked up—you fucked up, you didn’t wait long enough and you feel the sharp regret instantly twist in your stomach. He said he’d be here, why didn’t you trust him? Your anxiety and stress compounded and spurned you to act too quickly, you made the deal a few fucking seconds before he showed up.

And, as Din eventually comes into your peripheral, taking his time leaning his rifle up against the table, you immediately realize that you should not have worried. Recovery isn’t even a word in his vocabulary right now—he’s more intimidating than he’s ever been, more powerful and certain and dangerous while he lowers himself into the seat next to you than he’s ever felt to you before. Everything is so quiet now that he’s here; you feel like even just swallowing against the sudden dryness in your throat turns into an audible gulp. The man sitting across from you may own this cantina and every material good under its roof, but the one sitting by your side feels like he steals the literal air from the room just by walking inside it.

Yet, in spite of the daunting presence of the Mandalorian, Karga beams and tips his glass at him. “I believe you’ve arrived just in time for your favorite part of the conversation, friend. The farewells.”

You stare wide-eyed down at the table as Din leans back into the booth and very slowly extends his arm behind your shoulders, saying nothing at all to him.

The testosterone is radiating from him to the point of near suffocation, you can taste the alpha in the air. Your heart slams in your chest at the unspoken claim he just made with a subtle movement, and though you’ve never been one for masculine displays, this one weirdly feels… good right now. You know it’s primitive and crude and you’re not a piece of meat to be fought over, but it doesn’t feel like that at all. It’s the immediate feeling of security that serves to heat your cheeks, the fact that you’ve been a nervous mess trying to be extra brave this whole interaction and then suddenly you have the backup of an entire army contained within one single suit of armor next to you.

If you weren’t internally panicking at how badly you screwed this shit up, you’d probably be going fucking feral for him right now.

Karga says your name and your gaze snaps to his, feeling like you can’t breathe. “My associate has collected the plaques, nothing keeps you here any longer. It was a pleasure doing business with you.”

Still, nobody at the table moves.

After a moment, you carefully glance up and to the side at the sharp, metallic profile of his helmet. Maker, you can’t explain it—it’s like you feel terrified but not really for yourself, if that makes sense. You’re upset with yourself for not having enough trust in his word, absolutely, but something in Din’s demeanor tells you that he’s going to be considerably less understanding of how Karga handled this situation than the way you did.

The helmet slowly turns down to look at you, and you bite your lip while carefully placing your hand on his thigh brace under the table, letting him feel your fingers brush against the bend of his knee.

He turns back to Karga after a few seconds, still not saying a single word, until eventually Din’s arm is lifted from behind your shoulders and you feel his leather fingers gently clasp your hand, before he starts to rise from the booth and pull you along next to him. You both stand, and he silently presses a button on his vambrace without dropping your grip, urging the kid’s shield to follow along behind him.

“Um, goodbye,” you just barely remember to tell Karga as Din begins leading you away, apparently not waiting for the polite farewells he arrived in time for.

“Wait!” A voice calls out just before you can make your exit, and Din pauses just in time for Karga to extend that damned fifth puck out for you to grab. Right in fucking front of him. “Can’t forget this!”

Fuck. Great. Thanks.

Blood rushes to your face while you go to reach for it, taking the puck and then placing it in the open shield along with four others in a way that you hope is casual but you know isn’t. You close the lid on it and then squeeze Din’s hand slightly, but he stays rooted to the spot for a few more seconds, having watched the entire exchange play out. Though you obviously wouldn’t be able to read his facial expressions even if you could lift your head to look up at him, you can’t will yourself to do so right now. You’re too disappointed in yourself and nervous—you just stand there silently as he looks back at Karga, staring at your feet and praying he doesn’t do anything brash.

After too many moments of uncertainty, you squeeze his hand again and slowly begin to pull on it. Without needing much pressure at all, he goes where you go, and you end up being the one to lead Din out of the cantina by the hand still tangled with yours.

***

The walk back to the Crest lasts an eternity.

Neither one of you say anything at all to each other the entire way there, and you know he’s not mad at you yet, but you’re worried. You feel incredibly self-critical right now and it’s really not helping that he seems even quieter and more wound up than usual. You don’t know if it’s because he already figured out that you just handed him extra work or if it’s because whatever made him late to the cantina also altered his mood, hit a reset button and reminded him of the way he used to be, the armor he’s wearing. Was there a confrontation, you wonder? Is he okay? He seems like he’s… extra Mandalorian right now, there’s not really a better way to describe it.

