#The flowers want us to have sex! Why? What's the biological reason for that? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bijoumikhawal · 10 months ago

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RE: whole vs mosaic- one of my contentions is that Remara and Garak are foils, for a few reasons. One, both characters are associated with sex/love and death. She tries to seduce him to kill him, and Garak in Andy's writings similarly, has those he desires (sexually or not) or who desire him in some way meet tragedy, as well as these people themselves holding power or violence over him (Barkan, Tain, Palandine, and Pythas) as a Cardassian would for a Bajoran. Two, I feel that ASIT very much implies Garak accidentally repeated Tain’s mistake and Kel is his biological daughter (she's described as broad and bookish, while Palandine and Barkan and both called tall, slender, and athletic. Garak, notably, is a broader man). Even if that isn't the case, Garak is fond of children; Remara is a mother whos children were taken violently, and Garak is a bachelor who is made to harm children (both his second Wire story and his fear that a child may have smelled the deadly flowers at the Romulan estate).

Siddig and Andy read the late night tea scene and it is freely avaliable on YouTube. I mention this because like you, I read the scene as very melancholy, and found the tone they took with it (which still has that in there) very interesting. https://youtu.be/Y4k9ntbGYXI?si=9ycGP4g4rJhN112S

"nature’s perfect right hand men" lol yeah, this is why I have contended that Garak is not cat-like, but instead dog-like.

I also agree very hard that refusing Tain’s power over him is the "betrayal" at hand, especially considering how emotional Garak gets when he denies he betrayed Tain- I don't think he'd act that way about Barkan's death, not to Tain anyway. Also my uncomfortable contention about that scene is that there is a strong sexual undertone to it- Barkan is insulting and attacking Garak on a sexual basis, and the wording used includes words that can be used to describe both pleasure and pain (like "groan"). This goes neatly with the follow up short story to ASIT and The Nexus play, the Calling, and what Garak says about his relationship to Barkan in it (if you want to read that I can point you in the right direction).

I also dislike Castellan Garak <3. I think he'd be bad at it and I rewatched a knights tale and ever after not long after rereading a portion of ASIT and came to the conclusion that stories where an underclass character's happy ending is attaining political power ultimately annoy me if the story does not show how they change things, and I frankly don't find Garak believable as a political revolutionary that takes center stage. I've found the idea of him as a minister of culture or as Kel's speechwriter interesting, but overall I personally don't care to put him in a government role

A Stitch In Time First Read Reactions & Thoughts Monster Post Part 3

Stumbling over the finish line if not in style then with enthusiasm!

Part 1, Part 2

- Odo looked as if he could use a spell in his bucket; I had rarely seen him looking so run-down.

<3 I love one goo man

“I’d better get this information to Captain Sisko,” Odo decided.

“Would you rather I tell him?” I offered. Odo looked positively drained; he needed to return to his liquid state.

Every time Odo is changeling-sleep deprived Garak starts to hear kill bill sirens and flash back to ‘the die is cast’. It is kind of sweet that he seems to be worried for his friend and not trying to gain an advantage or sneak around here tho.

The ironies of the situation both amused and irritated me. Here I was, the invaluable decoder of Cardassian encryptions containing life-and-death information for the Federation—and they won’t trust me with the code to wake up Captain Sisko. Ah well, it was never easy being a Cardassian on this suspended chunk of desolation. And then I laughed out loud. But what about Odo? The last time I looked he was a changeling, a member of the race of Founders that was determined to destroy the Alpha Quadrant. Not only did he have the captain’s wake-up code, he also slept with the station’s second-in-command.

LMAO you know what fair fucking point garak. Tbf I’m sure there are some people who’ve been assuming you’ve been fucking the chief medical officer too

But if Damar had thrown his support to the rebels … if it wasn’t a ploy… I wanted my revenge on him, yes, but not at the expense of liberating Cardassia. And it wasn’t just liberating the planet from the control of a foreign power. It was closer… more personal. I wanted something that was even more difficult to attain—redemption.

The doors opened, and once again I was alert as I stepped into the deserted corridor and moved past the sleeping quarters to my own. It was time, I kept repeating in my head. It was time to take our place among the planets and peoples of the Alpha Quadrant as a civilized and open society. It was time to repair the damage. “A stitch in time saves….” What? What was that expression?

*pats him very gently and lovingly on the head* This man can unironically fit so much character development in him

“You’re Khon-Ma, aren’t you?” She didn’t respond. “Being the only Cardassian on this station, I expected you a long time ago. What kept you?”

She should shoot you actually just for this

I stopped. What’s the point, I thought. All the stories were beginning to run together and they all had the same ending.

Smoking gun of ‘hm I think there might be some unreliable narration still lingering here’ lol. In a way all but openly admitting that like this is probably more like telling the truth for garak than telling the actual truth would be. From how we see him interact with Toran in the show I buy that the emotional truth about this is basically as he tells it tho — I think he’s angry and disgusted with himself more for having been unable to stop something from happening and taking that as being as responsible for it as the asshole who caused it, rather than actively making it happen himself. That’s the kind of pattern he has in so many other places in his life too, trying to navigate in the very limited space and with the very limited agency being submissive to personalities like Tain and Toran leaves you.

“And they were all killed,” she said even more softly.

“End of story, Remara.” I considered telling her how I had exacted my own revenge upon Toran, and that my only regret was that his death hadn’t come sooner… but what was the point? Another treacherous opportunist dies after tearing another hole in the fabric. What’s gained except the potential for more damage? I rose. The station’s gravity felt like it had increased threefold.

“If you’re going to kill me, get it over with. One way or the other I’d like to go to sleep.”

“Who gave the order?” she asked.

“What difference does it make? I did, if you like.”

Remara just looked at me. She lowered the phaser. Part of me was deeply disappointed.

The ‘has he been thinking with his horny brain this whole time or is he passive-actively suicidal’ conundrum. I suppose there’s nothing saying it can’t be both but I also think it’s more on the second side than he’d like anyone to know. I guess there’s no easy way to tell the guy who saved your life that you don’t really care that much for said life most days, and if you were offered some plausible deniability…

“You’re going to have to leave this station. They’ll keep coming after you until someone succeeds. Goodbye, Elim.” She put her hand against the side of my face, and I felt the heat coming through. Perhaps her passion was a curse as a terrorist, but she was a whole person … and she had found redemption.

Chewing on the idea of being a whole person vs. ‘unfinished man’ and ‘mosaic person’

- Gul Toran is someone Tain has warned me to monitor periodically.

Ah so Four Lubak is the future Gul Toran (the asshole in the Natima Lang ep if I remember correctly)! I see. That also means his snarking about Toran being made Gul is entirely performative he’s known about it for years lmao that was literally just to be a bitch yes wonderful

- The fact that Tain has an evil Romulan twin/soulmate and they hate each other fdskjfhdsa

- So interesting that it does take until middle-age and Palandine’s extended presence in his life before Garak’s sense of humor really emerges fully. It seems such an integral part of him in the show, it sure is Something that it basically had to be carefully tended to and supported like a lil flower by careful gardener’s hands (thank you Palandine I’m sorry your life is a nightmare)

- But I must confess that the toast proposed by proconsul Merrok left me feeling much better about the whole affair.

. . .

“At first I couldn’t think why you hated him,” I confessed.

“I don’t hate anyone, Elim,” he carefully explained. “I have a job to do—and sometimes it’s necessary to eliminate those enemies who can’t otherwise be dissuaded. And he was determined to block our interests at every juncture.”

“I don’t hate anyone” says man composed of about 98% hate per volume

“Oh yes, my boy—yes, you did excellent work. A job well done.” He had never complimented me with such unconditional enthusiasm. It was almost a demonstration of paternal pride.

“You see, I had this planned for a long time, Elim. But Tolan wouldn’t agree. He wouldn’t take on the assignment, and he wouldn’t pass on the information. But thankfully he trusted you, Elim.” Tain patted me on the shoulder, which meant I was dismissed.

Weaponizing Tolan’s memory against him. Fucked Up.

- Fear and isolation, Doctor. You can’t have one without the other. Fear isolates and isolation is fear’s natural home. Just as my orchids need carefully prepared soil to protect them against disease and pests, fear needs the isolated circumstances to deepen and grow without connective or relational interference. When fear is allowed to flourish in its dark and lonely medium, then any evil that can be conceived by the fearful imagination will emerge.<

This whole chapter is so fucking good, and it starts slapping right from the beginning. The way this works not only as a description of the larger crimes of Cardassia, but also the shape of his own life.

‘My orchids’ is very sweet, and a phrasing that occurs several times.

My feelings are spent, my moral rationalizations are empty, and I can’t say it’s not my problem when I’m pulling and lifting and throwing bodies of people who once only wanted to go about the business of their lives.

His life has been a series of violent deconstruction followed by reassembly of the broken pieces, and this should have been the most shattering of all but it comes across as almost peaceful. He finally gets to have his soul to himself enough to make something meaningful with it and put it together in his own time and in the shape of his own truth, even in the middle of such a painful realization.

Colonel Kira once told me how many Bajorans died during the Cardassian Occupation, and my mind rejected the figure like a piece of garbage. We’d been in the service of the state, I had told myself, and the state had determined what was necessary. But now I understand why she hated me. More important, I now understand that constant burning, almost insane look in her eyes.

. . .

Most of us who are left, Doctor, are insane. We have to be in order to survive and emerge from our isolation. It’s the only way we can live with the pain of what we did. Or didn’t. Each of us accepts the amount of responsibility we are capable of bearing. Some accept nothing, and these people are quickly swallowed by their isolation, their insanity transformed into a rationalized evil. A smaller group accepts total responsibility, and their insanity is an unbearable burden that cripples and eventually grinds them down. The rest of us carry what we can and leave the rest. For myself, Doctor, when a corpse is too heavy to bury I try to remember to ask someone to help me.

This man can hold so much fucking character development 2 electric boogaloo and HOW!! Imagine early seasons Garak saying anything like this! Even while I’ll also buy that early seasons Garak does have the capacity to get to this point in the end after enough work. AND the way it goes with his dream of Cardassia as a mass grave earlier/later on in the book — which also sort of indicates that the person he’s asked to ‘bury these bodies with’, as it were, before, was specifically Bashir. ‘You taught me to ask for help’. I’m so fucking soft for all the ways Garak is showing him that he touched his life in the very best and most beautiful way anyone could, no matter where they go from here.

- “I don’t know. I suppose I’m just trying to reconcile statistical analysis with Romulan gardens.” We lapsed into a long, stony silence. Usually she knew better than to expect a real answer when she did ask about my working life. We both tried not to venture into certain personal spaces; often the attempt functioned as a barrier. I’m sure she knew that I was more than a data analyst at the Hall of Records. She also understood that the less she knew about what I did the more chance our relationship had to survive. For the same reason I never asked about Lokar. The less information, the less damage if either one of us was betrayed.

Garak that’s kind of sloppy, of course she knows something’s up if you’re making it that easy to figure out lol

Another interesting detail: Palandine seemingly never learns that Tain is Garak’s biological father, then. Very emblematic of the way all those secrets were still getting between them despite their best efforts. And lending even more meaning to the fact that many years later he lets Julian find out in uh perhaps the most direct way possible haha.

“I’m of two minds. I know, that’s just another way of saying that I’m confused.”

Huh. I wonder if the way this is phrased suggests that that’s not a common expression in Cardassian and he’s translating it directly from Standard or something, or that his uh. Mental confusion/dissociation/fragmentation pops up enough that she’s familiar with it already here?

“Yes. What if they’re right? What if they could help us reclaim something noble in ourselves? Where does that leave us?” We stood looking at each other. The night wind gusted through the foliage and I wondered where I’d be if I didn’t have this woman’s friendship.

What a soft way to describe it. Really drives home the like. Wholeness of what she meant to him.

“It was a while ago, Palandine. I don’t know if they’re in the same place … or if they even meet tonight.” Her enthusiasm rendered me as helpless as it did when I first met her.

Julian/Palandine parallels time yet again

I looked at Palandine, and she now radiated with such light that I turned away, inexplicably embarrassed as if I had seen something I shouldn’t.

So sad somehow that they kind of drift apart in this scene, where Palandine finds something that helps her and he mostly seems to come away lost and confused, if cleansed. (and he still can’t cry with someone else in the room)

After Palandine had left, I had spent the rest of the night sitting in the Grounds near the children’s area.

How is this so goddamn sad fhkjshfa. They’re still just children, and no one is going to come pick them up from the playground, no one is going to protect them

- “Yes, of course,” I replied. I took a deep breath, and my disparate parts began to snap back.

Adrift from himseeelf. This is kind of what I meant about Palandine maybe picking up on some of his — this stuff. Which structurally pops back up in The Wire too, with how he tells the stories.

“You look like you’re not eating anything,” Prang observed. If Tain was the father of the Obsidian Order, Prang was its mother.

LMAO. And he’s constantly worried about his saddest son I guess. Tain/Prang most cursed DS9 rarepair idea???

- His other hand was now probing my skull behind the right ear. The man’s ambidexterity was impressive.

Lol diversity win: the mad doctor about to implant you with experimental tech is ambidextrous!

Oh. Oh no it’s the wire time. The fact that he’s one of the first agents fitted with it b/c his hindbrain distress tolerance is too worryingly low for their comfort…

When I tell you that this wire will give you no trouble, as long as you don’t meddle with it, you can believe me. You know that, don’t you, Elim?”

“Yes, I do, Mindur.” The man had never given me anything but superb technology and sound advice. “Please continue,” I submitted.

“Good boy.” Timor thumped my shoulder again.

HORROR SHOW CULTURE ONCE MORE and also. Praise kink revisited and made more interestingly fucked up. Also submission theme thread.

Do you think he’d meddle with the wire eventually even if he hadn’t been exiled. I feel like there’s a non-zero chance of that.

- I remembered the Hebitian frieze and its lush background. Of course we were different people: it was a different world. The more the forests receded, it seems, the more we covered ourselves. Their world didn’t need an agent of the Obsidian Order to investigate a group of prominent Cardassians who “happened” to be spending their vacation together. It didn’t have Enabran Tain targeting one of his bitterest enemies, Procal Dukat, a powerful member of the Central Command. And I’m certain it didn’t have fathers who refused to acknowledge their sons. If we lived on the next spiral of the cycle of life, how did we know it wasn’t going downward?

a) ‘what if the glass is not only half-empty but also leaking’ yes very cheery Garak and b) one of the rare times he lets not just his bitterness with Tain but also his longing to be acknowledged by him fully shine through. To me it seems like that’s the one thing that’s still too raw for him to dwell on in this narrative. He mostly doesn’t get into or sit with the pretty obvious fact that he loved Tain, and desperately wanted Tain to love him too. You can see the traces through the whole thing of just how angry he is with him now that he’s dead (GOOD! HE SHOULD BE! HE SHOULD BE ANGRIER; IF ANYTHING!), but that particular element of it seems too vulnerable to keep in sight most times

- PYTHAS IS BACK BA-BEY!

His grace was even more refined as he moved to the small house that was our assigned base of operations. If anything could have taken my mind off downward spirals it was the appearance of Pythas.

And the mutual crush endures (also with me I love a sneaky little twink)

“What was good for you, Elim, was usually agreeable to me as well,” he wryly observed.

The way Pythas is like Garak’s shadow — except in Garak’s eyes he does everything ‘right’, he doesn’t seem to have that same aching need for connection, he follows his orders easily, he’s perfect and he reaps the rewards Garak never gets. Garak never even resents or begrudges him any of it. And yet they end up in basically the same place when all’s said and done, in the ruins of Cardassia, and Garak might even win out b/c his trials with the mortifying ordeal of being known mean he has some people in his life he’s starting to truly trust, the way Pythas seems to with Nal as well. Thinking. A lot of things.

Over the years, his modest demeanor and quiet ways had turned him into more of a solitary person than I ever was. I had learned to withdraw my presence as a tool, but I was always aware of my need for contact, and that my value as an operative lay in my ability to engage others in a nonthreatening manner that drew them out. Pythas had learned to withdraw his presence as a way of life—and he moved through the world like a shadow. I was not surprised that Tain had recruited him for the “invisibles.” It took a special person to be able to operate in such unrelentingly anonymous circumstances—no family, no fixed base or identity—and there was no doubt in my mind that he was one of the most brilliant agents in the Order. Our relationship picked right up where it had left off at Bamarren. Other than Prang, I have never met anyone where so much was communicated with so few words. His eyes had a depth and eloquence that told me everything I wanted to know. How ironic that my lust for conversation was satisfied by someone who rarely spoke.

Ah, so if Palandine is the proto-Julian, as it were (and Parmak is the silver fox Ersatz Julian), Pythas is definitely the anti-Julian as well as Garak’s shadow hahaha.

- Garak is undeniably a city boy at the end of the day haha. Pythas help him out there in the jungle he doesn’t belong here I understand why you’re so worried

- In a way it was touching: the old man reverting to the mind control exercises he had learned as a child.

Garak. The warning bells. Should they perhaps be ringing merrily in your mind at this combination of words and letters. Oh well.

- “Yes, it’s me.” I squatted so that I was at eye level. I tried to soften myself, round off all the sharp edges.

Yes yes yes this is such a good description of that Thing he does. His ‘just a lil guy/tailor/gardener/funny spy man’ move

‘Carriers of disease’ and spreading poison motifs are back. Dukat Sr. uses it here to describe cowardice/Federation ideals/hashtag the SJWs/the forces that threaten to disrupt the status quo of the fascist state.

- I left the containment field in place and stepped outside to clear my head. No matter how objective I tried to remain, I could never remain totally unaffected by another man’s horror. Fear was a contagious disease.

This seems right to me — I don’t think anyone who could truly shrug off other people’s suffering would have to make up such webs of justification and alienation as Garak does to do what he does. Maybe that empathy is why he’s so good at it and also why it messes him up so bad over time

His *Working 9-5 slowed down & with reverb plays softly in the background* vibe about it is undeniably kind of funny tho

Contagious disease thread cont too, and not the first time fear is spoken of that way

“Who are you?” he asked for the second time, fighting against the toxin’s effect. This was one tough old warrior.