He doesn’t drop your hand, though. As you pass through the markets and shanty huts lining the streets, Din holds onto you. Shoulders tense and strides heavy, but his fingers stay tangled in yours.

Regardless, you keep your mouth shut and eventually the Crest comes into view. The ramp drops to the ground and the three of you make your way up, and you have enough foresight to carefully drop Din’s hand and lead the baby’s shield over to the unused cot built into the hull walls, closing him in a safe quiet place to sleep and continue building up his strength again.

You turn around to see Din press another button on his vambrace. He stays with his back to you as the ramp slowly closes, but as soon as it latches up against the hull and locks into place, he nearly whips around and suddenly he’s right in front of you, gloves cupping your face.

“What happened?” He asks sharply, the helmet looking you up and down. “Are you alright? Why did you look so scared?��

You reach up to rest your hands on his, blinking up at him and not knowing what to say. How are you going to tell him? He’s gotta waste extra fuel and time on a bullshit quarry because of you, what are you going to say? You don’t even know if it’s last known location is nearby; he might have to fly to some remote, desolate corner of the galaxy just for a handful of credits because you couldn’t wait a fucking hour for him.

“I, uh… I-I’m sorry, I just…” But it’s nearly impossible to form a coherent thought when he’s this close to you and sounding fucking sincere, genuinely concerned about you while you’re stuck worrying about how to break the bad news to him. “Oh, stars, um…”

“Did Karga fuck with you?” He asks in that same sharp tone when you don’t finish your thought, but you’re so absorbed in your own conflict that you barely even hear him. “Because I can go back right now, the cantina is just—”

“Okay wait, please—” You suddenly speak up, “before I tell you, just… please keep in mind that I did save your life two days ago, so…”

“Sweet girl,” Din rumbles slowly, a subtle warning for you to hurry up and spit it out. His fingers tighten just slightly on your cheeks, still so gentle but needing you to communicate with him right now.

Tell him, you just need to tell him. If he gets mad, then he gets mad, but at least he’ll know at that point and you won’t just be springing it on him out of nowhere.

“I fucked up,” you breathe out, eyebrows pulling up in the middle as you tighten your own grip on his hands. “I’m so sorry, I fucked up and you were late and I got nervous and I didn’t wait long enough and I tried to make the exchange like you asked me to but then I had to take a fifth puck and I didn’t want to but Karga threatened to short change you next time around unless I agreed to take an extra one for the lowest pay just this once and I didn’t have any bargaining power and you showed up right after I agreed to the deal and I’m so so sorry—”

You cut yourself off with your own ragged gasp, not having paused once to breathe throughout the entire thing while your expression twisted up with regret more and more the longer he allowed you to speak.

Din stands there in front of you and doesn’t move, hands still attached to your face.

“Okay,” he eventually tells you. Stunted words, like he’s trying extra hard to find them when yours just fell out of your mouth in a complete mess. “It’s okay. You did… good.”

The silence is tense and you’re becoming more and more anxious the longer he takes to speak. He’s lying for your benefit, he must be. When he drops his hands from your face and takes a full step back, you take the gesture as symbolic and nearly launch into panic.

“Maker, I’m so sorry I didn’t wait for—” You start to say, but Din cuts you off.

“Did he make you…” His back suddenly goes a little straighter, voice finding a quiet edge through the modulator as his fingers subtly twitch at his sides, “…Uncomfortable?”

You pull back at the sudden change in subject and furrow your eyebrows.

“Who, Karga?” You have to think about it. Did he make you uncomfortable, or were you just uncomfortable already? You might’ve just been scared because you were making it scarier than it really was, you can admit that’s a valid possibility. “Um… no? I don’t know, not… not really, I don’t think.”

“No?” He asks, taking a small step forward. “You don’t know? Or not really… you don’t think?”

You know you can only see the blade of his visor, but something makes you feel like you’re looking right in his eyes. You even go back and forth between where you’re pretty confident each one is, trying to read his intentions right now. It’s like he’s purposefully trying to keep space between you even though he looks like he wants to move closer, fisting his hands at his sides when he looks like he wants to touch you.

“No, he just… lowballed me towards the end of it and I got intimidated, but I’m also not…” Your expression narrows in concentration while you try to find the words to explain yourself, wanting to be as honest as possible with him. “I don’t know, I’m not like you. I’m not that strong, but I’m trying to get better. I think he was probably just being normal. He did offer me alcohol a bunch, but I’m pretty sure he also did that last time, so—”

“And I didn’t like it the last time he did it,” Din says quietly, taking another small step forward.