“Your worst nightmare,” I replied.

“Ah,” he croaked. “Then Tain sent you.”

- YOUR WORST NIGHTMARE fhdkjshasjh good for you Pythas isn’t there to hear it that is so embarrassing Garak (affectionate)

- Garak dreaming of being buried with the still-whispering mass grave of Old Cardassia… what the fuck I don’t think I’d sleep ever again after that haha

Of all of the people he dreams of, most of them are dead (or potentially soon about to be dead? Not entirely sure how that works out for Mila in particular. And I guess we technically don’t know if Calyx is dead, but after so long it seems very likely), except as we find out later Pythas. And Palandine isn’t there.

NO. NO YOU CANNOT TELL ME THE FIRST THING HE DOES IS CALL JULIAN IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FUCKING NIGHT W H A T

“It’s not a medical emergency. Please, I realize this is an imposition.” There was a silence and I heard another voice in the background. Ezri Dax. A muffled conversation. The Doctor cleared his throat again.

“I’ll be right over,” he said.

This is so melancholy I want to disappear into a puddle of quiet yearning and never come back to solid form just put me in a bucket like the Odo.

This is also the first time in this book Garak has asked Julian for help rather than Julian trying to approach him to give him help (and being rebuffed). He’s called for and he comes :’)

He gave me his puzzled look, which wrinkled his brow. I was always amazed at how deep the furrows were for one so young.

Soft little detail time yet again. Garak has been sitting across Julian for years just looking at this face and picking out new details.

“ ‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.’” he quoted.

“Who’s that?” I asked.

“Shakespeare,” the Doctor replied.

“Hmmh.” I nodded in agreement, surprised that for once the author of the politically misguided Julius Caesar made sense.

Fhdskhfskjdfhsdjak you say that as if you didn’t quote the politically misguided Julius Caesar to your father’s face on a burning spaceship as you for the first time truly saw that he was as fallible as anyone else and invoking Bashir’s name in the process Garak

“Of who we are, Doctor. Our being. Human being. Cardassian being. But we have become these beings—are becoming, always in the process of becoming—on these other dimensional levels that are not limited by the measures of time and space. And the great determining factor of our becoming is relationship. Unrelated, I become unrelated. Alienated. Opposed, I become an antagonist. Unified, I become integrated. A functioning member of the whole.” The Doctor was thoughtful; his previous agitation had dissolved.

“You’re a scientist, Doctor. You have a deep understanding of this level. I don’t mean just the mechanics. You understand about relationship, the laws that attract and repel, the combinations that nurture and poison. Health and disease. Integrity and breakdown.”

“In your dream,” he said, “I presided over the burial of yourself and the people you were most intimately related to. Why?”

“You said, ‘for the good of the quadrant…. they must never be allowed to return.’ Why would you say that?” I asked.

“I can only think that….” He stopped and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Garak. This is not easy for me. I still can’t help thinking this was your dream. Even if I was invited … you were the playwright.”

“Yes, but put yourself in that part. Why would you bury these people and cover up the pit?” The Doctor looked at me in frustration. “Please. Indulge me. It’s vital that I have your answer.”

“If you and the others were carriers of some disease,” he shrugged. “In our fourteenth century on Earth there was a terrible plague, the Black Plague, which wiped out half of Europe’s population. People believed that the dead bodies had to be destroyed, burned … buried … because it was the only way to prevent the spread of the disease….”

. . .

The Doctor was studying me with an interest in his face I hadn’t seen in years.

“Well? Is it the Black Plague, Doctor? Or just the ramblings of an old spy on the eve of battle?”

“You’re an amazing man, Garak.”

“And my gratitude to you can never be adequately expressed. But I shall try,” I promised.

“Please. What have I done?” he asked genuinely.

“That time you extended yourself so generously and found a way to remove the wire from my brain without killing me …”

“I would have done that for anyone,” the Doctor interrupted.

“I’m sure that’s true, but that’s not what I mean. All during the time the device was deteriorating, I was convinced I was going to die.”

“You were even resigned to it,” he reminded me.

“I was also convinced that it was all a dream, and I kept asking myself what you were doing there.”

The Doctor was puzzled. “But what you just told me, that our dreams are just another way we relate … ?”

“I had forgotten. That point of my life was perhaps the lowest. I had forgotten many things. When I ‘woke up’ and realized that because of you I was going to live—at that moment, I began to recollect some valuable information.”

“About dreams?” he asked.

“Yes. But specifically about relationships, and how they set the course of our lives. You not only ’saved’ my life, you also made it possible for me to live it.” The Doctor’s face darkened.

“What is it, Doctor?”

“The time I wounded you in that holosuite program ….”

“Yes,” I prompted expectantly.

“I never apologized for my action.”

“And you must never apologize!” I urged.

“Please, Garak. This is not the time to give me a lesson on how to behave like a hardened spy….”

“No, no, no. On the contrary, when you shot me, my dear friend, that was the next step in my process of remembering. I was going to sacrifice the others, the people you considered your friends, because that was the only way I could be sure to save myself. You opposed me. Indeed, you would have killed me if necessary.”

“I’m sure it would never have gotten to that point,” the Doctor muttered.

“You would have killed me,” I repeated. “For the greater good.” The cliche suddenly had another meaning for both of us. “This is my last trip to Cardassia. I’m not returning. You were in the dream for a very specific reason. Once again, you helped me remember. Thank you, Julian.” I put my hand on his shoulder.

“You’re welcome,” he smiled warmly. “And by the way. It wasn’t the dead bodies that carried the disease. It was later determined that it was the rats feeding on the bodies who were the transmitters.”

“Then I guess we’ll go to Cardassia and look for the rats,” I said.

“Be careful, Garak. And look after my hot-headed friend, will you?”

“Don’t worry. We’ll look after each other,” I answered him. He moved to the door. “Did you really have a dream about Hippocrates?” I asked.

“Yes. Actually I did.”

“Why am I not surprised?” I replied.

First name use…

Disease contagion imagery, and this time it’s very clearly symbolizing y’know the fascism of it all. Weirdly moving that Julian takes a moment to gently imply that the disease isn’t inherent in the people Garak loves and has loved (or in him, for that matter), but in the conditions that created them.

There’s so much going on here idk if I could start to pick it apart yet, I may need to let this percolate in my skull for a while before I know what to say haha. I think part of it is Garak telling Julian to never apologize for showing him the full truth of himself (not least because that also lets Garak see the full truth of himself in turn), and Julian finally relaxing about. Something. He’s been ashamed about something he can finally let go of.

‘I thought it was a dream, and kept asking myself what you were doing there’.......I will never emotionally recover from this I want to write fic specifically about this lord have mercy on me

- *Tain Voice* with your hippie bullshit and your women!

*tiny garak voice* woman…

Over the years we rarely met outside his office; only an emergency or drastic change of plan would alter the routine. Now as we walked through the late morning sun and pedestrians at a leisurely pace I experienced a connection to the surrounding bustle and energy in a way that felt almost normal. A father and his son taking a stroll. Tain was heavier, and I could hear his breathing labor with the effort. He’s an old man, I thought. He’s mortal. I’d never thought about Tain in this way, and I became protective as we approached an aggressive knot of pedestrians at the edge of the Coranum Sector. One man was about to run Tain down when I intercepted his path and bumped him to the side. I ignored his challenge as we continued. “Yes, Elim. I’m getting old.” It wasn’t the first time he picked up my thoughts; this was how our conversations usually went.

HE BECAME PROTECTIVE

You know the way he keeps touching Tain’s arm and shoulder in The Die is Cast, like he’s steadying him or about to step in front of him to protect him or something? Yeah… he burns his hands on this stove over and over and over but he can’t stop trying to touch it :(

This was so typical of his manipulation. Just moments ago I was feeling protective of this benign old man, my father. And now… the irony filled my mouth with a bitter taste.

This is always & forever first and foremost an Enabran Tain hate zone

He moved to the covered seating area, where the sun filtered through the old vegetation. I had never been here with anyone but Palandine. With a long sigh he settled into a patch of sunlight on the low bench.

He’s like a fucking strangle vine he just winds himself into every single part of garak’s existence and chokes the life out of it

“Yes,” I answered. The benign mask was slipping, and I began to see the depth of his anger.

. . .

“You don’t know!” he repeated with a disgust I hadn’t heard since I was a boy and failed to record all the details of one of our walks.

Oof. Ow. Ack.

“And all this while, instead of giving up your life to the work, hardening yourself into a leader who could inspire others and expand the vision, you’re playing out Hebitian fantasies with another man’s wife!”

“Yes. Just like Tolan!” I exploded. “Perhaps he was my real father after all.”

Tain rose like a man many years younger and grabbed my shoulder in a powerful grip. His anger was now a murderous fury and it was all I could do to hold my stance against the pain of his grip. His cold eyes told me I had betrayed him. Worse, I had failed him. He let go of my shoulder and turned away from me. My entire body trembled. When he turned back he had regained his composure.

The biggest sin Garak could commit in Tain’s eyes is to dare to separate himself from him in any way; to be anything but his mirror, to act as if he has any claim to his own soul. I feel like more than what happens with Barkan right after this, this is what Tain considers the real betrayal.

Tain has never needed to hit him or become physically violent with him to keep him under control ever since he was a very small child, he’s relied on the terrorizing force of emotional violence. And as is so often the case with emotional violence, it’s been insidious and hidden enough, kept to private spaces and in the shadows, that Tain can pretend at plausible deniability b/c like. Who’s Garak even going to tell about it, for the longest time, if a miracle happened and he even found he could? Mila, who has joined the war on emotional violence on the side of emotional violence since probably before Garak was even born? (For understandable psychological reasons, but in unforgivable ways in the role of a parent.) I wonder if ‘making him’ lose control and expose himself and his violence for what it is like this (in public, even!) is also part of what he can’t forgive Garak for. This ah ‘slip-up’ is the first big crack we see in Tain’s image of perfect implacable control (which is very much still the impression you’re left with in Garak’s stories in The Wire too), in the same way that Improbable Cause/The Die Is Cast completely breaks that image down. He is getting old. He stayed in the game too long in the end and his iron grip is starting to slip and everything he’s forced to stay in place starts to slip out of that order with it.

Characterizing what Tolan was doing as ‘living with another man’s wife’ is SUCH a subtle burn tho lol like yeah maybe after the strictures of our society you SHOULD have married the mother of your child instead of outsourcing all your decency to the said mother’s BROTHER, Tain

Aside from anything else going on here (and there is a lot going on)... does Tain even know who Garak is at all, just on a personal level? Why, after knowing him for like 40+ years at this point, presumably, would you expect him to have aspirations or the natural inclination towards leadership, have you ever met him??? He’s one of nature’s perfect right hand men (well. Maybe not entirely nature’s, Tain did this to him very deliberately on top of some basic natural tendencies lol), he’ll get you whatever you ask of him and I think organizing a team under him for you could be part of that when need be, but never has he shown the least inclination towards leadership. (In fact, despite longing for the recognition coming out on top would get him from daddy I mean his peers, he seems vaguely relieved each time Pythas gets to sit in the big important chair instead of him.) He isn’t Tain’s mirror, for all he dutifully tries to move in the ways that make it seem like he is. And Tain should be smart enough to know that, if the narcissism didn’t completely blot out his sight in this situation, and/or it’s just the ‘setting him up to fail and then acting outraged when he does’ pure maliciousness reaching its apex.

(In a kinder time and a kinder world I think Garak could have a real nice time being one of nature’s extremely devoted Partners rather than simply right hand man. And I would like to see it please)

“From now on you will report to Corbin Entek.”

Oh, that’s the Entek of Second Skin, probably. Wish you a very ‘get vaporized for not knowing when to quit’ in the future entek

As I watched him leave, I felt completely empty and wondered how I could feel such emptiness. This sudden, wrenching reversal of fortune … everything changed beyond recognition…. And yet … there was no anger, no self-pity … no fear. Only release. Release from the secrets. Release from the limbo where, ever since I was a boy, I had been trapped between imposed obligations and feelings of mysterious longing mixed with shame. I felt empty … and free.

Listen to that voice maybe garak (not that I think there IS any way out at this point or that there ever has been in truth, that’s kind of the tragedy of the whole thing, tain would never ever have let go of him)

- Mila goodbye time:

“I’m afraid we’re not leaving you much,” she said. “The furnishings have already been taken away.”

“I wasn’t expecting anything.” I tried to keep all irony out of my tone.

“It’s your choice, Elim.” Her voice was just as neutral. “The house is yours to live in.”

Mother and son having a Carefully Extremely Civil conversation lol

“Do you know the circumstances … Mila?”

She looked at me. It was the first real contact we’d had in many years. She nodded slowly.

“Before I make my ‘choice,’ I need your help,” I said, surprised that the request emerged so simply. I wasn’t as angry with her as I wanted to be. Mila saw this and softened perceptibly.

This running thread that almost despite himself he understands and empathizes with her and her situation too much to be as angry with her as he probably should be. He understands her better than she understands him (than she could allow herself to understand him, even if she had the ability to).

I think that these apparently contradictory elements of his personality are part of what makes him feel so real in some ways, too — interpersonally he can be incredibly petty and jealous and judgemental AND almost absurdly forgiving and generous, sometimes seemingly simultaneously, somehow. The classic containing multitudes meme but like forreals tho haha. That is what real people are like too.

“I love her, Mila.”

“You’re a grown man, Elim.” I couldn’t decide whether she thought I didn’t know this or was seeing it for the first time herself.

“And Palandine’s a grown woman,” I replied.

“I don’t care about her. It’s you! You have to learn…” She broke off and passed me a cup which exuded the herbal aroma I’ve always associated with her and Tolan. Bitterbark and sweet groundroot. Moist rich soil.

“To control myself?” Mila blew on her tea. I shrugged at the obvious irony; I didn’t want to get into a fight.

. . .

Mila sat on a bin and sipped her tea. She avoided my look. As I positioned another bin across from her, I experienced a deep pain in my shoulder. It was still throbbing.

“Tain’s angry … with me. He wants me never to see her again and … to kill Barkan.” Still she avoided looking at me. “But you know this, don’t you? And you know what’s possible. Because you have your own … thoughts about this. Don’t you Mila?” I persisted.

Again she jerked away from me. Tea from her cup slopped onto the floor. “There’s no time, Elim.” She put the cup down, wiped her hands on the protective smock she wore, and looked for something to clean the floor with. “There’s no time for this.”

The mother/child relationship here is… y’know I talk a lot about Garak’s daddy issues for obvious reasons, but the fact that his mother recoils in fear when he tries to engage some sliver of real emotional intimacy with her prrrrrobably did some similar amounts of shaping him huh haha. (and he does this too in many ways — that’s partially where his trouble with Julian comes from in this book, whenever Julian tries to get too close Garak flinches away or counterattacks, for all that he clearly longs for it as well.)

The roundabout way you can tell her love for him even so tho. ‘I don’t care about her’. Palandine is not her baby, Elim, you are. Mila hasn’t been left with the luxury of love to spare for someone she doesn’t even know when you’re setting yourself up for destruction right in front of her eyes….

“I mean it, Mila. I would. But I think about her, feel her, all the time. Especially when I’m alone.”

Palandine/Bashir parallels once more and I really mean it!! There used to be a little Palandine in his head the way there’s a little Julian in there now. (and sadly she doesn’t seem to be there anymore, or maybe he’s just integrated what he got from her and let the rest go for both of their sakes, the same way he let Mila the regnar go when it was time.)

“Sacrifices?” In frustration Mila took off her smock to wipe the tea from the floor. “Elim, you amaze me.” Shaking her head, she got down on her knees and began scrubbing vigorously, as if the spilled drops of tea were hostile agents capable of spreading disease and destruction.

“Really? Well, I’m pleased I still have the ability—”

“Sacrifices,” she hissed, her control escaping like steam from a narrow rift. “What was the name of that book you once gave me? When you first came back from Bamarren. The one you proclaimed as the greatest Cardassian novel ever written and insisted that we read it.” Mila was still on her knees, but now I was the offending spot she vigorously rubbed with her words and eyes. “Generations of one family, each faced with the same choice at a crucial moment. Do they serve their personal needs or do they serve future generations? Do they choose the comfort of their own lives over the life of the state and its mission? I read it, Elim. You told me to and I did.”

“The Never-Ending Sacrifice,” I answered.

“Yes. That’s the one.” She made a sighing sound as she stood up. Mila was heavier now, and moved with greater deliberation. She, too, had grown old. “I suggest you reread it.”

“Tain always came first, didn’t he? I suppose that was your never-ending sacrifice.” I no longer reined in the irony.

I’m CRYING this is SUCH a mom thing to do. Her teen son came home with a book he waxed poetic about and she read it to try to understand him and never told him until now.

Also: disease contagion theme thread! To Mila, it seems to be tied in with the sentiment reading of it — the way her child’s suffering stains all her safe stable justifications and rationalizations that she needs to stay alive in this system. The remaining humanity that can’t be completely stamped out, even by Tain and a lifetime of fuckery. The ‘imperfections’ of life that can’t be subsumed completely into order.

Garak I think it’s better if you don’t recommend that book to people it clearly leads to disappointing interpersonal outcomes every time haha

“Tolan understood and accepted his obligations,” Mila said coldly. “But he was sentimental. Like you. That was the one thing Enabran worried about.”

I smiled in sad recognition. Sentimental. Yes, Tain and Mila had definitely shared their confidences and judgments with each other.

“But I don’t blame Tolan. He was a good man.” Mila watched me as I rose.

“Yes. So you keep saying.” I wanted to leave.

“She’s nothing but trouble for you, Elim. End it now. Do what Enabran says and reclaim your rightful place.”

“My place,” I repeated.

“Now, Elim. Otherwise you’re in real danger,” she warned with a certainty that reminded me of the time she’d brought me to Tain after I’d left Bamarren. Mila always knew what was at the heart of the never-ending sacrifice.