You blink up at him, completely dumb. This is what’s bothering him? Is he really not upset with you at all for giving him more work? It’s like the major fuckup on your behalf just went in one side of the helmet and out the other, he barely even acknowledged it other than the role Karga played. He said it’s okay and you did good, which are like… five of the most common words in Galactic Basic, a Wookiee could probably find a way to say them. How are you supposed to take that? Were you just overthinking this whole thing from the very beginning? You know anxiety tends to be irrational by definition, but has none of your panic from the past hour been justified whatsoever?

“Why were you so late?” You ask him, but it’s not accusatory in the slightest. It’s… concerned, worried about his well-being without having a real reason. He’s clearly more than fine right now, he’s like a hurricane enclosed in metal and holding still in front of you. Too much potential energy just waiting for a reason to be released, too much tension held tight and ready to snap.

“I’m sorry.” He quickly reaches out to grab your hand and squeeze it, before dropping it just as quickly. Fucking lightning quick, you’ll never understand how he can be so damn quick with all that extra weight strapped to him. “It took longer than I thought it would and she’s not really someone you can rush.” His response, ironically, feels very rushed, like he’s trying to address the tangent but also keep things on track, but something in the answer he gives catches your direct attention. “Did he flirt with you?”

“Who is she and what can’t be rushed?” You blurt at the same time, not even taking a split second to think about it.

Din stops short at the blunt question, staring at you in a silence that feels like it’s vaguely taken aback.

After a few moments of that… strangeness, of the two of you realizing that you’re both feeling slightly possessive over each other for absolutely no reason whatsoever, you start to feel… warm. In another weirdly stupid, primitive way. You know that letting those kinds of thoughts have their day in a relationship isn’t a good thing, but you can’t explain it. Some deep-seated, prehistoric instinct inside you just goes fucking nuts whenever he gets in either provider or protector mode. Now you understand exactly why he wanted to get you alone after you admitted to being jealous once before. You totally fucking get it, you’re right there with him right now. He hasn’t said anything, but you think he feels it, too.

“She makes things,” Din finally answers you, careful with his words and somehow managing to address your question while also sidestepping it, leaving you with only the smallest bit of information to go off of. “Did he flirt with you?”

“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly. “Maybe. He could’ve just been trying to be friendly. What did she make for you?”

“She made it for you,” he responds, again not really answering the question but continuing to juggle two separate conversations for your benefit. “Did he scare you?”

“For me?” You ask, eyebrows shooting upwards. Provider, that stupid cavewoman DNA whispers to your lower body, making your voice go a little breathless. “You asked her to make something for me?”

“Did he scare you?” Din repeats sternly, grabbing your hand and giving it a firm squeeze. “Because I can go back, I swear—”

Protector, it whispers this time, and your knees nearly buckle.

“Everything is scary when I don’t know where you are,” you admit to him, knowing it’s the truth regardless of how self-deprecating it sounds. The only times you’ve ever truly been brave was because of him or the kid. Stabbing a Corellian and then immediately flying the Crest out to him afterwards, walking through a pitch black forest believing a dangerous criminal was hiding in it, dragging a dead body through snow and shoving it into carbonite, standing up for yourself and pushing a deal through when odds were stacked against you. Though it’s nothing to him, it’s nothing, it’s leaps for you. You’re slowly learning to find a backbone, and he’s the one inspiring it.

Din holds there for a moment, unmoving with his hand still clutching yours. You can’t get a read on him but you know how you feel right now. Achy. Hot. Needy. Wanting him to come closer.

“Will you do something for me?” He asks you after a prolonged silence. His voice is quiet, but… incredibly restrained. Controlled chaos—his body is rigid and he’s flexing muscles that aren’t necessary for just standing, feeling like a sprinter holding still on the starting blocks.

“Of course,” you breathe out.

Din lets go of your hand and tilts his helmet over at the corner of the hull behind you. “Go turn around and face that wall.”

You freeze, immediately recognizing the undertone in his voice. Heat ladles deep into the pit of your tummy, sends warmth pooling downwards. He wants to do this here? Right now?

“We’re—” you look around the enclosed hull, “Mando, we’re not in hyperspace, we haven’t even left the surface yet…”

He looks around too, taking a second to blankly take in his stagnant surroundings like he had absolutely fucking no idea, before turning back to you and not saying a word. Maker, everything below your waist is already stirring, twisting hot and deep inside, but you’re trying to be the voice of reason for a second.

“What if somebody hears us?” You whisper, and Din cocks his head to the other side.

“I can help you stay quiet,” he murmurs, and… fuck. You don’t know what it means, but you immediately imagine his hand held tight over your mouth while he takes some of this stress out on you and you already feel yourself wilting at the thought. Okay.

“Okay,” you breathe without needing anything else at all, before spinning around and standing exactly where he told you to. It’s just a corner near the back of the hull, nothing else here to look at besides two metal panels meeting at a right angle, but that’s admittedly what makes your heart start beating quicker. You can’t see him come up behind you but you can feel it. Slow, measured, but so restrained.

But then he stops almost immediately, before the back of your shirt is suddenly being yanked upwards and you remember at the very last second.

Din carefully grips his blaster and then eases it out of your waistband, the metal sliding warm along your skin from pressing against it for so long. You never told him you took it with you, and he’s so fucking quiet behind you. You have no idea how he’s reacting to that piece of information you originally didn’t think twice about.

“Do you like carrying my gun around?” Din’s voice murmurs soft through the modulator to you, but then the blaster is tossed uselessly to the side, skittering loudly across the floor of the hull.

“Yes,” you reply, beginning to shyly turn your head back to look at him, hoping to gauge his response.

“Don’t turn around,” he quickly interrupts you, pushing your shoulder back into position and keeping you facing the corner. You blink at the metal walls in a bit of a daze but follow instructions regardless, feeling your heart pound at the sudden display of dominance from him. He has a very valid reason for it and you don’t realize what it is until a few seconds later, but even if he didn’t and he was just telling you what to do for the fun of it… you’d still like it.

But then his helmet is carefully being lowered over your head and you shudder as your vision is replaced with a familiar black abyss. Fuck, his helmet, why does he like it so much when you wear this? Admittedly, you don’t have much time to contemplate—as soon as it’s fitted and secure, he spins you around and you have to just do your best to maintain your balance, not having any visual to help.

“Can you hear me?” Din asks, and your clothes start to be ripped off of you. Your shoulders tip sideways with how quick he is about it, feeling him pull the fabric off and hearing the soft sound it makes landing on the floor.

“Yes,” you tell him, but he doesn’t respond, continuing to strip you completely naked in the hull. Once your upper body is bare and he’s yanking your pants and underwear down your legs, you try saying it again as you step out of them, louder for him this time.

“I can’t hear you,” his voice grunts after a moment. You know he’s in front of you but you can’t really tell where, now that he’s not touching you. “Scream.”

You take a second, not having hard evidence anymore but still very well aware that you’re parked close to a marketplace on Nevarro and multiple people are nearby while you’re wearing his helmet. This is dangerous for him, and not sure if you should, but then an arm is wrapping around your back and a large leather palm rests directly over your chest. Din repeats his last word very slowly and clearly for you, waiting to feel it under his hands.

Your sternum lifts while it rises with your deep breath and then collapses as you diligently yell as loud as you can into the helmet, feeling like you might deafen yourself with the trapped sound.

“Good,” he growls, suddenly spinning you around and pushing you back into the metal paneling. “I can’t hear you, be as loud as you need. Hit me or something, put up a fight if you want me to stop, alright?”

Arousal rockets through you and you let out a moan already, taking advantage of the noise suppression and beyond turned on at this point. You feel like you’re buzzing with it, lit up with excitement and wondering with bated breath what he’s planning to do to you.

“Alright?” Comes his voice from behind you once more, and you quickly jerk the heavy helmet in a nod for him. You can put up a fight and you know he’ll stop, you don’t have any problem with that and the fact that he specifically made sure to wait until he knew you understood him makes you start to pant inside the hollow beskar.

But then you feel him flick a small switch at the base of the helmet and then everything abruptly cuts out and goes dead silent.

Nothing. Nothing. You’re standing in a pitch black room where no other sound exists besides your own labored breathing. Just like the waterfall on Naboo, but you can’t speak this time. Temporarily making you blind, deaf, and putting a proverbial gag over your mouth all with one powerful piece of armor.

You shudder and he kicks your legs apart before you can do much else, yanking your hips back while you just try your best to cling to the wall for stability. You don’t know what he’s going to do, you’re completely isolated in here and the only way you can even tell he dropped to his knees is the hot glide of his tongue through your pussy from behind.