“Thank you for your help,” I said, too weary for irony.

“What did you expect from me?”

“To be honest, I can’t remember,” I answered. “Have a pleasant trip.” I smiled and bowed.

“What did you expect from me?”/“To be honest, I can’t remember,” is THE realest description I’ve seen of a mother/child relationship. This might say more about me than I should be comfortable with probably but still.

“Let Limor know if you’ll be living here.” I nodded. Yes, I thought, that would be my answer. My choice. She shook out her smock to determine whether or not to put it back on.

“Mila.” She looked at me and took a deep breath, as if preparing herself for my question.

“Who was Tolan?”

“My brother.” She decided to wear the smock, and I left.

I am SO FUCKING SAD. She puts the smock back on. That’s the closest thing to keeping either of them she gets to have, just the second hand reminder that they were there, small and innocuous enough that no one will know and no one can blame her. In the end Tain takes everything else, and she lets him because it’s the only way to survive him. GET OUT OF THERE ELIM PLEASE

- On an impulse, instead of leaving immediately, I went down the corridor to Tain’s old office. The door was open, and I stopped at the threshold just as Pythas looked up from a now much cleaner desk. He smiled shyly and stood up.

“Please come in, Elim,” he offered. What surprised me was how pleased I was to see him. Just as I had felt he was the only other person who deserved to be One Lubak, I now believed he was the only other person who deserved to occupy this office.

He smiled shyly did he fhskja. Also Garak’s enduring lack of bitterness towards Pythas is amazing. ‘Yeah I would be mad but he really is that good if it had to be anyone it should be him’

- She stopped just short of my covering shrub, and the sight of her face shocked me. It was swollen and bruised. One eye was completely closed, and the other contained enough pain for ten. It took every bit of my willpower not to reach out and hold her. Her one eye held mine, I knew she wanted to tell me something so important that she was willing to wait all night if necessary.

I’m so fucking glad Barkan is about to eat it for good. I only wish it could have gone slower and more painfully for him.

I wanted to laugh, and it took a concerted effort to gather my disparate parts in order to integrate my will.

‘Disparate parts’ motif (dare we say mosaic motif?) detected

“At least the smile’s gone,” the first voice said. I was fully awake now.

Barkan’s life is just being haunted by fifty shades of Garak’s shit eating grin apparently

“Flaunting your ‘relationship’ in public like infatuated schoolchildren.”

“Yes, I suppose it would have been wiser to behave like experienced adulterers,” I replied with a sigh.

“You’re the lowest form of scavenger, Elim. You have no attachments of your own, and so you feed on the emotional vulnerabilities of others.

. . .

“But you’re a failure, Elim. You even failed in your attempt to assassinate me.”

“I didn’t fail with Palandine,” I said quietly.

LMAO gottem

The chemical makeup of Garak’s brain during Barkan’s beating should probably have been studied by science it must be the strangest rave in there

The others were there—my fellow travelers, their voices murmuring tonelessly, producing a steady sound that permeated the medium and intensified our connection. Their voices speaking to me. Their faces, serene and loving, illuminating the darkness as they floated by. Everyone I have ever known. Family. Faces from childhood. Bamarren. People I had known briefly. People I have known forever. Loved. Hated. We were all just together now, sharing the same nurturing medium as we traveled along our currents until we gradually separated.

This… near-death hallucination or spiritual experience or whatever it is vs. his mass grave dream later… very birth vs. death themed

Faces formed and reformed. Each one superimposed on the next in a long line emerging from blackness. Maladek. Merrok…. The molecular structure of one giving way to the next…. Procal Dukat. Tolan. Floating into focus, receding back into the darkness. I shook my head, trying to stop the flow. The Hebitian mask. My face. I grabbed my “face” and screamed into it. The flow stopped. The molecules rushed together and instantly formed Barkan Lokar’s death mask.

I think maybe something came a tiny little bit completely untethered in his head in a way it’s been threatening to for a long time in this moment. It may just be my imagination tho who’s to say

- “Elim Garak. How the mighty have fallen. Welcome to Terok Nor.”

“Oh, I try to visit even our humblest outposts, Dukat.”

“This is going to be more than a visit, trust me. You’ll soon wish that the execution had not been commuted.”

a) ah garak/dukat sniping my old friend b) It seems Tain never spoke to him in that whole process, so that time in the park was probably the last time before ‘Improbable Cause’?. I’m only surprised he didn’t give Dukat the neutral face of displeasure to convey to Garak second hand honestly

- “I’m sure you gave him a more ennobling position,” I said.

“He was executed,” the toady replied.

“A promotion of sorts,” I muttered. “Certainly in this place.”

The passionate enduring Garak/Terok Nor hateship off to an immediate and roaring start

- Real ‘he gave them the heebie jeebies. He had nothing else left to give’ vibes on garak in this part of his life

- He arched his brows in a manner that told me he’d worked long and hard in front of a mirror.

There’s always time to appreciate some good Dukat dunking

“Your life means nothing to me. Just as my father’s meant nothing to you.”

“I beg your pardon? Do I know your father?” Dukat made a move to grab me and immediately stopped himself. I was impressed by his self-control; I knew how much energy fueled his hatred.

“No offense,” I went on, further testing his control. “Of course, Procal Dukat was a famous military figure. We all mourned his passing. But I never had the pleasure personally….”

At his most miserable, but also his funniest. It IS really interesting that his humor only really reaches its current state here, when he’s lost Palandine and everything else in his life. It’s almost like the only remaining way to be close to her.

No, I decided that I was not going to sacrifice myself to Dukat’s desire for revenge. I would do this work; I would do it so well as to become indispensable to the station… and I would survive. I refused to be buried alive in this humiliation.

‘Sort of suicidal: yes; willing to go down in history as one of Dukat’s Ws… fuck no’

- I pick up their garments and mend them flawlessly. When they complain that the price is steep (because I’m treated like a slave doesn’t mean I’m going to start undervaluing my work), I just give them the smile—the smile she taught me.

Fdsahfasj hilarious. You go Garak you know your worth

- (About Pythas and Palandine) At this moment I am almost afraid to discover that they’d survived. A part of me has wanted to bury that part of my life. The defenses I set up to survive my exile are obviously still intact.

I am often joined on my walks by Dr. Parmak. He’s a charming conversationalist, with a first-rate mind. His perspectives are always provocative. He does, however, have a tendency to proselytize for Alon Ghemor and the “Reunion Project” (the name they’ve given their group to remind people of the principles that formed the original Union). Whenever we encounter other pedestrians along our route, Parmak engages them and attempts to win them over to the Reunion side. This often makes for spirited exchanges, and although I am subjected to the opinions of people who should be given a new brain, I rather enjoy this peripatetic politicking. It’s something I would never have done on my own. In some respects he is so much like you, Doctor. If I’ve found someone’s opinion insufferably boring, he’ll kindly but sternly lecture me on the value of tolerance.

The wistful longing of ‘in some respects he’s so much like you’. ‘Although i am subjected to the opinions of people who should be given a new brain’. ‘Charming conversationalist’, is he. Garak you are a nonsense person and I adore you

One day I asked him how he had been brought to Enabran Tain’s attention. He never struck me as being a dangerous radical. It turns out that he was Tain’s personal physician, and that the great man had him interrogated because, the Doctor assumed, “he was concerned that I was in an ideal position to assassinate him.”

“I think he was more threatened by the fact that you were intimate with his weaknesses,” I pointed out.

“Well, certainly his physical infirmities,” he admitted.

“Which are also a man’s weaknesses,” I reminded him.

“The paranoia, the secrets, the power he held….” The doctor shook his head. “He must have been a difficult man to work for.” I smiled at his understated tact.

“He once tried to have me killed,” I said.

“Really? What did you do, Elim?”

“I survived.” The Doctor gave me a confused look.

“Survived … what?” he asked.

“Working for my father,” I replied. The Doctor stopped and just looked at me. His former fear of my eyes was long gone.

“A father who would murder his own son?” The idea horrified him. We were in the Barvonok Sector, where the tall structures of business and finance once dominated. “Oh, my dear Elim,” he said, this time with an empathy that stripped me of any illusions I had about Enabran Tain as a father. Surrounded by the piles of debris, oppressed by the low leaden sky, I finally began to surrender to the loneliness and loss that has preyed upon my dreams ever since I can remember. Even nothing is better than the ideas that have brought us here.

Go on without me I’ll be over here crying my eyes out

- I wonder if Limor Prang was one of the people killed in Tain’s Obsidian Order purge in Improbable Cause. If he was still alive that seems pretty likely huh. Well. RIP terrifying team mom I guess.

- Garak got his business up and running for real through a deal with Quark! Puts some of their interactions into perspective haha

I don’t do well with the kind of emotional exchanges humans seem to engage in regularly, and I have little sympathy for those who confuse the responsibilities of family with their duty to the state; but I confess that I am deeply moved by this woman’s plight.

Well it’s good the guy you have a thing for was raised British then he’ll probably feel pretty much the same way you’re perfect for each other

At one point she looked at me and asked me to hold her. I did. As I tentatively put my arms around her, I was so afraid of her need that I tried to keep her body at a distance. She would have none of it. She collapsed against me, and the sobs that convulsed and rolled through her body found correspondence in mine. I bit my tongue until I could taste blood in the effort not to surrender. Gratefully, the door to the Promenade was closed.

He keeps claiming he doesn’t care for the human tendency towards displays of emotionality even as we see it draw him in like a stupid horny sentimental moth to the flame repeatedly. The lizard doth protest too much methinks

- Unless I have business I rarely go to Quark’s; I have little tolerance for noise and stupidity. So when he saw me he assumed that I had another proposition, and I observed him shift into his engage mode.

Fun to see how this changes over the years, then! By the ca. Season 7 part of the book he has a few regular tables and everything. Also isn’t it so sweet that his kind of snotty attitude about this has not changed at all since Bamarren haha <3

- “The dead are dead. Those of us left—who believe in the ideals that have guided our race for millennia—are faced with the threat of utter annihilation by the very disease that has brought us to this sad place. Federation ideas will finish the work the Dominion began.”

Disease/contagion imagery (This is Legate Parn speaking, and he’s basically espousing the same view as Dukat Sr. As far as he’s concerned the call is not and never has been coming from inside the house thank you ever so much lol)

On the other side of Madred was Nal Dejar, a sharp-faced, saturnine woman who had been a member of my last cell at the Order. She once came to Deep Space 9 on an assignment with two scientists, and refused to make any contact with me. Judging from her averted look, she was still refusing. Next to her was a man with a severely disfigured face that was still recovering from what appeared to be burns. One eye was completely covered, and I was careful not to be rude in my inspection.

OH so it’s the lady who came along with Gilora and Ulani! The one who does not care for foreign food

Gul Ocett was persuasive in her quiet and reasoned strength. Indeed, the irony, Doctor, is that she was espousing the very argument I had made to you any number of times. Even now there was a part of me that accepted the logic of her argument, especially when coming from someone who was neither a fool nor an opportunist.

While you were stealth mentoring Julian in having enough spysmarts not go and get his beautiful twink ass killed at the first opportunity he was stealth mentoring you in the political and ideological underpinnings of democracy and the possibility of being loved BITCH!!!!

I simply smiled at him, genuinely amused by his amateur attempts to discredit me. I was surprised by my responses. I was here to play the role of double agent, and I found that as the meeting went on I didn’t have the energy for the requisite guile and misdirection.

Fdkjfhdsa ‘Aw. That’s cute’. He just doesn’t have it in him to work up the energy for cloak and dagger bullshit and it’s so good and so funny

And then a strange sensation went through me, Doctor. I looked at the faces of these people. Here we are, I thought, sitting in the basement of a ruined civilization and conducting business as if nothing significant had changed. The enemies were still the same, somewhere “out there,” plotting how to “destroy our character” and colonize us with their political system. And we were down in the basement with our own plots and shifting alliances, tenaciously holding on to the very ideas that had brought us here. But what ideas, Doctor? There’s nothing left. Only fantasies of power. These faces with their masks. With the ironic exception of the disfigured face, the masks hadn’t changed. They reflected the usual range of hidden agendas, each competing for dominance and ascendancy with an energy commensurate to the amount of fear and self-loathing that fueled and motivated that person. I started to laugh.

Amazing showstopping revolutionary good for you Garak

It was him, Doctor. It was Pythas.

EIGHT MY BELOVED WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE

“Thank you, Gul Madred, but I can find my way out.” I bowed to the company, and turned my back on them.

I continue to be so proud of him I have no words. And also this is why I don’t like Castellan Garak as a concept AT ALL. Leave him alone to his orchids and sewing and doctor fucking he’s been through enough he doesn’t need that in his life anymore he can do other things to help. Parmak and Julian would stage an intervention.

- Oh my GOD the cardassians literally just left terok nor without him overnight like Sid’s family in Ice Age fhdskjafh

Garak has been combining the wire AND being a barely functional alcoholic all this time. So at any given time in the first two season the chances that he is not only high but also profoundly drunk are overwhelmingly likely. This explains a lot.

Rom had a sensitivity, almost a delicacy that was totally lacking in his brother. Was there such a thing as a typical Ferengi? Most people judged him to be simple, as if simplicity was somehow a substandard quality.

Aw. Also maybe some hints as to his reconciliation with Tolan’s memory.

“Well, Rom, the trousers and tunic fit quite well, don’t you think?” I pulled the tunic down at the back. “Don’t wear it so far up on the neck; it ruins the line. And I’d be grateful if you’d tell any interested parties that indeed I’m still here and very much open for business.”

“Oh, yes … yes! And I like….” Rom made a broad, awkward gesture toward his new ensemble. I thanked him, and we walked out onto the Promenade, as if it were just another business day. We said goodbye, and I watched him march proudly through the ragged celebrants. I had a fondness for him. It was an odd relief, especially at this moment, to converse with someone who literally meant everything he said.

T________________________T surprise most wholesome dynamic continues to wreck me.

He stood for a moment, studying me, trying to divine why I had not been allowed to join the withdrawal. Unlike the others who assumed that because I was a Cardassian I had a choice, Odo knew that I’d been abandoned.

“Was there any damage or theft?” he asked.

“No,” I answered. I knew little about Constable Odo, but I was confident that he would never ask me questions that went beyond his function as security chief. He kept his distance and carried himself like someone who understood exile.

Odo appreciation moment as this is his last appearance in the book. Here’s to the small part of the fascist hivemind that harnessed those impulses towards the aim of becoming the world’s best and beigest mall cop. Unproblematic? No. But sometimes you simply love a good problem.

The fact that the narrative of this section ends right before Garak meets Julian. Probably a matter of weeks, max. You big sentimental sap lmao

- Parmak, Ghemor, and I stood silently among the formations, inspecting the results of our work in the first light.“I mean no disrespect, Elim,” the Doctor said, “but the memorial looks even better.” I nodded in agreement.

“Please, Doctor,” I replied. “ ‘Restoration’ is fine for artifacts and museum pieces. When it comes to building a new community, I think what we did tonight is more to the point.”

“And we did it without murdering each other,” Ghemor added.

“How un-Cardassian of us,” I observed.

This all rules btw . Restoration is fine for artifacts and museum pieces it’s not for things that are alive. Gardener vs. architect/collector, Tolan vs. Tain.

Alon said: “I think we should get some rest before the competition begins. We’ve done what we can.” It was a wise suggestion, but each of us knew that we were taking a step into the unknown, and sleep at this point was not really a choice. We had done what we could, and probably it was best if each of us retired to the privacy of his own thoughts. We said our goodnights, and as I watched them leave I felt an enormous gratitude that I had been given the opportunity to work with these men. Once again in my life I felt that I had been resurrected from the dead.

Nodding and crying gif. Yeah. Yeah… you’ve done all you could and no one could ask anything more of you.

- “You know, Elim, I’m neither a soldier nor a politician. I’m a doctor.”

“I do know that. I also know that we’ve been betrayed by our previous leaders. Our only hope is that men like yourself can offer an alternative.”

“But you have the expertise that can….”

“Doctor, I have the expertise that comes from survival and compromise. There’s already plenty of that on the other side … and it’s not an alternative that will create a new and lasting union.”

“No, I suppose you’re right,” he conceded.

“You’re a doctor, yes, and that’s your strength. I’ve learned something about your profession over the past several years. Don’t think like a politician. Think of the planet as a patient barely hanging on to life. Think like a doctor. How would you save this planet?” He considered what I’d said in his careful manner.

Just as it is vital for a person like Garak to have a little Julian Bashir who lives in his head, it’s probably also good for the Bashirs and Parmaks of the world to develop a little Garak who lives in their heads to go ‘yeah that sounds real nice in theory but now imagine that there are in fact bad people in this world (I should know) who’ll interact with that theory and then act accordingly’ . Garak realizing where he belongs in this whole process tho…

“Ah, Doctor,” I stopped him. “You can’t go to your meeting like that.”

“Like what?” he asked with a puzzled look. Without explaining, I helped him out of his worn outer coat and showed him a ragged tear in the fabric. Despite his protests, I made him sit down and wait while I gathered my sewing kit and repaired the tear.

“Appearances are very important to these people. You can’t let them think you’re oblivious to details,” I said, as I reunited the torn and separated threads.

The Mila fussing-as-a-love language of it all…

- (About Pythas) The thought occurred to me that perhaps I should include him in a chant for the dead.

DAMN but also YEAH

- I moved to the constructed formation that stood in the space formerly occupied by Tain’s study and almost directly above where Mila’s body had been sadly abandoned in the basement. When I was a boy, I had unending dreams that centered around the memorials of Tarlak. As I lay on my pallet in the basement of Tain’s house, I would plan the scenario that would play out when Tolan took me with him to Tarlak. It would always involve me as the hero paying homage to a comrade fallen in a battle where we had both distinguished ourselves. I would tell the gathered assembly of notables every detail of the battle; people would weep, cheer, listen in stunned amazement as I explained how we had saved the Union from certain destruction. When I had finished, Mila and Tolan would escort me through the adoring crowd. What a terrible irony, Doctor, that those forbidding, impersonal memorials to the heroes of the Cardassian Union should ultimately become transformed into these ragged formations on the grounds of my childhood home … and that I would sit here, a middle-aged man, trying to mourn a fallen comrade who was still standing but barely recognizable. And yet, the irony of a Cardassia reborn with the help of a memorial built from the remains of Tain’s home didn’t escape me either.