Oh fuck—you arch into position as best you can while hands wrap around your ankles to pull them apart, trying to make the angle better. His tongue licks softly over your clit and each time is like an electric shock jolting through your body, making you twitch back and up for him, stretching and begging him to do it again. You can’t see anything right now so your mind readily imagines the visuals instead, providing you with a third party view. Din, fully clothed and face shielded by your thighs, eating you out from behind while you brace yourself against the wall, completely naked and at his mercy, head tilted down from the weight of his helmet and living for the moments he decides to drag his tongue across your clit.

Without warning, a sudden burst of sensation ripples along your backside and causes you to lift the beskar in surprise, but without being able to hear anything, it takes you a second to figure out that he just smacked your ass. The realization comes more or less at the exact time he decides to flatten his tongue and follow the curve of you back and up.

You gasp into the pitch black and there’s a moment where you just hold utterly still for him, experiencing and processing the sensation for the very first time. His mouth is soft and warm as he tastes you here, his fingers digging into the swell of your cheeks to spread you open. You’re glad your face is hidden so he can’t see the shock in your expression, the way your mouth drops and your eyes close as you let him explore you this way.

His gloved hands leave you for just a moment while he continues gliding his tongue against you, along every single bit of skin he can reach, and then you feel a bare hand reach up between your legs and begin to rub slow circles around your clit. His other arm pushes against your lower back and you’re forced into the corner even more, your naked breasts pressing hard against cool metal and feeling his hot mouth and strong fingers work you closer to the edge from behind.

You’re panting into the helmet, your hips arching back to feel that stimulation on your clit better, and as his fingers move over it slow and strong, you feel a soft vibration against your skin and you realize he’s moaning into you. The knowledge sparks a different kind of heat through you and makes you suddenly go still and tense right here. If he stays just like this for even just a few more seconds, you’re going to cum.

“Din, I’m gonna cum,” your voice warbles inside the enclosed steel—just as his touch decides to abandon your body. You groan loudly in distress, completely alone without his hands or mouth on you anymore, but all he likely hears is the silence of the hull and the way your palm smacks against the wall with it. You were so close, everything feels like it’s pulled up so tight and painful and it hurts—

A hand clutches your hip and then a thick cock is suddenly pushing up against your soaking wet entrance, going to alleviate that twisting discomfort. Your eyes roll back and your whole body goes limp as he slowly eases forward and breaks you open, fitting himself deep inside where you love to feel him most. Your hands claw down the walls with a swell of bliss as he pulls out and then starts thrusting—and fuck, you love this. You love the way he’s trapping you up against the corner and making you see stars at the same time, the way he’s supporting your weight but crushing down into you, too. It makes you go boneless and want to riot simultaneously, groaning loud into the quiet abyss as he gives you what you both desperately needed.

One of his hands sinks down between your legs to play with your clit again, while a slick finger presses up against your ass and you gasp as he slowly penetrates you there, too. Din’s hips work steady and powerful behind you, pushing you into the wall with every desperate thrust, using the arm shoved between your legs to support you as well as stimulate, and you just feel yourself move into a different place. You don’t have a name for it but it feels like hyperspace. Silence so loud it feels suppressing, faster than anything light can touch, nowhere and everywhere, hurtling towards something you can’t see but know lies in the distance. You can tell he’s still fucking the tension out of his body, you can feel him working another wet finger inside you and stretching the virgin muscles back there, but every sensation begins to slowly blur together in a wicked uprising of ecstasy.

You don’t know where you are anymore, just that his fingers keep rubbing your clit and you think he's trying to ease a third into you when your destination abruptly arrives.

You nearly collapse when you cum, contracting so hard around his cock and fingers that you cry out unexpectedly—and because of the helmet, you think it’s just as unexpected for him. He stops moving—everything stops moving besides you. Your hips stutter backwards into his stationary body, dragging your clit back and forth against the tips of his unmoving fingers and fucking him as best you can. It shatters white hot and goes straight through to your soul, wringing pleasure and wetness between your legs in waves.

Your knees are knocking against each other when Din pulls out, his cock still deliciously hard and now soaking wet with your cum, and then they just suddenly decide to give up without warning. You don’t fall necessarily, but you do slowly slide down the wall like a slug and Din follows you to the floor instead of holding you up any longer. His sternum moves quick and heavy against your back as he breathes and then suddenly the same switch at the base of his helmet is flicked, and sound bursts into existence all at once.

He’s panting. Harsh breaths behind you that match the rapid pace of his chest, and the ambient noise of the rest of the hull.

“Can you hear me?” He gasps, sounding fucking wrecked, and you nod the helmet against the wall while gravity and exhaustion and his beskar chestplate squishes you into it. “P-Put up a fight if you want me t-to stop, p-please—” he rasps out, almost the entire thing air and so close to cumming, and then his knees lift just slightly and the blunt head of his cock presses against your other entrance.

And, if you wanted, you absolutely could. He’s got you boxed into the corner but he’s not constricting your movements, he’s given you every ability to struggle. You could easily throw an elbow back against his side, push against the wall to shove him away, smack at his arms or even just flail against his body in panic—you could do one or all of those things to signal him to stop and you know he’d do it immediately, he’s asking you to. You could struggle. If you wanted.

Instead, you just grab hold of the beskar strapped to his thigh and drop the helmet to your chest, nearly vibrating with the thrill and preparing yourself for it. You know he’s gotta be inches away from orgasm, you know from the tone of his voice that he’s right there on the edge and it’s not like it’s going to last a long time. Thanks to him, you also feel like you’re just as slick and wet back there as you are between your legs, stretched open by his fingers while you came all over him. You want nothing more than to give this to him, to let him be the only person in the universe that knows how you feel this way.

When you pointedly do not put up a fight and even go so far as to arch your lower back for him in presentation, Din curses and his fingers begin jerking back and forth over your sensitive clit once more. It might normally be too much for you, but your body is sparking with lust and quickly acclimates to the stimulation, learning to burn and ache for it, too. Fuck, it feels so good, you tense and melt into it at the same time, letting him ease you back up to that peak once more.

He pushes up against the tight ring of skin and you can’t fucking explain it—his fingers keep rubbing your clit and he’s slowly pushing into your ass and—

“I—I think I’m—” you suddenly lift the helmet to gasp out in surprise, forgetting he can’t hear you, “ngh—D-Din, I think I’m gonna c—”

He’s just barely able to breach the tight entrance and fit the head inside before he freezes—and even though everything happens consecutively, it’s all so rapid that it feels simultaneous.

Your hips could go forward, but they don’t. Your body decides to send you backwards into him, pushing him inside nearly halfway all at once as your muscles lock down and just fucking strangle his cock. Your piercing scream gets trapped in the silence of his helmet as you cum once more—painfully, madly and with every fucking part of you for him. There’s maybe one or two mind shattering pulses of ecstasy before the rest of your body catches up and starts convulsing, and by then Din is already gasping and fumbling behind you, suddenly realizing what’s happening without hearing the sound of your ragged warnings and then ripping himself away just in time.

He punches out your name when he cums like you just fucking snapped him in half—his body hunches and the beskar digs hard into your back as warmth starts splattering along your skin. You crumple while he shoves his hips up against your spine, riding and working the orgasm out of himself while yours just fucking obliterates you. You think you whine his name—or a curse word or something, but it gets strained and your lungs lose air every time his powerful armored body humps you into the wall of his ship.

Finally he eases up and you just lay there and listen to the ringing in your ears. Blissfully empty, still pulsing from cumming so hard and feeling like your bones just decided to stop existing and the rest of you was okay with it since you were already on the floor anyways. You feel him shudder and twitch behind you, letting go of that last bit of tension until he too allows gravity to slouch his heavy torso over onto you.

You both stay like that for a while, until your eyes close and your everything below your waist goes numb. Eventually you feel him shift and your head bobbles as the helmet is slowly removed, but a large palm cradles your chin to stop your face from slamming into the wall in exhaustion once it’s off. You just continue to melt into the paneling like you’re nothing more than goo of a human being while he trades it back to its rightful place on his shoulders and tucks his cock back into his pants, before wrapping his arms around you and lifting you both up. The floor and metal walls, once feeling like you and them were one, suddenly decide to disappear entirely as you’re hauled up into Din’s powerful arms.

He slowly carries your naked, fucked senseless body over to the fresher, and you squint your eyes open over his shoulder to see… he’s still got his rifle slung around his back while his cum is dripping down yours. Not a single thing on him is out of place and you’re, well… a mess is a word that works. Limp and doll-like, carried like your weight is practically nothing to him after years of having the densest armor known to the galaxy strapped to his body.