Taking immense psychic damage with every word. When do you stop wanting your mom and dad to come pick you up and take you home, even when they’re both dead and kind of not your parents anymore in two different ways even before that? Never, probably

- “What changed your mind?”

“Your friends, Elim. Very impressive people … and persuasive.”

“What had you expected?” I asked.

“The usual amateurs who never understood what was at stake … the hard choices that had to be made,” [Pythas] explained. “To be honest, I had thought your attachment to this Reunion Project was….”

“Sentimental,” I finished. He smiled knowingly at the reference.

CACKLING. All but openly saying ‘yeah I thought it’s was because you’re fucking the doctor and I know exactly what a god-awful simp you are’ fhskdjafhaskjdh

“As I listened to him speak of the responsibility that we had as survivors to the life that remained, I also realized how bitter and hardened I had become.” He stopped and looked back to Nal Dejar, as if he were making sure she was still there. She met his eyes with a communication I couldn’t decipher, and he nodded. “Nal nursed me back to where I could function … part of me wished she hadn’t. Until your doctor spoke about healing … on every level. It’s what the body wants, he told us … unless we choose otherwise.” Pythas sat with his head bowed for a long moment. “I’d become very bitter, Elim.” I sat on a rock across from him and gently put my hand on his. What was it about this place, I wondered.

Hmngh. ‘I’d become very bitter, Elim’. No matter what choices they made along the way, where they fucked up or where they did everything right, they both ended up in basically the same place, embittered and broken, until someone touched their life with kindness. Nal is Pythas’ Julian Bashir. Coming back to life not as an act of will but because there’s someone waiting for you there saying ‘I’ll help you through it’.

“Do you know where Palandine is?” I asked. He just looked at me. “Is she still alive?”

In the darkness, it was difficult to read the expression in his one good eye. The silence that followed my question was broken only by his rasping breath. Behind her mask of disinterest Nal Dejar was studying me carefully. Even when she was a probe I was impressed by the strength of her focus. Pythas was fortunate to have her care and devotion.

I think Pythas and Nal Dejar’s whole deal could make for a really interesting story all on its own. Presumably they’ve known or at least known about each other for a long time now, since Garak has seen Nal around even though they’ve never worked together closely

- Just enough light for lovers; just enough light to begin he says, only to open the next chapter/epilogue with ‘My dear Doctor’ and explaining how he finally decided to send the letter. Healing on every level? Maybe? If we’re real lucky???

- My dear Doctor:

Again, forgive my further tardiness in sending this—I don’t even know what to call it. Memoirs of a Cardassian tailor? I suppose that’s as accurate a description as any. You see, Doctor, I seriously debated whether or not I should send this to you. As I went over it I wondered who this mawkish and self-serving person was. Grow up! I wanted to tell him. Get on with your life.

Well, I am; and sending this to you is going to further that cause. As I said, I’m an unfinished man reassembling the pieces of a broken world, and I have asked you to be a witness because you would never judge me as harshly as I judge myself. You would never deny me the opportunity of a second chance.

I feel like those last two sentences are the most important ones in this whole book — it’s what all the rest of it is built on, what made any of it possible. And also it will haunt me for the rest of my days but like in a good life-affirming way lol

His playful grousing about ugh your vaunted democracy *eyeroll* <3<3<3<3 come down to cardassia so you can have spirited debates turned makeout sessions/foreplay about it already julian please he’s setting you up for so many slam dunks here

I live with my orchids, which have unified and softened the increasingly popular grounds of my home. Their beguiling blooms, and the presence of children who come to play among the structures (as I did in Tarlak), help to dispel the somber mood that initially hung like those clouds of dust over our world. The sounds of their voices as they play function as a music that never fails to lighten my work. The children call it the “tailor’s grounds,” and the name has caught on. Yes, Doctor, I continue to work at my “new” profession. As you can imagine, there’s a good deal of mending to be done.

TAIN’S HOUSE TURNED INTO JUST ‘THE TAILOR’S GROUNDS’ BY THE VOICES OF PLAYING CHILDREN Y_____Y I hope enabran ‘let history be my judge’ tain gets forgotten for anything but his massive fuckup and that garak works some magic with what little fabric he has at his disposal to make the neighbourhood kids like. Stuffed toys he sews clothes for and he’s known as the person to go to when one is damaged so he can patch it back up good as new while teary little faces watch intently and then brighten. Julian seriously pretends to be his medical consultant as they perform teddy bear operations, what with his extensive expertise in the field and excellent bedside manner. No arm is too amputated to be reattached and we can always find a good button to replace Mr. Tinny’s missing eye in fact he’ll see even better now. I have such hopes for them I have such dreams

I have expanded my shed in the never-ending quest to find my place. I feel that I’m getting closer, Doctor, especially as I continue to refine the structures. One, which began as a memorial to Tolan, has a crude but effective representation of the winged creature from the Hebitian sun disc—turned toward the radiating sun, reaching, striving, while the sun-fed filaments stream down from the body and connect with the bodies of people standing on a globe and looking up to the creature for this divine connection…. I’ve attached the recitation mask he gave me to the creature’s face, and somehow it has become my personal totem. I hope that someday you’ll have the opportunity to see it. Nothing would please me more. You’re always welcome, Doctor.

You are always welcome, Doctor is one of those ‘you could slap that on my gravestone and I’d be happy about it’ lines. What a ride huh

Aside from anything else about this book (I think we can safely let this absolute monster of a three part reaction post be testament to my enjoyment and admiration right I hope I have made no secret of it lol) I want to congratulate Andrew Robinson for getting a novel-length character study written in first person (my beloved) published — as I understand it that’s normally a pretty hard sell in the publishing industry haha he was living the dream I one day fervently hope to as well and the results rule

#I do like both movies don't get me wrong but the politics part of my brain doesn't ever fully turn off

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curseofaphrodite · 3 years ago

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I put the ace in Space Boy

asexual! Regulus Black x Reader

Summary: headcanons and scenes. Had this idea for a while so here it is! Warnings: mentions of sex, very fluffy and cheesy.

Requested by my own asexual self.

‣ Regulus had mentioned that he’s asexual when the two of you first started dating. You didn’t mind it all, but he hadn’t talked much about it since then.

‣ After an year of dating, the both of you still had boundaries, but he felt stressed because it was the part of a relationship where all the other couples seemed to have sex, sex and more sex.

‣ You never made any kind of hint that you wanted something more but since it’s been so long after he said he was asexual, he thought you might have forgotten about it altogether.

‣ He’s nervous. He want to mention it again. He knows he had no reason to. You were very happy the way things were, and so was he. But he had to mention it again, right? Things were getting serious and even if you gave up your sex life, you could never have biological kids.

‣ Needless to say, our boy Regulus was nervous. What if you break up with him? He knew you probably won’t, but the words what if existed just to taunt us.

‣ He doesn’t know how to start the conversation so one day he just comes to your place, gives you a bunch of flowers, looks at you straight in the eyes, and bestie, you thought he was going to propose or something.

‣ But instead he says (and very seriously, might I add), “I put the ace in space boy.”

‣ You tried not to laugh at how anxious he looked. Emphasis on tried.

“I know that already, Reg. You love space and you’re ace.” “You remember it?” He felt himself relaxing. “Why would I forget?” “Remember when you forgot to turn off the oven, black smoke filled the house, and I almost died—” “ONE TIME! THAT WAS ONE TIME SIX MONTHS AGO. WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO LET THAT GO!” “When you leave the baking to me.” He said, grinning.

‣ Did I not mention he loves baking? Well, he does. It’s his favorite pastime. He loves the way you’d smile when he brings you new cakes and pastries. He always smells of cinnamon and vanilla, both of which he uses a lot on his dishes. ‣ Anyways, now that he finally knows you remember he’s asexual, a huge weight lifts off his chest. He keeps saying he’s sorry that he can’t be with you in every way possible, but you firmly looks at him and says that sex doesn’t have to be everything. You loved him for him and he loved you for you. You did not want to have kids anytime soon and if you do, adoption is always an option!

“Adopting, hmm, that does sound good,” he said, already imagining little kids running around the house. “Oi, don’t start working on the adoption papers now! It was just an plan, I don’t want kids right this moment!” You said sternly. “Okay, but imagine adopting two babies! We can name one after your dead relative or something-” “We’ll name one Nicholas.” “Seriously? You’d name our kid after your fictional boyfriend?” “Fine, what about Cal?” He’s silent, looking at you like you just did a tap dance. “What?” you asked, alarmed. “Are we seriously thinking of baby names now?” He laughed. “Just names! No babies!” You said sharply, but it did feel good to talk about it. You made a mental note to start looking at adoption agencies online.

‣ From then on, he’s more carefree around you. He brings you flowers every few days, each of them unique and different.

‣ He loves visiting the art museum with you! He knows a lot about art history, so he goes on about each piece and when he’s done he’ll remind you that even if all of the paintings are beautiful, none of them could even come close to your radiance.

‣ You’ll accuse him of being sappy but let’s be real, you love it.

‣ He’s just precious 🥺 He always kisses you on your hand, and when you’re overworking yourself, he’ll pick you up from behind and carry you away to the bedroom. You’ll kick and push and try to go back to your work, but he’ll demand you stay there while he gets you something to drink. (Just not coffee, because he wants you to sleep)

‣ When he’s the one that’s tired, you’ll call his name in an exasperated tone and he’ll give up whatever he’s doing, and drag himself back to bed. You’ll probably be reading some book and he’ll place a pillow over your lap and fall right into sleep.

‣ You’ll brush your fingers through his soft hair every few seconds, and when you’re done reading, you’ll slide to his side without waking him up, and sleep while hugging him.

‣ For some, forever seemed like a scary word. But the both of you cherished it, because it was what you said to each other. Forever, just the two of you. And it was a promise you intended to keep.

#regulus black x reader #regulus black #regulus black fluff #regulus x y/n #x y/n #x you #fluff #headcanons #oneshot #asexual #asexual regulus black #sappy stuff #regulus x reader #regulus headcanons #imagines #astoria writes

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squishneedsahero · 4 years ago

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New Beginnings

Awesomest of Them All 2.0

Part 6 of 13

Word Count: 1519

Batman x Batmom!Reader

You know what the bat family needs? Someone to pull them together and give them all the love they deserve. Who better to do that than you? An author rising to stardom in Gotham who catches the eye of a billionaire with your standoffish attitude at a huge social gathering. You are yourself and never pretend to be more or less than that. Plus you're the most stubborn person in the world, refusing to let good things go without reason.

This is a rewrite of my story Awesomest of Them All, I wanted to see how much I've improved over 3 years.

You stood in front of a mirror admiring your dress. It was a beautiful white gown, the perfect fit and cut for you. It was everything you had wanted and more thanks to Bruce insisting on Lois and Dinah going with you to make sure you treated yourself for this occasion.

You and Bruce had decided to go with a small family wedding, which is kind of ironic considering both of you were only children whose parents had passed. It was to be held in the manor's garden, a nice private little thing. You had both invited your friends, mostly the members of the League and their partners since you had never been great at the making friends thing.

As soon as Bruce spilled the beans on being Batman all the other women who were connected with heroes had swooped in and claimed you as one of their own. So now all the more extroverted women who were desperate for someone else who understood how obnoxious being in love with a superhero was had brought you, the introvert, into their group to bitch about things together. Needless to say you all had become fast friends and regularly texted in a group chat to complain about things no one else would understand and call your partners idiots for this or that.

Lois and Dinah had become your closest friends of all the women, all the other men in the league had at least a tad bit less of an ego than Oliver, Clark and Bruce did so the three of you formed a close bond. This is what had lead to you asking them to be your bridesmaids who were currently helping you with the finishing touches on your veil and flower crown. They finish up and begin chatting with you about something else when you're interrupted by a knock on the door, "Come in," You say, and it opens to reveal your pseudo father, Alfred.

"You look lovely Miss (l/n)," he says and you smile. "Are you ready?" He asks. You had asked him to walk you down the isle, since your biological father wasn't here to do it. Dinah and Lois wish you luck before hurrying to their places and leaving you to have a moment with Alfred.

You take a breath, "Yes, I'm ready," you were jittery with nervousness and excitement and you could feel your arm shaking when you hook it with Alfred's.

"Are you okay y/n?" He asks you, as he had finally begun to use your first name as you had asked him many times.

"Yes," you smile at him, "just excited to really be part of the family."

He shakes his head gently, "y/n, don't sell yourself short, you became part of this family the first time you walked in that door." With that he walks you out of the dressing room to be ready to go after your bridesmaids.

You and Bruce had asked Dick to be the ring bear and the fourteen year old had been delighted, except for the fact that he couldn't dress up as a bear. He heads out first, followed by Oliver and Dinah then Clark and Lois. It really was a small wedding, the only person you and Bruce didn't know well was the photographer.

Within a minute of you leaving the dressing room you're walking down the isle. Bruce was standing up there and when he saw you a huge grin made its way onto his face. It might be the biggest smile you've seen on his face, possibly bigger than the one he had on his face when you had said yes to him proposing. Commissioner Gordon officiates and the ceremony flies by. After you say the I do's the rest of the day is a blur. There's the dances and toasts until you and Bruce leave for your honeymoon that evening.

You and Bruce had decided to go to a cabin in the mountains, with no cell reception or WiFi, an entire week for just the two of you. The two of you spent most of the time cuddling and enjoying the fact that you could spend time together with out being needed. You had told the League members to not bother the both of you even if the world was ending, mostly joking... mostly, because you would both die happy.

Most of the cuddles happened in the morning, evening, and at night when it was cold. During the day the two of you would do stuff together. At one point you decided to climb a tree and claimed to be stuck just so he had to come rescue you, then you turned it into the two of you 'Sitting in a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G'. The two of you lived off of cheap take out food the entire week, because neither of you knew how to cook, most of your dates had been to high end restaurants in Gotham, and Alfred would never allow such food in the manor.

It was a perfect week, sex, kissing, cuddling and doing the dumbest of things together. All of the sex and kissing was just a bonus as the two of you just genuinely loved spending time together. Sure the two of you had other friends and people to spend time with but Bruce was your favorite person in the world and your best friend while you were his. You had married your best friend and that was why it worked so well because before being lovers, before even thinking of dating the two of you had been equals and respected each other.

Eventually the end of the week comes and the two of you have to head back to civilization. When you get back Dick and Alfred are waiting for you.

"Welcome back Mr. and Mrs.Wayne," Alfred says with a smile on his face that gets bigger when he calls you Mrs.Wayne.

"Mom! Dad!" Dick exclaims running to hug the two of you, and you cry. It was the first time he called you Mom, and knowing him he had probably planned it.

"Hi, baby," you say pulling him and Bruce into a hug, then you reach out for Alfred and he joins you.

Dick pulls away, "I forgot to give you your present."

"Oh, Dick, you didn't-" you stop talking when you see what he's holding out to you. It's adoption papers. You find yourself pulling him back into a hug, and crying again, silly you had thought you were done with that.

"Are you okay?" He asks worriedly, "You don't have to, I won't call you Mom if you don't want me to," he continues hurriedly.

"No I'd love to Dick, and you can call me Mom, but only if you want to," you kiss his forehead. All of those questions he had asked when you and Bruce first got engaged had fallen to the side, not mentioned again by anyone. But they obviously hadn't been forgotten, as shown now by Dick and his excitement.

"I want to call you mom, mom," he says hugging you again.

"Well, as long as you're sure," you kiss his forehead once again, "where's a pen?" You ask as you stand up straight and Dick grins at you.

A few nights after you and Bruce get back you head to the kitchen to get a snack, in the hopes of calming your nerves, because Bruce and Dick are out on patrol and you can't help but worry. They're your boys. You sneak into the kitchen and open the fridge in hopes of finding Alfred's leftover pie.

The light switches on and you turn around like a deer in the headlights, just to see Alfred standing in the doorway. "What are you doing Mrs.Wayne?" He asks, ever since you and Bruce were officially married he had refused to call you anything else.

"Worrying," you reply, turning back to the fridge, "there wouldn't happen to be any leftover pie, would there?"

"There is," Alfred says moving forward and finding it for you.

"Thank you, Alfred," you say taking the pie from him and moving to sit, not on the counter thanks to Alfred's being present. You sigh deeply, "why do I have to worry? It was so much easier not knowing."

"Was it?" Alfred asks, wise as always.

You sigh again and shove a bite of pie into your mouth as you give your father-in-law a playful glare. "I suppose it wasn't, never knowing why he wouldn't let me stay the night, but it was less stressful not having to know he's out there being Batman and that Dick is out there too."

He sets a hand on your shoulder in comfort, "it doesn't get easier-"

"Gee- thanks for making me feel better," you joke before shutting up and finishing your pie.

"Y/n, they're your loved ones, it will never be easy seeing them put themselves in danger but you knew that when you agreed to marry him. It might not be easy but it's worth it for those you love, I've found that to be true on many occasions."

#Batman #batman x you #batmom #batmom reader #batfam x batmom #batman x batmom #batman x batmom!reader #batfam #batfam x you #batfam x y/n #batfam x reader #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x y/n

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domstclair · 3 years ago

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title: Collateral timeframe: Sometime in the first week of term tagging: Shen Lai, Meredith St. Clair, Maxence St. Clair total: 1,653 words triggers: distant parents, manipulation, mentions of blood, outburst of violence, emotional abandonment notes: Complete.

SEBASTIAN STARED at the envelopes in his hands and studied Mafalda's scrawl. The sun shone through the windows overlooking the grounds. It'd annoy Sebastian if he weren't so stunned to see anything from Mafalda at all. She sent notes and also cards on his birthday. She sent boxes of baked treats sometimes with a quick few lines of affirmation.