Setting you down is a mess, too. At some point you think he just gives up and decides to return you to your humble floor abode with a patience and care unexpected from someone who just defiled you so thoroughly. You hear the fresher door open and the faucet squeak, before he turns back around and crouches to your level.

“Stay here,” Din tells you lowly, his modulated voice coming gentle and warm through the sounds of water raining down against metal. You don’t feel his touch directly, but your hair moves away from your face. “I’ll be right back, okay—just stay here.”

Can do. Easy. He waits until you murmur a soft mhm to him before he leaves the tiny compartment, and then you soon hear his heavy footsteps ascending the ladder to the cockpit.

***

You don’t think you fall asleep, but the powering up of the Crest’s thrusters make you realize your eyes were closed. Opening them barely qualifies as a squint though; you look around to see steam slowly filling the fresher, the water already running hot and welcoming in the small room.

You know you need to shower but you’re so fucking exhausted, you feel like you can’t even move your body. You also know you can just do the same exact thing in there as you’re doing in here, you just need to muster up the energy necessary to get inside it and then fall back asleep. He set you down in the small little space outside the shower door and then got everything set up for you, you can at least stand up and take a few steps.

Unfortunately, you might pick just about the worst time possible to plant your hands on the ground and work to struggle upright on all fours like a newborn animal. The steady rise through Nevarro’s atmosphere pushes gravity down harder than you’re expecting—is he trying to fly quickly or are you just that dead-limbed?—and then of course, by the time you do manage to fight it and successfully get on two wobbly legs to hold yourself up, the subtle shift of the hyperdrive kicking in nearly knocks you back down again. You stumble and grab the walls, bracing yourself against them and looking down at your knees in exasperation. Come on, work. Move forward. Come on.

You’re glad he’s not here to witness this monstrosity, honestly. Just opening the door and taking a few steps into the fresher is a feat—while you’re not in any pain and he didn’t leave any marks on you, you just feel… steamrolled. Ran over by a truck. Only having the strength to keep your feet beneath you as you finally move under the water and close the door behind you.

Oh, but this is wonderful. This was such a good idea, he’s so fucking smart. The shower falls warm and lovely against your body, wetting your hair and immediately heating you down to your bones. You don’t move really at all—you kinda just stand there and slouch, closing your eyes against the spray and slowly breathing the mist into your lungs. It feels so nice—not really restorative even though you like that word, it would imply the water provides you with any energy whatsoever. It just feels like a comfort, a relief and sedative for your already wildly fatigued body.

You haven’t been in here for more than a minute or two when knuckles tap gently against the metal walls of the fresher, before the natural bass of Din’s unmodulated voice murmurs from somewhere beyond it. “Hey. Keep your eyes closed.”

How did he know? You figured you’d be way ahead of him. You’re standing but slumped over, wanting nothing more than to just say fuck gravity and pass out right here. The walls are too cold to lean against now that you’re all toasty from the heat and steam, so you’re just unconsciously swaying on your feet, trying to balance the precedence of sleeping versus not falling over. You don’t even comprehend the sudden flip of the light switch overhead beyond the fact that it makes it easier to snooze without being so bright behind your eyelids.

The door eventually opens at the very same time you realize you never answered him, but you just commit to the silence at this point. It’s easy, you like it. Soon you feel warm hands touch your shoulders, slowly spinning you around while you follow and hang your head, your neck not wanting to support it any longer, and then suddenly a bare chest is pressing up against you and powerful arms are wrapping around your body, and you can just lean all of your weight into him while your head rests right here on his shoulder.

He holds you without moving for a long time, keeping you just like this—your ear pressed against his skin while water rains hot and comfortable down your back. Knowing you’re facing one of the walls, you crack your heavy lids just the slightest bit and finally notice the tiny compartment is dim and shrouded—the only light source is a single one coming from somewhere in the hull beyond the partially closed doorway. It’s dark and quiet and you can barely see anything besides the metallic fresher walls and unfocused droplets chasing each other down Din’s naked skin. Just you and him, flowing water with a sheet metal backdrop.

You think you spend an eternity like that and yet you still find yourself wanting another when he finally shifts, reaching over you to grab a bar of his generic soap but making sure to use the arm whose shoulder you’re not currently resting against.