She rarely sent letters. Mafalda was always working on something. He figured that her having written notes at all showed all the discipline for it she made herself muster. She was always one that liked calls more anyway. Sebastian was always touched by it. He kept all of her notes in a little book he used to press flowers. Petals and notes scattered into random pages. Any occasion where he pulled out the book gave Sebastian reason to smile for a few fractions of a minute. Just the sight of the notes was enough.

This was different.

He swallowed. Decided to read his parents' letter first. It was postmarked one day before Mafalda's was.

'Dearest Sebastian, We know you've been waiting to hear from us but we were away on a cruise and only now just got back.

His mother was the one to write this one.

You know our little travel rituals. One day before travel and one day after a return to acclimate again. The cruise was beautiful but I don't know why we ever thought going in July was a suitable idea. The Dominican is absolutely sweltering but I swear nothing would've slaked our wanderlust like this trip did.

The letter wasn't long. He was waiting for a word to jump out at him.

Anyway dear, no need to fret any more about your upcoming claim to Shen. You'll have no trouble validating the claim through the Board. Your forms will go through without any trouble. You're clear to move forward. I'd like you to set a date with Lai and leave the planning to me.

Love!

Sebastian's heart skipped a few beats. So there it was. His parents would never put in writing any of the specific details. The St. Clair clan were a careful bunch. But Maman had clarified everything for him in a few words.

So he was a Dominant. Totally and completely. A dual spike of pleasure and shame shot through him. That meant two things.

He'd enjoyed sex with a Dominant not because of any biological need. It was simply...good sex. Sebastian felt he could live with that, maybe. Even if Ihsan knew about it and so did Sebastian's bedfellows.

Really, what were a few trysts here and there when his place was secure in the world? He had all the full rights and autonomy of a Dominant. Nothing had to shift or change. He could claim Lai or Oak or whoever the hell he wanted and he'd be protected. He was still himself.

Sebastian exhaled so deeply he thought he'd deflate entirely.

He couldn't relax entirely, though. This news meant that there was something else. Something giving him headaches, making him irritable, slowing his cognitive processes. It scared him a little. It had to be serious if it was taking this much of a toll on him for this long.

His fingers hovered over the search box on his phone. He would have to make some sort of appointment. Maybe let Lai know so that the Shens could factor this information into the claim. They would want to know what was going on. Anything less could cause the Charter family to go on a warpath. Yet...something was off. He held back. Turned his phone face down on the bed beside him.

His thighs tightened as he lifted to his feet. Sebastian moved closer to the window and let his fingers touch the face of Mafalda's letter.

He opened it and her hasty scrawl spilled out over more than a few lines. He chuckled through his nose and the ghost of his smile faded from the corners of his eyes.

Caneton,

Mafalda wrote.

I want you to know that I love you. I have watched your parents take you for granted from the very day they hired me. I know there is so much going on inside of you. We didn't talk all that much when you were here but I could see it on you. You have known such few moments of happiness. You carry so much that you don't say. I hope you know that if you need to say it, I will always have time for you.

Whatever plans you and your parents have for your future I need you to know the truth.

Sebastian stopped himself from going on to the next line. His fingers trembled and the letter shook between them. He didn't breathe. Somehow Sebastian knew what was coming next.

Your test results say that you are a Switch. Your parents, they didn't tell me, but I could hear them arguing from my quarters out back. I came in to settle some tea in case your mother wanted a cup. I heard them say it out loud.

I don't think they are going to tell you the truth. So I'm doing it. Everyone deserves the truth. Especially truths that belong to them.

You do not have to be perfect in the world but you are perfect to me. There is nothing wrong with you. I know this changes what you thought was ahead of you...but all I ask is that you reach out to me when you need me. A box of your favorite cookies are coming this week in the mail.

Anything you need, Sebastian. Anything.

Mafalda

A drop splattered on the page. And then another. Sebastian looked up, expecting to see the tell tale signs of a busted pipe or a leak from upstairs. It was then that he noticed the dual tracks on his cheeks.

Oh.

Sebastian dropped the letter. He didn't feel any of the steps he took to his door, nor did he realize he'd gone outside until the heat of the dying day covered his body and lungs like a weighted blanket. His gaze was unfocused and his feet carried him somewhere he didn't recognize.

It was only when he got to the door of an empty house at the edge of Lowell's property that any cognition briefly returned for him. It was one of the claimed student condos that didn't often stay occupied for too long. Always someone coming and going. Always someone else leaving.

Sebastian pushed open the door and looked around him.

He could hear his heartbeat in his ears. A sweltering rage rose up inside of him. Sebastian's chest rose and fell rapidly. His vision turned double as more tears came. The skin of his knuckles grew white as his trembling hands tightened into balled fists at his sides.

He yelled. Long and loud and guttural. His temples felt like they'd implode and it was only the anguish of his lungs which made him stop.

He yelled again. Another. Throat feeling like it could tear with the force of it in his mouth. He yelled until he ran out of breath and tore the doors from one of the kitchen cabinets. He flung the fine china across the living room and shattered them against the walls. He smashed the dining chairs against the table and kicked one leg out from under it. Threw another of them into a window.

Sebastian tore down the blinds and curtains. He kicked the drywall until it busted and the wood behind it splintered.

At some point a knuckle started to bleed and he tripped onto some glass he'd spilled out over the floor. Sebastian laid there, feeling it dig into the surface of his skin. He might've stayed there forever. For good. Laying like that.

Except he pushed himself up and settled his back against the wall. His knees came to his chest and Sebastian circled his arms around them. His face hid in the crevice between like a child counting out a game of hide and seek. His muffled cries still echoed in the big vacant house. His clothes were a mess of stains and wetness when he finally lifted his face again.

After all that rage came nothingness.

His parents had lied to him. They were going to fix this whole thing. Probably had already lined up someone to file the wrong paperwork to get his claim to go through. Dissolutions were hard and they must have known that once the claim happened they could wash their hands of whatever happened next. Even the Shens would want to cover up the embarrassment of a false claim.

It was the simplest solution. The cleanest. The cruelty laid in it's Machiavellian perfection.

Sebastian was just a problem to be solved. They hadn't given him the decency of helping him through this. They just wanted him to do what he was told. To move on from it.

Sebastian's face crumpled and even his own arms around his knees didn't stop the complete and utter feeling of aloneness he felt. It couldn't keep the abandonment from creeping into his bones nor the weightlessness of worthlessness crippling his joints. He was pinned there by gravity, else he felt he might just float away.

Whatever happened next. Whatever phone calls home he made. It didn't matter.

He was alone.

Hours passed into darkness and only when the stars came out did Sebastian shift, pain shooting through his aching muscles, and he pushed himself off the floor.

Hargrave was sleeping and his door shut quietly behind him. He laid atop his covers until morning when he showered off the debris. He covered the dark circles under his eyes and phoned his parents.

"I know the truth," he said into a silent line.

A sigh was his only sign she'd heard him.

"Let me get your father."

This was the start of negotiations.

#para: all #para: collateral.

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boys-night · 4 years ago

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Mickey and Ian - communication, sex, and relationship styles, post 11x07

Here’s my take on how Ian and Mickey relate to sexuality and relationship styles, thinking mainly about 11x07, but also looking more broadly at the series and including HoS. If you’re not interested in incorporating 11x07 in your version of canon, ignore this! I enjoyed 11x07 but I understand people have different ways of seeing Ian and Mickey’s relationship. I’m also doing the classic meta thing of taking seriously exaggerated/comic/contradictory elements in the show because that’s how I roll.

Super long post under cut.

I’ve been reading Sexuality: A Graphic Guide by Meg-John Barker and Jules Scheele which is where a lot of the following ideas and terminology come from. I’ve also been looking at Meg-John Barker’s free relationship zine on their website rewritingtherules.com. I highly recommend their work, including the podcast they have with Justin Hancock, The Meg-John and Justin podcast (although MJ has left now and it’s called Culture, Sex, Relationships, but you can check out the backlog!)

They think about sex and relationship styles using various models including monogamy/polyamory, allosexuality/asexuality, romance/aromance etc. They look at these different facets of sexuality/relationship styles as complicated continua rather than binaries which shift over time. They also write about sexuality on an action/identity spectrum, communication strategies around relationships styles, and the windows into relationships. Here, I’m looking at all of these things thinking about Ian and Mickey’s relationship and as individuals within the relationship.

The monogamy/polyamory continuum

I’ve seen a bit of debate about how to label Mickey and Ian’s relationship on the monogamy/polyamory spectrum and I think it’s a pretty complex question especially considering those labels mean different things to different people and that relationships shift a lot over time. While labels like these can be useful, they can also be rigid and restrictive in their own ways.

Some terms that come close-ish to what they say they’ve decided in 11x07 are monoamorous and polysexual, considering they aren’t at all interested in romantic connections outside of each other but are up for sex (in a broad sense) with other people. But these terms don’t account for the agreement that they’re only exploring sex with other people when they’re together.

As people have pointed out, some of the boundary setting around exactly how they’re involving other people in the relationship is left off-screen, and also they’re not necessarily going to form identities around how they act in one episode. I’ve also seen people suggest reading their relationship style as monagamish and/or that what they do with other people is part of kink/play. I think these make sense in different ways and that in 11x07 Ian and Mickey definitely focus more on what they do (action) rather than who they are (identity) in regards to monogamy/polyamory.

In 11x01, Ian’s focus is more on identity. He sets up a binary choice between being monagamous or not in their relationship. 11x07 indicates they’ve moved through off-screen discussion into a much more personalised arrangement with more focus on actions allowing for flexibility over time. In 11x07, we see them agree on rules: sex in a broad sense is allowed outside of the primary partnership, love isn’t. They keep negotiations ongoing (e.g. in the bedroom, in the furniture store), and there is an indication that these rules could change over time.

I’d love to read/explore more about the ways in which this approach has changed over the course of the whole show. At the start of their relationship, definitely prior to s4, they have much more implicit rules about who they can have sex with, and those implicit rules become problematic in s5, when they realise they’re not completely on the same page regarding them. They bring up clashing ideas around the rules when Mickey’s leaving prison in s10 too. In s11, their relationship becomes more intentional, with these rules stated aloud rather than assumed.

The action/identity continuum in regards to gay sexuality

On a slight tangent, I think there’s a comparison to be made here to how they relate to sexuality (specifically gender of attraction) and the idea of gay identity, which seems to develop in the other direction. For Mickey especially, for a long time having sex with men was something he did rather than something he was, and that’s gradually somewhat shifted over the course of the show. There’s so much more that can be explored here, for instance, about how the action-based approach is much more acceptable within the hyper-masculine environment he was raised. Terry also approaches it this way when talking about prison sex, for example. According to this very oppressive social script, having sex with men in certain circumstances can be OK but claiming that as part of who you are is absolutely not.

But I also want to stress, I don’t think either approach to gay sexuality, looking at it through actions or through identity, is inherently better or worse. These different lenses on sexuality also intersect with class and levels of education. As explored in Sexuality: A Graphic Guide, the identity approach is also relatively a very modern way of seeing sexuality (late 20th century). Gender of attraction is also only one facet of sexuality (which includes amount of sex you want, type of sex, sexual roles etc.) but its now often regarded as the only or most important facet of sexuality. The identity-based approach is much more acceptable within the more aspirational/middle class settings they interact with in s10 and s11. In these seasons, Mickey and to a lesser extent Ian aren’t completely willing to accept it wholesale. I like how, for example, even well after “coming out”, Mickey often still approaches sexuality through actions rather than identity, e.g. his response to the woman at the flower shop asking if he’s a homosexual: “He is, I just like having another man’s dick up my ass.”

However, I also think it’s cool/interesting how Ian and Mickey both move towards and embrace various parts of mainstream gay identity in s11 too, and a large part of that involves combatting the sexism, femmephobia, and hypermasculinity with which they were raised, e.g. of course, singing and dancing to Lady Gaga and Ariana Grande in the bathroom.

You could also look at the different ideas about the origins of their gay sexuality in HoS through this lens. Mickey goes for a psychological/behavioural approach (based in like early 20th century sexological theories); Ian goes for a born-this-way, biological/genetic approach (popularised in the 1980s as part of gay pride movements).

Mickey’s approach is very old school (definitely a way of thinking that reflects his upbringing), which assumes straight is the norm from which gay deviates, to do with Freudian theory/the idea of homosexuality as pathology. He doesn’t, for example, seek to use the same model (Fiona’s bad relationship history) to explain why Lip is straight. Ian’s approach (”not because I was born this way?”) reflects his investment in the intractability of sexuality related to his strict opposition to conversion therapy models and the idea of being gay as a choice. It also reflects the way he reacts negatively/disbelievingly to Debbie’s more flexible sexuality (in s8?). While obviously it’s fucked up/impossible to force people to change their sexuality and it’s perfectly reasonable for him to define the origins of his own sexuality however he wants, this approach risks excluding more fluid experiences of sexuality.

Again, Mickey’s approach is more behavioural/action oriented and Ian’s is more identity oriented. They both seem pretty willing to shift their ideas around this though (especially Mickey, who potentially is just regurgitating old stuff he’s heard without thinking). The concluding thought is that Ian is gay because he likes Mickey’s d, lol.

Individual differences on sex and relationship continua

I really like the detail that Ian doesn't want to have sex and be friends with anyone else aside from Mickey. In 11x07, he doesn't want to make friends with the guys in the locker room although he's down for repeat sexual experiences which suggests he thinks he forms romantic attachment through a combination of both sex and friendship. It seems like it's important to him in his negotiation with Mickey that they don't form romantic attachments outside of their own relationship.

This relates back to the 87% thing in HoS where Ian says he tends to get at least slightly attached to everyone he has sex with and Mickey has 87% of his heart. Mickey doesn’t like the 87% thing at all but I reckon it outlines a really interesting difference between the two characters in regards to relationship styles. It indicates that Ian is comfortable with a slightly less mononormative way of doing nurturance/care than Mickey, while Mickey seems to initiate more of the polysexuality than Ian in 11x07. (Although of course, we don’t see how Ian would react if Mickey were to tell him he’s got 87% of his heart! -- but this is a very difficult to imagine scenario).

Sex is a big part of their relationship for both of them. Both Ian and Mickey seem pretty allosexual (e.g. they feel sexual attraction for other people generally), but Mickey is possibly even more so than Ian. Mickey also maybe falls on the aromantic/grayromantic spectrum (once again, the labels can be really useful but I don’t want to be too prescriptive/rigid). Ian seems to be more alloromantic, with a capacity to experience romantic attraction to a whole bunch of people. For him, sex and romance seem to be more interconnected in all cases although he can definitely separate the two (especially when thinking about transactional sex etc).

But I think it's more complex than that. For instance, Mickey reserves certain sexual acts for just between him and Ian and its clear that they have both intimacy and exploration in their sex life. From the outset, Ian and Mickey’s relationship involves exploration and excitement with sex, and provides a freedom to explore their sexualities in regards to sexual roles and kink. It’s clear that Mickey values the safe space Ian specifically gives him in this regard from very early on in their relationship. There’s a parallel here with the bathroom Gaga/Grande scene where Ian’s instinct isn’t to tease or make fun of Mickey but support him embracing more stereotypical gay behaviours and/or more fluid gender roles to the ones he’s grown up with outside of sex too.

Also it might be useful to complicate the idea of romance itself which is a really difficult idea to pin down and which seems to mean different things for both of them. I love the stress on friendship in 11x07. Friendship and also family connection play such key parts in their relationship with one another and the way in which they are attached, arguably even more so than traditional models romance. Both HoS and the Hopper painting discussion are interesting to think about in regards to the ways Ian and Mickey think about the concept of romance differently and the ways it intersects with or differs from their ideas around friendship/family. I like how Mickey’s willing to see getting a coffee together as romantic in a positive way for instance after Ian explains that it’s about togetherness in hard times. While maybe Mickey sees Ian’s suggestion of having a bath together as awkward/weird because he views it more as trying to live up to a social script of what is “romantic”.

Communication strategies around relationship styles

In s11, Ian and Mickey’s relationship is very entwined, and, in comparison to Tami and Lip, for instance, they disclose a lot to each other. Ian asks that they tell each other everything, and although Mickey is more resistant to that initially, he becomes much more forthcoming with his feelings in s11 (around Terry, around moving to the West Side, around becoming a parent).

While I appreciate Ian’s role in initiating more communication between the two of them, I felt sorry for Mickey in their initial discussion in 11x01 in re “monogamous or not”. The turning over the paper method is a pretty binary way to open up a discussion about a very charged and complicated thing.

They do seem to complement each other in this regard though with Ian generally more keen to initiate conversation but also getting more trapped into binaries, narratives of normativity and should-stories. While Mickey totally still projects an image that is informed by local expectations around masculinity and white supremacy, he’s also a rule-breaker in many ways and doesn’t have the same desire to conform to what society perceives to be “normal” (thanks HoS), especially behind closed doors and within his relationship with Ian (“liking what I like don’t make me a bitch”). @fiona-fififi had a really good point in the tags a while back about how Mickey’s investment in their wedding and its success might have spurred Ian on further to embrace more normative ways of doing relationships. This is super interesting, and also makes me think just about how being married itself prompts Ian to think about taking a more active role in pushing the relationship further up the relationship escalator and in pushing for more communication around these steps in general.

There’s also something to be said about pressurising each other in 11x07, especially when they jokingly(?) threaten each other with sex with other men if both of them aren’t around. I doubt they were making these suggestions seriously but it definitely doesn’t strike me as the most consensual method of communication. But there’s parallels here with generally using sex as a bargaining chip earlier on in the season. Ian seems to do that after having exhausted his attempts at trying to have conversations around money/monogamy etc, as a tried and tested way of getting Mickey to engage with him. And it definitely reflects using sex with each other and sex/relationships with other people (e.g. s3 Angie/Ned, s10 Byron/Cole) as modes of communication in earlier seasons. It kind of makes sense that they still have these habits in s11 even if they are no longer the primary mode of communication.

Ian and Mickey relied so much on implicit communication in the early seasons and they have highly developed nonverbal ways of communicating. I don’t want to say that either verbal or nonverbal ways of communicating are inherently better than the other. They seem to understand each other on a deep level, which is really cool, but people have pointed out can make them think they don’t need to verbally communicate when they do, because they assume that they’ll understand one another and be on the same page. It’s super interesting to see them maintain that deep connection and continue to use nonverbal cues while also adopting more explicit and intentional communication styles in s10 and s11.

The windows of their relationship

The fandom is always bringing up how Ian and Mickey leave the doors open when they bang, lol, and also making fun of how much Ian overshares. I think this is v fair but it also strikes me as pretty healthy that he wants people to see into his and Mickey’s relationship, especially in his discussions with Lip. But Ian’s got plenty of people around him who can see and help when things get tough.

In s11, it’s great to see Mickey get closer to the Gallagher family and see various members defending him or taking his side in arguments, but he definitely does have less of an on-screen support system than Ian. (I wish that they had developed his and Sandy’s relationship in s11). I think the aftermath of the City Hall incident in s10 really reveals this particular imbalance in their relationship. On one level, Mickey moves in with Byron as a reaction to being hurt and even maybe a strategy of revenge/manipulation, on another, he doesn’t really have anywhere to go aside from the Gallagher house when/if he needs to get away from Ian. Also, the way he retreats back to the Gallagher house when he can’t deal with the Westside is an interesting development of this in s11.

Ian’s need to share stuff about their relationship is kind of exciting considering his history of being unforthcoming about his relationships (and his history of being in a lot of secret relationships), as well as how difficult he found it to talk about Mickey while Mickey was away. But there is a different problem with ongoing talk around privacy and boundaries here too (Mickey doesn’t want Ian to chat about how he’s not into rimming!). Although to be fair, Mickey also chats about a lot of explicit sex stuff with strangers.

Although they do ultimately decide against pursuing the pretty inorganic way of making friends in 11x07, Ian’s desire to make gay friends who he can talk to about relationship stuff makes sense in terms of the way he has been pushing for a more intentional relationship with more communication and more explicit discussion and compromise this season (and last season too). It also intersects with an idea of him/both of them going further to embrace gay sexuality as an identity.

It’s interesting that Mickey’s the one to initiate this decision through ribbing Ian about his relationship with Lip. Why’s Mickey doing that? Is it just to be a little shit or is he also trying (subconsciously?) to activate Ian in some direction? (And also, maybe there’s a parallel there to getting their apartment in the west side, where Mickey’s the one inadvertently introducing Ian to the idea by pushing for them to go play in the pool).

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There’s a lot here which is just scratching the surface of thinking about Ian and Mickey’s relationship in the context of these different sexuality and relationship continua. For e.g. it would be really interesting to think more about this stuff in terms of shifting sex roles and kink exploration. Of course it’s all up for interpretation and I am sure I am highlighting areas that I’m personally interested in and inadvertently projecting myself/my own preferences and styles into this discussion. Very down for disagreements and discussions if other people are interested and manage to read all of this, lol.

#Ian x Mickey #Gallavich #shameless meta #shameless 11x07 #sexuality #relationships #Meg-John Barker #shameless s11 #Ian Gallagher #Mickey Milkovich #why did i write all of this?#Shameless HoS

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writer-jamie · 5 years ago

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Whiskey and Hidden Feelings - Joel Miller x Reader (Part 2)

Summary: Whiskey and hidden feelings don’t mix well. Joel was about to learn that the hard way.

Warnings: Spoilers from tlou2, mentions of sex.

Tag List: @peakymarvels @miss-goldenweek @samdrakeftw @fangirl-inthe-us @apocalypsekid @imahardcase

A/N: I’ve decided to make this a series, i’m not sure how long it’s going to go on but it’s going to be at least 3 chapters! I will write some smut in this series but i need a reason for y’all to come back right 🤔 I hope you enjoyed! I will be including more of Y/N’s backstory in chapter 3 and there will be more conflict and shit to come! See you soon!

Masterlist!

You had taken Joel up on that drink, and multiple after that. Ellie would sit at the bar and watch your little ‘dates’ as she liked to call them and would insit you tell her everything after them. She stopped walking you home when Joel started doing so. Dina told her to stop cockblocking you so she did. Dina is..is a special one. One drink led to another and you two were always leaving the bar pretty drunk but you didn’t mind, it was just the way you two worked.

Joel would meet you outside work and walk you home, after all it wasn’t like he had anything else to do. If you were in the normal world, he would be the type of guy to meet you after work for coffee and a cake. He was fucking perfect.

The best part was Ellie. She enjoyed your company anyway but with you being with Joel, she had more of an excuse to hang out with you. She spent most her nights sleeping over at your house and basically lived with you. But she would always complain when you and Joel were all lovey dovey. But what hurt Ellie the most was that you and Joel weren’t being exclusive. You would sleep with Steve most nights, mainly for some comfort during the nights and because Joel, even when you invited him inside, would leave with a kiss. You thought he just didn’t want to have sex, but Ellie knew it was because he didn’t want to scare you off. Every time Steve would show up at your house, she would tell him to fuck off and leave you alone but nothing ever worked, and you were still sleeping with the man. Nothing ever worked.

—————

You crossed your legs and sat on your bed and ran your fingers along your arms. You touched the rough skin around the litter of scars from years on the run. You leaned over and grabbed your water, taking a sip before watching Ellie walk up the stairs. “Hola Señorita!” You smiled and grabbed the hot drink from her. “Can i see your tattoo again?” She crossed her legs and joined you on the bed. “Why? Needing inspiration?” You joked. She nodded and you looked at her seriously. “Hey not until you are eighteen. I don’t need Joel turning around and blaming me for your tattoo ‘inspiration’.” You laughed and moved your arm, allowing the girl to see it. It was a flower and a bird crossed together. She loved it. “What does it stand for? Like why did you get it?” She asked, moving back to get comfortable. “It was my dad’s favourite bird and flower. He was a gardener before this shit.” You explained.

“How old are you?” Ellie mumbled and looked down at the floor. “Well that’s rude. You shouldn’t ask a woman her age, Els.” You giggled before sipping on your drink. “I’m twenty seven.” You raised your eyebrows at the girl. Ellie snorted on the drink and laughed loudly. “My birthday is in October. I turned seven just before all this shit happened. I'm not looking forward to thirty. God I'll be so olddd.” You groaned and dramatically leaned backwards, putting your arms on your stomach. “Thirty isn’t old. Try being Joel. He’s like seventy!” Ellie laughed and laid down next to you, resting her cup on her stomach. “He’s not that old.” You poked her side and looked up at the ceiling.

“You’re only saying that because you fancy him.” Ellie turned to face you with a shit eating smile on her face. “I fancy his cute butt.” You laughed and looked at the girl. Her face turned from a smile to a grossed out expression as she realised you were serious about it. “You two are so fucking gross.” She turned onto her stomach and grabbed her notebook from her backpack. The girl scribbled in her book and looked at you before sketching you surrounded by flowers. The same flowers as your tattoo.

The room fell silent and the soft sound of the wind outside hit the small house. The whistling of the wind was a sound that often helped you sleep on restless nights. You looked around at the empty walls of your house. You had nothing to decorate with so why bother? Anyway, who knows you might need to pack up and leave suddenly. At least that's what you have been telling yourself for the past eleven years. You wanted to feel secure and you finally felt safe at Jackson. Well as safe as you can feel. The safest you‘ve felt since your dad died.

“Are your parents still alive?” Ellie asked after a minute of silence. You sighed loudly and looked at Ellie. “No my dad died a few years ago and I never knew my mother.” You moved positions and sat up again, stretching your legs out. “How? Didn’t your dad tell you about her?” You shook your head and reached underneath your bed, finding your box of things. You grabbed the box and put it on your lap before rummaging through, looking for the photo album. “Ah ha!” You shouted when you found it. “This...” You opened the book on a picture of you and a middle aged man. “Is my dad. My rock.” You showed Ellie. The girl took the photo album into her hands and tilted her head, looking intently at the photo. “My mom was an egg donor. I never met her. I was made in a test-tube and put into my surrogate, my dad’s best friend, Susan.” Ellie looked at you with utter confusion, like everything you were saying was from some alternate reality.

“My dad was gay. He liked men and because men can’t have babies alone, he and his partner at the time decided to get a surrogate to be able to have me. It was expensive as hell but my dad he..all he wanted was a child of his own. Thats why I look so much like him, because he is my biological dad. My mom is just a number on a board, I’ve never met her and couldn’t care to. After all, Susan carried me for nine months, not her.” She turned the page and saw a picture of your dad with a heavily pregnant lady. “Susan?” She asked you. You nodded before turning the page, showing her a photo of your dad holding you when you were newborn. “My dad named me after his favourite member of the band at the gay club he used to visit. My dad used to live the life.”

“On Outbreak Day, I was at the beach with my dad and one of his partners. As the Runners crowded the beach, I watched Paul get his throat ripped out. My dad rushed us out of there and back to his car as fast as possible. I was seven at the time.” You played with the skin around your nail. “But you’ve probably seen worst things, right Els?” You asked rhetorically and put your hand on her shoulder with a caring smile. “Anyway! Back to the happy memories.” You smiled and turned the page.

—————

The warm lights of the bar hit your face as you opened the heavy door. You looked around and saw the usual patrons of the bar as well as people preparing for the night. You wandered over to the bar and decided to actually look at the photos on the wall. You were on about three of them. One of them was a photograph of you and Ellie months ago when you had a girls night. Another was of you, Steve, Dalia and Roger, all dancing during the ‘adults only’ event. That’s was when you and Steve were going steady. And by going steady you meant sleeping together every night to make someone else jealous. For you it was Joel, for him it was Kira. The last photo was of you, Maria, Tommy and Joel. You smiled and watched as Frank turned on the bar lights, beginning his long night. “Hey Frank.” You smiled.

You pulled down the skirt on your dress as you sat down on a bar stool, running a hand through your hair and fixing your jacket on your shoulders. You hummed and looked at the clock behind the bar and saw the time. He was late. You ordered your usual whiskey and sat waiting for Joel. You watched as all the couples came into the bar. It was very typical for a Friday night. All the couples who had kids would come in on a Friday because some people volunteered for a kids club and would look after the kids all night to allow the parents some peace. The older kids would just stay home and sneak out, including Ellie.

You saw Tommy and Maria walk past with a smile on their face as they said hello to the patrons of the bar. Tommy put a hand on your shoulder as he walked past, giving you some comfort. You looked at the door and watched as Joel walked in, greeted by Tommy who gave him a pat on the shoulder before the older man looked around for you. Once he spotted you, he walked up behind you and put his hands on your shoulders, placing a quick kiss on cheek. “Sorry i’m late. Ellie needed something.”

“I though Joel Miller was never late?” You laughed and turned to face him, putting your hands on his chest. He was breathing hard. He must have ran here. He took your drink from behind you and drank it in one gulp, looking down at you innocently. “I’ll get you another.” Joel took your hands in his and stood you up, looking at you outfit. “Woah.” He smiled and you blushed, pushing him away gently before kissing his neck. “Let’s find a booth.” You told him before walking away, leaving him behind watching you.

After many more whiskeys and vodkas, you and Joel were getting more handsy and more tipsey. You were basically sat on his lap at this point, playing with his hair on the nape of his neck and leaning into his shoulders, getting as close as you could. You wanted him to make the first move. To kiss you first. Tell him he liked you first. But Joel is as stubborn as a mule so he would never admit anything first, or take initiative. So when a romantic song game on, you grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him up and to the floor. “Don’t go shy on me now Miller.” You mumbled and looked around, seeing how everyone was staring at him. After all, nobody had ever seen him on the floor before.

“You don't have to go now honey. Call and tell 'em you won't be in today. Baby there ain't nothin' at the office. So important it can't wait.”

You moved forward against Joel, wrapping your hands around his neck. The music slowed down as all the couples made their way to the floor. “Y’know you are reaaaal pretty up close.” You mumbled into Joel’s ear as he put his arms around your waist. “Y’know you are drunk?” He smirked at you as you swayed to the music. “You are a good detective, Texas.” You mumbled. Joel looked at you with wide eyes. “You good?” You asked, leaning your head against his chest. “Sorry. Someone i used to know called me that.” You took a deep breath. “Tess. Tommy told me about her.”

“I'm thankful for the weekend. But two days in heaven just ain't gonna do. This is gonna take forever darlin'. Girl I just got started lovin' you.”

Joel nodded and held your hands close to his chest, rocking you two back and forth. “You are a good dancer, Joel. Why did you hold that back from me for months?” You smiled and closed your eyes, enjoying the quietness of the situation, although it’s pretty loud in the bar tonight. Joel looked down at you and smiled, pressing his warm cheek against your forehead.

“What's the point in fightin' what we're feelin'. We both know we'll never win. Ain't this what we're missin'. Let's just stop all this resistin' and give in.”

You pulled away and put your hand back around his neck, playing with the long pieces of hair. You adored his hair. “Hey cowboy..” You mumbled as your eyes adjusted to the warm light. “Hey.” You looked around to see all the other couples sharing a kiss. “You wanna..put those lips somewhere? Or are you just going to continue talking trash?” You pressed one of your finger to his lips. Joel clicked his tongue and looked into your eyes. “Depends. You gonna stop sleeping with Steve?” You frowned and looked at him. “Depends. You going to give me a reason to stop?”

“Let me wrap my arms around you. You know you don't want to leave this room. Come back and let me hold you darlin'. Girl I just got started lovin' you.”

Joel leaned forward and pressed his warm lips to yours. It wasn’t your first kiss with the man and you prayed it wouldn’t be your last. He was soft and gentle when he needed to be and rough and dominant when he needed. You pulled away once, but you immediately went back for more and the again. You tried to make sure you weren’t making out too much in the middle of the bar but with Joel, control wasn’t a thing. You smiled against his lips when his prickly beard tickled your face and neck as he kissed you gently. Then you said the one thing he had been waiting for since the day he laid eyes on you.

“Take. Me. Home.”

You breathed heavily when he pulled away. Joel didn’t need to be told twice. The two of you stumbled away from the floor and grabbed your coats before sneaking out the back door like a couple of teenagers. The walk back to your house was a short one, and one which you two walked many times. But this time, it was a walk back with a purpose. You stumbled to open the door as Joel pressed small and needy kisses to your exposed neck. You were giggling and smiling as you finally opened the door and rushed upstairs. Joel laid you down on the bed and showered you with kisses, running his hands up your thigh and into your dress.

“Slow down Cowboy, we got all night.” You moaned and kissed him deeply.

—————

The sun shone down on the small lake. You hopped off your horse and grabbed her reins before walking up to Ellie. “So you can swim now right?” You asked, putting your bag down next to your horse, Reign. You watched as Ellie took her shoes and jumper off and nodded. “Yeah! Me and Joel have been practising more. But I'm glad you are going to help me!” Ellie smiled as she jumped into the lake. “HOLY FUCK IT’S FREEZING!” She yelled as she popped out of the water, making you laugh loudly. You quickly changed out of your top into your vest before jumping into the water after her. You popped out of the water and brushed your hair out of your face. “Ellie! It’s so fucking cold!” You yelled and grabbed her shoulders. You kicked your feet around underneath the water, trying to warm up and stay afloat.

“Ok! Ok!” You took a deep breath. “Let’s work on diving and keeping those peepers open!” You smiled and dove underneath the water, grabbing Ellie’s feet. The girl laughed and held her breath as she went underneath and stood next to you.

“Ellie? Y/N?” Joel yelled as he walked around the corner, seeing the two horses tied up nearby. “Joel! We are in here!” Ellie yelled out and splashed in the water, ensuring Joel knows where they are. He turned the corner and saw the two girls in the lake, with soaking wet hair. “What are you two doin’?” He asked.

“Swimming!” Ellie laughed loudly and swam to the edge of the lake where you were sat, your legs dangling in the cool water. You were drying off for the ride back but ensuring you kept an eye on the girl. After all, you were the adult in this situation. Joel walked up behind you and kneeled down, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your neck. Ellie groaned and covered her eyes. “Gross.” She swam in a circle. “Hi.” He smiled and put his hands on your shoulders. Before you could say anything, Joel had pushed you into the water. You popped up and looked at him. “Hey Asshole!” You swore and flipped him the bird. “I’m sorry. I had to.” You shook your head and grabbed Ellie’s hands, swimming around with her.

“Joel! Get in. The water isn’t freezing at all.” Ellie laughed before splashing near the man. “No way kiddo. I’ll put my feet in but that’s it. We can have a lesson next week.” Joel stuck to his promise and took off his shoes and socks, rolling up his jeans before he sat down, putting his feet in the water. You watched as he splashed Ellie from the sidelines, like a dad watching his kid play football. A smile spread on your lips as you swam over to him, sliding between his legs and putting his hands around your back. You pulled him down into a kiss and with one big pull, Joel was in the water with you. He popped up to the surface and stared at you. “Oh yeah you are so dead!” He yelled, swimming after you and Ellie, involving her in the conflict.

“I WASN’T EVEN INVOLVED!” Ellie screamed as Joel caught up to her, splashing her and tickling her sides. You stood behind Ellie and watched as the two came up with a plan. “Get her!” Ellie shouted as they came running, well swimming, towards you, splashing you and soaking your top half. “St-Stop!” You laughed, putting your arms around Joel’s neck, holding onto him for safety. “He’s the one you need to be saved from!” Ellie laughed and splashed you both, laying on her back.

“Hi.” He looked at the side of your face. “Hi.” You turned to face him and looked into his eyes. “I’m still going to kill you.” Joel threatened. “Yeah yeah. Who else would be your drinking buddy?” You smiled, hugging him tightly.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #tlou2 spoilers #tlou2

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dangermousie · 4 years ago

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Awwww, Moran showing love through food. And CWN giving him the food and thanking him because he’s trying to be nice to him but he’s so awkward at human interactions he’s basically reciting the menu. I LOVE THEM!!!