It glides slow and hypnotic down your back, dragging up over your sides and then back down the curve of your spine. He’s so sturdy and he doesn’t say a word while he does it, lathering it along your body and rubbing it into your skin. His bar of soap, not yours. They started out almost the same since you picked them up at the same vendor, but there’s just a slightly bolder and sharper scent to his that you recognize. How the bar is far larger than yours because of how often he’s gone away.

Your eyes droop and you feel the water trail over your lips, dripping down your chin and pooling the dip of his collarbone. The only other time you two shared this fresher was terrifying and he’s rewriting the memories right now, whether consciously or not. Hot water, not freezing cold. Standing upright and supporting you. Heart beating strong under your ear, taking care of you this time until you can care for yourself.

You… you just worry so much more now, it’s becoming an issue. You didn’t realize how much until you nearly lost him, and you know in your heart that he’s just going to go away again. Throw himself into more danger, tempt death as always, risk his life for mere credits while all you can provide in return is this. Skin to skin contact. Someone to hold. Someone who knows him, who knows the way he struggles between reaching out for a softness that life has always denied him and clinging to what is rough and familiar. Someone to remind him that there’s still gentle and forgiving things in this galaxy that won’t disappear when he’s gone, and that he can always come home to them, as long as he can manage to find his way back.

Something sad tugs hard at your chest. You want to tell him not to leave. Again, again—you want nothing more than to beg him to stay. You don’t have anything better to offer instead; if he asked you how it would work, how you imagine your lives would go if he wasn’t hunting quarry on a constant timetable, you’d be hard-pressed. You don’t know. But you know what you want to say, because it’s two words you shouldn’t say but always find yourself needing to say regardless.

Don’t go.

But, instead of two words, you give him three.

Instead of asking him not to leave you again… in the haze and comfort of his arms, you think you just tell him that you love him.

And… you also don’t think the water falling down on the two of you is loud enough to cover it up this time.

It’s not ideal, you know. You know. From his point of view, he just got finished releasing all sorts of pent up tension on you, overwhelming your body with the strength and power of his in a way that normal people wouldn’t take as an expression of affection. But you know him. You know that he finds it much easier to express the things he feels in a physical way, which is why there’s a bar of soap against your back right now instead of his voice in your ear, telling you all the things you’ve always wanted to hear from him in return. You know that sex is how this all began and it’s likely just the closest link between roughness and sweetness that he can really put his hands on, something that can fit him equally as well as it fits you. Love is different, it’s thrilling and scary. Even to someone like him, who lives everyday of his life surrounded by thrilling and scary things, who’s seen more bloodshed and suffering and pain than you can ever even imagine, you know that it’s scary.

Din doesn’t say anything back to your confession, and truthfully, not a single part of you was expecting him to. It wasn’t said so he could say it back. It just is. Some things don’t need explanations, they just are. You’re okay with that.

But, you eventually come to realize that he always waits until you’re just on the very edges of sleep, holding out until your blurry vision and fading consciousness can trick you into thinking you only imagined it. You won’t ever figure out if it’s purposeful or if he just needs that long to find what he wants to say.

Another soft, lilting sentence in a language you wouldn’t be able to translate, even if you could pick out a single word. It sounds so beautiful though, regardless of how mysterious and far away its meaning feels. There’s something hidden underneath. You ache to know what it is.

But you’re so tired. You just whine softly against his shoulder, not being able to transform the thoughts into sentences anymore but hoping he understands regardless. He can’t just resort to bearing his soul in Mando’a all the time now, especially when you’re always on the verge of sleep when he chooses to do so.

But at some point, his arms subtly tighten around you and the pressure is one of the only things that’s keeping you awake anymore.

“I won’t ever ask you to,” he says to you, the quietness of his baritone getting lost in the gentle spray and your looming slumber. “I’m… not allowed to ask. I can’t.”

Your expression twitches just the slightest bit against his shoulder in confusion, wondering distantly what word or sentence you must’ve missed from before that would make him make sense. Was that a translation? Or a continuation?

But then your wet hair is slowly moved away from your nape and his head tilts down, face pressing into your neck and voice lowering until it’s nothing more than a breath against your skin, nothing more than a confession that he couldn’t ever say out loud with his full chest. It’s a secret he only ever wants you to know, a truth he’s choosing to admit to even though you could ruin him with it. You have no idea how much, you won’t know for a long time just how much power he’s giving you by telling you this one very simple thing.

“But whenever you want to look,” Din finally whispers, the only version of I love you too that a Mandalorian knows. “You can.”

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin #fanfic #reader-insert #rough day #no-droids #smut

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