Oh, fuck, it’s Nangong Si! There are only two things I’ve never gotten over in Meatbun’s stuff between 2ha and Yuwu. One is Murong Chuyi in Yuwu and the other is Nangong Si’s fate in 2ha. It’s funny though because he ended up being one of my faves but when we are first introduced to him, I was sure it was going to be the “arrogant heir of powerful sect is an unprincipled jerk” and I swear most other authors would have gone for that. Also that whole interaction he has with Ye Wangxi is driven so much by his love and jealousy and basically Nangong Si is straight (?) Moran. (Ye Wangxi is biologically female but she’s been dressing and acting like a man and even using a changing spell so much, I am not sure what she’d qualify as tbh; since Nangong Si loves her as a guy or as a girl, maybe he’s just a YeWangxisexual?)

Yes, yes, CWN is from the Kunlun Sect (and that is why he was kneeling in the snow begging TXJ to spare them in the 0.5 timeline.) But also, I could be wrong but I think Moran is actually connecting it with the person who fed him when he was a starving child, but he can’t make a full connection yet. Side note - of all the reveals, almost none of them walloped me as hard as the reveal that teen CWN saved a starving to death small child and that child was Moran.

Screaming!!!! It’s Hua Binan/Shimei spell on Moran. I can’t remember btw if CWN 0.5 removed that when he went into “main” reality along with the flower and this is just the remnant trace, or whether it’s still there but Moran’s feelings for CWN are so strong, it’s not really working properly without the flower prodding it. But either way, UGH!

The FUCK! I hate Hua Binan to a degree I cannot put into words. Yes, Moran, why haven’t you been more solicitous to your torturer?

Moran finding the person familiar - screaming!!!!

The bitter irony is that Moran had never done anything to Shimei, not even in the past life, and the bit, “how could you bear to tell me to fuck off” - fully body shudders - because it’s Shimei and this is a GLARING NEON RED SIGN OF A HINT.

And you know the other thing? You can tell how much Shimei/Hua Binan despises Moran. It’s not just that he’s using him or he has no feelings about him or anything, he really despises him - because of CWN and because he needs him and he doesn’t want to need anyone for his awful plans. That dig at the end about “unwanted child tossed aside” - seeing that is what happened to Moran and one of his biggest traumas, this is just vicious (and the fact that one of the reasons Moran cares for Shimei is because he thinks Shimei never looked down at his origins or his rough childhood, double ouch!) I do find it fascinating that he puts that spell on him, but he doesn’t know the flower has been removed and the obsessive affection curse has been neutralized, so all that is going to do is not make him hate CWN and love Shimei, it’s going to make him more devoted to CWN. (And yet, when the barrier goes down, even though he doesn’t love Shimei, he STILL replaces Shimei to save him, because when not fucked over with multiple spells, Moran is a GOOD person, it’s just !!! Oh, and I really wonder what Hua Binan was hoping to happen - he probably planned for Shimei to “die” again. I don’t think he wanted Moran to replace Shimei with the barrier because how useful would it have been for him for Moran to die? Not at all. He probably didn’t mind CWN dying though because then maybe Moran won’t fixate on him, but he couldn’t have known CWN would give up his life to save Moran. Hmmm.)

ETA: And now Moran is kissing CWN’s hair while the latter is asleep. MMMMMM!

ETA2: and now the flashback to that sex scene. OUCHHHH that was horrifying. Honestly, if I were CWN I’d never get over this once I got my 0.5 recollections back, even if I objectively knew none of it was Moran’s choice. The most I’d be able to manage is “I get it and I won’t murder you and you did it to save me so I think gratitude/guilt and hate cancel each other out, but peace out lets NEVER run across each other again.” He is much more big hearted than I am.

#cnovel #2ha

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eldritchsurveys · 4 years ago

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1090.

Can you say you are fully happy right now? >> Some surveys have such standard and generic questions that I can’t rightly tell if I’ve already taken it. This is one of those, and because it’s so long I’m hoping to god I don’t get to the middle of it and be like “oh. I did this literally last week” lmao. Fingers crossed. I don’t know what “fully happy” means. I took my walk like I promised myself, and I made an offering and am now drinking it (it’s delicious, a dessert stout called Big Luscious), so I’m on track for how I wanted my day to go. And I’m not triggered or having any kind of episode, so I’m okay there. Which means I am currently stable, which is a great place to be (considering the alternatives).

Do you think someone is thinking about you right now? >> It’s possible, I guess.

Is there someone who stopped talking to you for no reason? >> I mean, probably, at some point. Ghosting is a common thing these days, for some reason.

Did you ever get called horrible names like (whore, skank, bitch)? >> Sure.

Where did you sleep last night? >> In my bed.

Ever slow danced with anyone? >> Yes, outworld and Inworld. Inworld is obviously the best, though. ~

Ever cried in public? >> Yes. Privacy and solitude was a rarity and a luxury for most of my life, so I had no real choice.

Ever feel safe in someone’s arms? >> Inworld, yes. I don’t know what that’s like outworld.

What would you do if you were pregnant? >> Die.

Are you afraid of letting anyone in? >> So, I have disordered attachment, am a product of CEN and CSA, and have resultant CPTSD. You do the math. (*makes some kind of joke about how it’s probably gonna be algebra because of all the acronyms--*)

Do you like cuddling? >> I love it Inworld. It basically gets me through everything. I would basically remain glued to Can Calah at all times if I could (and on some bad days, I do). Outworld is a completely different story because of the things mentioned just above.

Ever cry in school? >> I’m sure I have.

Who is the last person to send you a message on facebook? >> Probably Casey, like a month and a half ago.

Do you look decent when you wake up? >> Why am I paying attention to how I look when I wake up? I’m in bed. Who the fuck am I performing for? -___-’

Have you ever been given roses? >> No.

Had a long distance relationship? >> Yes.

Does it bother you when people never answer their cell phones? >> Why would that bother me? I am also one of those people. Oh, I guess you mean, like... I call a person, they never answer... hah, as if I would ever call a person. This is totally outside my experience.

Do you care what happens in politics/your government? >> I mean... here’s the thing. I care in the sense that I’m not totally disconnected from the effects of politics on people like me. But the realm of politics, specifically, is so alien to me that I have no idea what to do about it except halfheartedly vote and hope for the best? I don’t know how much more I’m supposed to care. I hate the political system, period, I want nothing to do with it. People assume that anyone that feels that way must be privileged and unaffected by politics, but I guess their shortsightedness about how different people can experience and feel about things is not my problem.

Ever been called babe/baby? >> Sparrow says “babe”.

Have you ever witnessed someone else engaging in a sexual act (not necessarily sex)? >> Yes.

Where did you get drunk last? >> I don’t remember. I don’t get drunk anymore, I just like to drink a beverage and enjoy the taste and slight buzz. Like right now, it’ll probably take me the next hour or two to finish this stout, but that’s the way I like to drink. Slowly and comfortably.

What’s your relationship with the last person you texted? >> I’m married to her.

If someone went through your pictures, would they find a dirty one? >> Nope. The only time I ever took nudes was just for the fun of it, not to be sexual or anything. Just enjoying having a human body (god, I wish that were me now...). But that was a long time ago and none of those photos are available anywhere anymore.

Do you want to see anyone right now? >> No.

Have you ever fell asleep in someone’s arms? >> Inworld, yes. Outworld, no.

How long does it take for you to fall asleep at night? >> About a half-hour after laying down, usually. Some nights a little longer, but then I just catch up on my reading.

How many pillows are on your bed >> Two.

When’s the last time you cried? >> Yesterday.

Is it cute when a guy buys you flowers? >> I mean, I’d require more context than that. If I’m friends with a guy and he’s like “I saw these flowers and thought of you!” that’d be adorable. I do love flowers, thanks for thinking of me! Also, I’ll probably use them as an offering, so double win. If some random guy sent me flowers, I’d be a bit disturbed and put-off.

Will things change in the next month? >> I mean, yes. That’s how it works.

How did you do on the last test you took? >> ---

Have you ever wanted to tell someone something but didn’t? >> I mean, yeah. Are you afraid to grow up? >> ---

Are you busy tomorrow? >> Probably not, unless something really unpredictable and abnormal happens. I might be plenty busy playing FFXIV, though, considering I can’t today because it’s patch day.

How long have you had the shirt you’re wearing? >> It’s an undershirt, idk how long I’ve had it.

Do you give out second chances way too easily? >> Er, I assume not? I’m not usually in this kind of situation.

Has anyone told you that you’re amazing? >> Yes.

How many black shirts do you own? >> Like 15. For reference, I own like 20 shirts total.

Do you think you will be in a relationship three months from now? >> I don’t see why I wouldn’t be. A lot of weird and sudden shit would have to happen to change that.

How come you’re not going out with the person you like? >> ---

When you feel cold does eating warm food help you feel warm? >> I don’t know. I do feel warmer after eating, just in general, probably because of the blood moving around to start digestion.

Do you want to diet? >> No. No I fucking do not. Don’t even suggest that to me.

Are you unsure about your feelings for someone? >> I’m not unsure about my feelings for anyone. I know how I feel about people. It’s other people whose feelings are a complete mystery to me.

Who did you last hang out with? >> Sparrow, because we live together.

Would you take $40,000 or a brand new car? >> I mean, obviously the money, since I can’t drive and don’t want to...

What song are you currently listening to? >> None.

Are you happy with your relationship? >> It’s fine.

Who was the last person to smoke something other than a cigarette or weed in front of you? >> Other than a cigarette or weed?? So, like... crack???? I really couldn’t say. It’d be years ago.

Does anything on your body hurt? >> Not right now.

If the last person you kissed were calling you right now, would you answer? >> I would, because if she’s calling me, then it must be a real ass emergency. Or probably like an EMT using her phone to find an emergency contact. So yeah, I’d answer. One of the very rare times I’d answer my phone.

In the run of a week, how many times do you straighten your hair? >> ---

Are you mad at someone right now? >> Nope.

Last thing someone gave you? >> I don’t remember.

Who woke you up this morning? >> Just me, naturally.

Who is your favorite family member on your mom’s side? >> ---

What do you do in your spare time? >> All my time is "spare” time, by other people’s standards, so, uh...

Who was the last person you were under a blanket with? >> Just Can Calah. :B

Where is the last person you kissed? >> Inworld.

What was the last thing you ate? >> Veggie burger and chips, breakfast. I’ll probably grab some lunch and queue up a movie after this.

Which of your friends is the most likely to get pregnant right now? >> ---

Do you remember the meanest thing the last person you kissed ever said to you? >> I don’t think she’s said anything particularly vicious to me. Just... kind of thoughtless things, I guess, earlier on.

What does your last outgoing text say? >> It was a link to a TikTok of a cute dog.

Have you ever been called prince/ princess? >> No.

Waiting for something? >> No. Well, the Dinnerly box, which is gonna get here eventually and which I’ll have to go downstairs to retrieve and then unpack.

Have you kissed anyone when you’re single? >> Yes.

What are you doing this weekend? >> I imagine the same things we do every other weekend in these COVID times.

Could you go the rest of your life without smoking a cigarette? >> I imagine so.

Have you ever kissed someone who was in a relationship? >> Yeah. Where is your biological father right now? >> ---

Where is the biggest scar on your body? >> Probably the one on my face. How late did you stay up last night? >> Not very. I think I went to sleep shortly after 11. Have you had your birthday this year yet? >> Yeah, in May. You had to kiss the last person you texted, would you? >> I mean, I have. What would you call your body type? >> I don’t want to call it anything. Are you a morning person? >> Yes. Have you ever been to Target? >> Yes, many times. Do you like iced coffee? >> It’s okay. When is the next time you’ll be at work? >> --- Has anyone ever hacked your accounts before? >> Not that I can recall. Could you ever be friends with someone that broke your heart? >> Probably not. I take that kind of shit super fucking hard. Ever made a prank phone call? >> No. Does your mom vacuum early in the morning, when you’re sleeping? >> --- Have you ever been in a car accident? >> No.

Have you ever been in a fist fight with someone? >> Yes.

Have you ever seriously hurt anyone by mistake? >> Physically? I assume not. Have you ever had stitches? >> Yes. Name a time when you had to be strong. >> Like... all the time? I don’t really know how to answer this. Have you ever dealt with a divorce or parents fighting or any kind of abuse at home? >> The first two, no, because my parents were not together. The third, yes. Have you ever lost someone close to death? if so, how many? >> Once. Have you ever had any volunteer jobs? >> No. Have you gone through a lot emotionally growing up? >> Obviously. Has a boy/girl ever cheated on their boyfriend/girlfriend for you? >> I really would not want anyone to do that. Anyone that can disrespect the rules of their current relationship so flagrantly is going to disrespect me next. Also, that’s a messed up thing to do to the third party, too. Do you want to see someone this very minute? >> Not especially. Unless it’s D. :)

Are you happy with the way things are going? >> Some things, sure. Are you a forgiving person? >> Sometimes, I guess. It’s not what I’d call a character trait of mine, though. Do you have to check in with your parents before you go someplace? >> --- Do you have a friend of the opposite sex you can talk to? >> --- Describe how you feel about your life in the past month using one word: >> I cannot do that. Would you like to go back and change any part of your life? >> I mean, I don’t know. I am who I am, and that’s because of what I’ve experienced. I don’t know who I’d be otherwise, and I do like myself and I want to continue being myself, so... I have to take the bitter with the... less bitter. When will your next kiss be? >> I don’t know, whenever I want it to be. Last person you saw other than your family? >> --- Will tomorrow be better than today? >> I mean, today was pretty okay, so if tomorrow’s even better than today, boy howdy. Are you feeling guilty about anything right now? >> No. What’s going through your mind right now? >> I’m just taking this survey, dude. That’s all I’m thinking about. When’s the last time you had fast food? >> Day before Thanksgiving. Do you believe that there’s good in everybody? >> I mean, I guess, if we have to put it that way. I just think that people are largely alike, and that if I can see the “shadow self” in me and everyone that is capable of many of the evils of the world, then I don’t see why I can’t also see the “higher self” in me and everyone that is capable of the beautiful things that people do for and with each other. These divisions always make me twitch a little because I think making it a dichotomy misses the real point a bit, but I haven’t run into better words for this yet so I’m doing my best with what I’ve got. Is it okay if you kiss people when you’re single? >> ... When was the last time you saw someone attractive? >> I mean, I can see Can Calah or King Crimson whenever I want. :B What was the first thing you did when you woke up? >> Probably reached for my phone to see what time it was. Think back eight months ago, were you single? >> No. What do you carry with you at all times? >> Myself :) Are you okay with the life you live? >> I’m okay with a lot of it. Way more okay with the lives I’ve had to lead before.

Do you have a Tattoo? >> Yes. What other piercings would you get other than the ones you already have? >> I’m not sure. I haven’t really thought about it because I’ve been so focused on tattoos in recent times. I’d just rather have ink. Did your last kiss take place on a bed? >> Probably. Have you ever been to Disney World? >> No. If so, how many times have you been? >> --- Does grammar and capitalization mean anything to you? >> Meh. Like, here’s the thing -- even if I don’t capitalise proper nouns or use dialect grammar as opposed to “proper” (don’t get me started on the connotations of that term) grammar, I can still be understood. And that’s the whole fucking point. I use the social standard for grammar and capitalisation when it’s necessary, and for some reason I’ve been taking surveys with the social standard of English for so long that it’s a habit by now, but I’m not obsessed with it. I love being able to code-switch and I love using vernacular and I love “Internet dialect/grammar” and all of that. Language in all its forms, unrestrained, is just so. fucking. cool. Are you good at wrapping gifts for others? >> Sure, I like the orderly origami-like process of wrapping. Do you have a dirty clothes hamper in your room? >> No, it’s in Sparrow’s (bigger) room. Do you enjoy big holiday dinners? >> I enjoy big dinners and small dinners. I assume by “big” you mean “lots of food”, not... “big” as in “lots of people”, because that I do not enjoy. Is your vision good? >> Yes. Is your present hair color, natural? >> Yes. What was the last thing you ordered online? >> A crystal. Fuck, that reminds me, I gotta poke around on Etsy for some stocking stuffer type gifts. Have you ever worn color contacts? >> Yes, quite often back in the day. If you have a significant other, how long have you been together? >> Almost nine years or something, idk. I’m bad at time math. Where are your parents as of now? >> --- Do you follow a certain religion? >> No. Do you have any family members who live out of town? >> --- Do you consider yourself short? >> Not really. What room are you in? >> Mine. Do you listen to any country music? >> Sure. Do you ever watch Lifetime? >> No. I don’t have cable, but I wouldn’t watch Lifetime even if I did. Would ever consider having children in the future? >> Probably not. Have you ever lived on a farm? >> No. Do both of your parents have jobs? >> --- If you had the chance to move to a completely different state, would you? >> Yes. What is something you’ve always wanted a boy to do for you? >> Clean my house. IDK, lol. What do you wish you had more knowledge about? >> Oh, stuff. What food are you craving right now? >> I’m not craving anything, even though it’s lunchtime. I have no idea what I want to eat. ...Hmm, egg, rice, and roasted veggies sounds really good but idk if I want to make eggs right now... How old were you when you stopped believing in Santa? >> I never was told about him. I kind of vaguely knew he existed from just... cultural saturation, or whatever, but yeah. How many times have you kissed the last person you kissed? >> A lot. Do you have a friend you can tell stuff to and you’re sure they won’t tell? >> --- Would you ever get someone’s name tattooed on you? >> You know, every time I see this question I totally fucking forget that I already have a person’s name tattooed on me. My X-Files tattoo that matches with Sparrow’s says “scully, it’s me”. Scully is a name lmaoooo So, yeah, I guess the answer is yes.

Does your family have family picnics? >> --- If your doctor said you were pregnant, what would you say? >> “That’s not a funny joke, so please stop”, I mean, what else would I say? That’s literally impossible so the doctor must be trying to pull a funny. A really fucking bad one, too.

#surveys #survey #random survey #not for reblogging *glare*

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thecloserkin · 5 years ago

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book review: Carolyn Slaughter, Relations (1976)

Genre: Gothic psychological suspense

Is it the main pairing: yes

Is it canon: yes

Is it explicit: yes

Is it endgame: no

Is it shippable: yes

Bottom line: I read this concurrently with Wuthering Heights and allow me to play sommelier—10/10 recommend this wine pairing for maximum gothic extraness. tw: suicide

There’s boatloads of sex but this is not a horny story. It’s a lyrical story—in the sense of expressing direct, spontaneous feeling. Not that a story couldn’t be both (Wuthering Heights is both horny and lyrical) but I actually want to spend a minute defending this book to my past self. The first time I read it, I was unimpressed because Relations wasn’t much of a Love Story. You know the kind I’m talking about, you know the beats you’d expect it to hit: here is a pair of siblings tOrMeNtEd by their iLLiCiT pAsSiOn!!! I mean, the mode isn’t always tragic or dark but even the cream-puff versions of this arc entail some sort of line being crossed or feelings being caught. We are used to characters who begin in initial-state, a journey brings them to end-state and a clear delta separates the two conditions. This book says: fuck that. Fuck change. Fuck growth. My best days are behind me and I’m ok with that because now my brother is lost to me and I give zero fucks about anything else. We have a novel steeped in the symbolism of winter (the season of loss & deadness that is impermeable to change). Our pregnant heroine dreads her impending due date, in part because the child is not her beloved brother’s; but mostly because having a baby is just about the biggest change a body can be subjected to, and she’s actively averse to change. All she wants is her brother back. If you’re looking for characters to fall in love, as in transition from feeling one way to feeling another way, this is most likely not the book for you. But I enjoyed it a whole helluva lot and let me tell you why.

The predominant note of this story is MELANCHOLY. It’s backwards-looking rather than forward-looking, things just keep getting worse and worse for our protagonist and yet she’s unapologetic about what she did: she loved her brother, loves him still and always will. What I admire is that she is steadfast in the face of remorseless despair. Compare these quotes, this one from near the beginning: “I feel listless, often close to tears. I am beset by fiendish pangs.” This is from near the end: “I am hollow, clanging with emptiness; there is no solution.” Do you see what I mean by no delta between initial-state and end-state? I think there is an important distinction between this book and Forbidden, which holds out the promise of a happy ending only to snatch it away at the last minute, in that Relations puts its cards on the table & promises no such thing. It’s melancholy all the way down (well, three-quarters of the way down it transpires this book is in fact a high-concept Folgercest prequel I SHIT YOU NOT friends read it yourself).

In the novel’s present, our girl Catherine is entombed in a emotionally sterile marriage; in the past she grows up warmed by the sun of her brother Christopher’s regard & affection. Slaughter chooses to locate these strands at two crucial points in Cathy’s development—age ten (prepubescent) and age thirty (the age at which women’s “biological clocks” start ticking—this is relevant because Slaughter is writing in the 1970s even if Cathy is living in the late Victorian Era). We should note here that Christopher is older than Catherine by two years, aka the universally acknowledged INCEST SWEET SPOT (I know some of you favor twincest but you are WRONG and I will prove it in my forthcoming monograph on the topic). At age ten, Cathy and Christopher have intercourse for the first time after stumbling on their father’s secret porn stash. The sex is more mechanical than enjoyable, and that’s the point: they start banging out of curiosity, keep banging out of habit, and only later do hormones and feelings kick in. Ten- and twelve-year-olds just don’t get horny the way older kids do, and that is, again, the entire point. Slaughter structures it so the sex happens first (in the very first flashback chapter). The feelings don’t follow, the feelings don’t emerge, the feelings were there all along. What the sex does is seal a secret between the two of them, the secret of their father’s porn stash (hidden in an abandoned wing of the house).

If we turn back to the present, we find Catherine yoked to a man who excites zero feelings in her. By her own admission she married him because “I found him pleasant to listen to and he never made any demands upon me.”These are the qualities that recommend a husband to her—that he impose no psychic demands whatsoever! All her energies are already absorbed in reminiscence lol. We find out he proposed to her with a speech worthy of Pride & Prejudice’s Mr. Collins, and that he possesses not a particle of passion. Which is exactly how Cathy wanted it:

I entered the marriage in a state of apathy; simply undergoing it because of Mamma’s pressure, and because there seemed no other real alternative apart from marriage open to me.

We were married in the winter of my thirtieth year.

I walked down the aisle in a state of complete inertia, my sense muffled by the laudanum … I wished with all my heart he could have been my brother.

File away that glancing reference to winter; more on that later. For now please focus on how numb she is—not discontent, just apathetic. Cathy insists the present brings her nothing but pain and insists she doesn’t regret the choices that brought her here. She’s unrepentant about loving Chris, and explicitly rejects the conventional moral framing that would view her past self as “sinning” and her present self as “redeemed”:

I could not rid myself of the old and over-riding passion of my childhood. I decided eventually that no one would ever, could ever, be what my brother had been to me.

If I could have felt then, and now, that there was some evil in what we did, then I could have borne it. But I could find no evil in it.

I would not be so oppressed if I could but feel my past was wicked and scandalous. If I believed that, i could gladly submit to the institution or the grave. But some buoyant spirit within me keeps insisting that what I had was fine, and contained elements of true beauty.

“The institution or the grave,” she says. Those are the choices. If you want to have Thoughts and Feelings and not just a Body, then your lot as a woman is to end up either in a sanitarium or dead in childbed. Only when she looks back at her childhood does Cathy perceive a time when it was different, when Christopher, at least, saw her as a whole-ass person. Yes, this is another entry in dr. thecloserkin’s ongoing “Incest vs. the Patriarchy” series; if you guys thought I was going to stay off my bullshit for more than ten minutes then joke’s on you hahaha. Here are some quotes that show she was getting her emotional needs met as a child (she’s borderline suicidal as an adult):

leaves me with only the memory of such complete intimacy. It is beyond my reach now, and perhaps I shall never agin recapture it though I live to be ninety.

there was no discord in our interests and desires.

We talked all the time. We never ran out of conversation; I never grew tired of his speech.

It never occurred to me…that we would not always be together. There seemed no need for anyone else—he filled out my present and my past.

Ok so if everything was so idyllic back then what the heck happened? How did it all fall apart? Slaughter withholds the crucial revelatory scene until close to the end, but the story up till then is permeated by a very Gothic sense of creeping dread. The elephant on the horizon is change. Cathy and Chris are on the precipice of puberty, which portends seismic changes in their bodies, and the accompanying changes in their roles as they inch toward adulthood. Cathy doesn’t handle it well:

the old fear. A fear of things changing; of his face looking at me in an unfamiliar way; of our world altering and growing cold about me.

There seemed no question why it should not always continue in this way, and no reason why our bodies or our minds should change or suddenly not fit.

Our life became a little cloister: and I never wanted to leave it. The idea of change haunted me.

I was insisting, always, like a child, the nothing must change; nothing must happen to destroy our life together.

And here is where I connect her fear of change with her favorite season, winter:

I was afraid of change. It seemed menacing. I realized the sadness and bleakness of the winter really suited my nature best. It made me feel more real; sadness now seemed more real than happiness; more permanent, and therefore easier to bear.

the seasons change and find me the same. Nothing touches me, nothing makes me laugh or weep. I have no real substance.

OMG SHE’S A FUCKING REVENANT

”You are so thin. Your limbs are slim as these winter branches.”

I have touched my roots, my beginnings, the things that have formed me.

This book is an anti-change pro-winter manifesto. Winter is the season of desolation, where nothing grows, and if there is one change she adjures above all others it’s the life presently taking root within her womb:

If I am a seed about to burst, if I am to flower, the old seed, my Self, must die. Some new thing will grow out of me; but I must perish. I cannot have it; I cannot allow it to happen. I must protect myself from this that would devour me.

My body continued to change according to its own will, nothing could shift the determined embryo within me … I cannot bear the thought of this thing growing within me, living off my blood … I feel nothing but doom, and a great fear if this shall finally come to pass.

The progress of her pregnancy is literally making her mentally ill. I want to link this horror imagery to child!Cathy’s musings on the decomposition of her father’s corpse:

I wondered if all the flesh had fallen off by this time. I imagined his bones growing into the wood of the coffin, and the trees growing into his skull, the roots twisting around his rotting limbs.

People who read this passage and think “this is a really tight horror aesthetic but what is it doing in the middle of my luscious love story” are missing the point. This is a horror story. But instead of framing the incest as the impure act that violates and threatens our accepted categories, we are invited to view the pregnancy as a gross & unnatural hijacking of Cathy’s body. Her body’s fecundity defeats and puzzles her. She actually tells us about her nightmare wedding before she tells us about her real wedding; in her nightmare she looks at her bridegroom and:

transfixed with horror because he is without the male member — all that resides in the space between his thighs is a burnt-out stub—like the hacked branch of a tree deadened and blacked by many winters.

So far we’ve had body horror associated with (1) her father (2) her husband (3) her unborn baby. Notice who’s not on this list? Notice who she always thinks of with tenderness? Notice who doesn’t ever evoke an iota of fear or horror in Cathy? That’s right! Her brother. The whole incestuous affair is really an own-goal on patriarchy’s part, because the same doctor who warns Cathy’s mother against Cathy’s “wild and unnatural attachment to her brother” goes on to say:

Little girls, Madam, are the scourge of the earth. They have no future, but to grow into that unhealthy state of womanhood, with its unclean festerings and grotesque swellings of the abdomen. I would that little girls could always stay the pure young things they are before the age of eight.

This is some next-level IT WAS EVE’S FAULT SHE ATE THE APPLE spin. Can you blame Cathy for taking this venerable authority figure at his word, and staying “pure” by staying a child, by warding off womanhood and childbearing altogether? goodforher.jpg

Real quick here are some lighthearted episodes from their childhood since it’s not all doom and gloom: Christopher marches next door to confront the Frenchman who is maybe sleeping with their mom and is definitely perving on Cathy. Christopher returns the Frenchman’s gift of silk stockings with a grand declaration of “My sister Catherine has no need for these.” That’s right shut him down Chris!!! Also: Cathy falls into a frozen pond and Christopher rescues her. Their negligent mother blames Christopher. Cathy is shaking with pneumonia and all she wants to do is “make the sad look leave my brother’s sweet face.” Christopher refuses to leave her side until she rallies from the fever. He is thirteen:

I think that Christopher and I half-died together in that terrible week, and afterward, when the terror had passed, we were never quite the children we had been before.

Congrats kids you have undertaken a symbolic journey to the underworld!!!! Good job.

SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS

It wouldn’t be a real incest story without a third sibling, an odd-man-out who helps us triangulate our main pairing’s relationship. Edward is a sociopath and a bully. Parents playing favorites always wreaks havoc with children’s sense of self-worth, but I think in this case it’s 90% down to Edward just being a bad egg (fwiw their father, when he was alive, did favor Christopher). Edward is a peripheral figure for most of their childhood; he appears only to “bang on our door to tell us to be silent for our giggling kept him awake.” That’s right, our door—teenage Catherine and Christopher share not just a room but a bed (!). Edward resurfaces as an adult to beg for Catherine’s intercession with his wife. He married an heiress, and now he seems to have soured on her. He talks about her “malady” and her “hysterical nonsense.” She has “phantom confinements.” They are “phantom” because she is barren. Sir you are literally a Victorian dude named Edward who keeps his mad wife locked up in the attic, you can sit allllll the way down. A heavily pregnant Catherine rolls up to Edward’s house just in time to witness his wife’s suicide: ”I had to make sure there was nothing inside me,” explains the poor woman, lying in a pool of blood after cutting her abdomen open with a knife. This seems fine. This whole society seems fine, right? Catherine reflects: “Ill-health or madness was her only solution, married as she was to a man who so complacently felt himself her superior” and “We are sepulchered alive in this close world, and want more room.” If this applies to her sister-in-law’s tragic fate it applies with equal force to her own situation. Cathy may not be physically barren but her inner life is empty af.

I’m going to talk about the breakup now. The climax of this book is the last time Cathy and Chris have sex. Contrast the arc of many slow-burn stories where the climax is the first time the main pairing has sex. Cathy’s menses doesn’t even arrive until after the incestuous affair is over! And what precipitates the breakup? Well, their mother decides to take the family on a seaside vacation. This is the summer when everything changes (Cathy’s favorite season is winter, and she abhors change). As for what changes, exactly, it’s kind of unclear? Wasn’t like they got caught having beach sex (which they had a ton of). The forces of change are wholly internal. They’re growing up. They’re waking up to the existence of social taboos that will brand their love “unnatural” & worse. As readers we can see that Catherine and Christopher’s attachment is as natural as breathing, and it’s actually the Incest Is Icky crowd that’s drawing harmful artificial boundaries. What happens is there’s a local girl who has obvious designs on Chris. She’s a nonentity but the mere existence of someone outside of Catherine and Christopher, someone who views one of them as an object of sexual desire, sort of punctures the bubble they’ve hitherto been living in. They can’t pretend society doesn’t exist or that what they’re doing isn’t immoral by its lights:

”We have never felt bad before. It just happened and there was no harm in it. I see no harm in it now—I cannot feel suddenly that it is wrong … but even if it is, why does it signify? Nobody knows.” ”Yes, but why does nobody know? It must be because we have deliberately tried to hide it?”

Christopher is the one who unilaterally decides that incest is wrongdirtybad and it has to end. Christopher is the one who seeks out Rando Local Girl and fucks her just to prove how serious he is about ending it with Cathy, which imo was inflicting a pointlessly cruel injury for no reason?? Wtf Chris I thought you were one of the good ones. What I love about Cathy is the steadfastness of her conviction—she accepts Christopher’s decision but she is far from convinced by his reasoning, his deference to social norms. Here’s Cathy’s take: “it seems to me that to live in a way that is contrary to one’s own nature, to live in a way that is false, that is the evil. The discontent grows like a cancer.” Authenticity ought to count for something, no? But these kids and their beautiful love are ultimately outmatched by, and broken by, the weight of social mores:

I could not bear to think of anything changing. I wanted it to stay the same dear way it had always been; ever since I could remember … but the spell was broken; we could not pretend any more. We had to stop being children. “Please. Once more.”

And that’s the breakup scene. It’s devastating. Cathy keeps staring at this one beauty mark on Christopher’s familiar well-loved face and she’s crying and I’m crying too. Recall that they’re still sharing a room/a bed up to this point? “The first night alone was the worst,” says Cathy. Imagine losing the person who is your whole world….overnight. Oof. There’s a time-jump of a few years, and Chris announces he’s off to—I think South Africa? I think this is around the time of the Boer War? I didn’t make any detailed notes and I’ll be damned if I’m going to fish for my copy of the book just to confirm what we already know, that it’s the 1800’s and the sun never set on the British Empire:

”I must get away from here and see something different; begin again…I cannot imagine a day without your face, or your sweet companionship. I do love you. But this must be for the best.”

Christopher goes off to doing colonial-settler stuff, initially. Here’s his first letter home:

I want you to be happy and grow up straight without me.

As opposed to growing up crooked, or growing up gay?? Here are subsequent letters where he seems to have done a complete 180:

thought it would be simpler to be away from you, from the constant temptation. It is not. My nightmares terrify me, they are eating my brain. I don’t know how long this can last.

AND THEN he writes he’ll be coming home for Christmas! I must’ve missed the memo where this story turns into a straight-up Folgers fic but that’s about where we are. It’s literally Folgercest. He goes to Africa explicitly to get away from her. Time and distance cannot suppress their feelings. He comes home to find her still waiting for him:

”Why have you clung to me, or rather the memory of me. For surely the memory is better than this twisted, pathetic creature before you?” “I have found no one better,” I said simply.

Asdfdfkdfjd this reunion scene is heartbreaking bc Christopher and Catherine are barely five minutes in each other’s company before Edward intrudes, claims to have found them in a compromising position, claims to have suspected all along about the incest, almost comes to blows with Christopher, tells him to get out. And Chris does. Cathy doesn’t even get to say goodbye. Edward’s presence is so clearly a case of entrapment—he was expecting Chris to come to her, he was expecting to catch them doing something “inappropriate” even though it sounds like they were only embracing—that there is no doubt in my mind Edward’s intent was to hurt Cathy and Chris, rather than to protect Cathy’s reputation or whatever bullshit he was spouting. We have seen from Edward’s abuse of his wife that he is no kind of moral authority. He does, however, succeed in “making me feel unclean, and dirt was attaching itself to me with every foul word he said.” In this scene Edward is handy synecdoche for patriarchy, which berates Cathy with accusations of sinfulness while actively stifling her every creative impulse and intellectual endeavor. If this book has a villain (and I don’t think it does; it’s not that kind of book) Edward is it. I find that edifying. It’s not Cathy’s husband who’s the primary antagonist standing in the way of her self-actualization—the husband is no more than an empty suit—it’s her other brother. One brother saves her and the other damns her.

After Edward runs Chris off and Chris goes back to Africa there are a few more letters, including this one: “that nothing has changed in my heart. That I love you with the passion of our youth, with the strength of all these long, long years.” Thank you for the affirmation Chris! I needed it even if Cathy didn’t. But the war is ramping up and Chris is headed into a combat zone and the odds of his survival do not look good. Cathy is already preparing to grieve him. She’s also preparing to go into labor any day now. These two threads, her brother’s impending death and her child’s impending birth, merge in the final pages of the book where Cathy is just clearly SO OVER IT:

I have nothing to fight, yet the waiting is most terrible … I have nothing to do but wait. I have nothing to leave.

It is hard to go on. How can I escape this life, this round of boredom and other births? O, that I could be ten and happy!

That’s the end but come on. Raise your hand if you don’t think this girl will 100% yeet herself into the sea and they’ll rule it “postpartum depression”? Anybody? No?

#book review #carolyn slaughter

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