#elim'ik

[conducting-cardassia]

such a flirt.

[zombified-queer]

Watching The Wire got me crying over here

[conducting-cardassia]

Of Sanctuaries

“... And as representatives of Cardassia’s first elected government -- as civilian leaders of our State -- it is our duty to help Cardassia heal. Not just to help her survive, not just to ensure there is order, food, medical care, or urban infrastructure--- but to help her heal and become whole again.”

Ekor held onto the rail as the street transport rattled in its tracks, coming around a bend and onto North Torr’s central thoroughfare with a metallic shriek that gave the lie to the very idea of sufficient urban infrastructure. He coughed behind his breathing mask, blinking to keep the reddish dust out of his eyes. His eye-crests were beginning to itch and burn, the sensitive scaling protesting under heavy use.

Across from him, an old woman in a mix of worn-down Cardassian clothes and cheap Federation-issue charity wear, wedged between fellow passengers, was struggling to keep her balance, eyes casting about vainly for a seat. There were none, since the carriages had been retrofitted for standing capacity and allowed only four seats each.

There was never enough space, and the elderly were the ones suffering the brunt of it. It wasn’t right. Ekor politely looked away, returning his attention to the cast running on the displays along the aisle.

“... to root out the illness that has caused our ruin. There can be no true rebirth for Cardassia, as long as those responsible for her downfall are still poisoning her very flesh.”

The speaker was young, perhaps in her mid thirties, and she spoke with passion. Cardassia knew all too well where that passion stemmed from: guilt of a violent past and fear of an uncertain future. It welled from barely closed wounds, grew thick behind breathing masks and veils, and resonated within many hearts. This woman was just one councilor, but many heard themselves in her voice: With a feeling of vague unease, Ekor realised she had the room.

He saw it in the illuminated faces of her fellow council members, and he heard it in the heavy silence of the commuters around him. They were listening.

Perhaps, if his life had taken a different turn those years ago, he would have agreed whole-heartedly to the propositions the council was currently discussing. He did agree with them. Still, his grip on the handrail tightened as he watched and listened.

As the old train approached East Torr, most passengers began to descend at the stations scattered throughout the northern part of the sector. Here, the blueish gray of industrially replicated plasticrete still dominated the view. Many of the emergency homes were still in use in North Torr, and it had only been a fortnight since Elim and he had been given permission to move out of theirs.

It had been a miserable, cramped place that consisted of only one room with a tiny kitchenette crammed into one corner. The bathroom was even smaller, and held a sorry excuse for a sonics-only shower stall, which used to go out of power for days at a time.

At first, they hadn’t had a replicator, as all private replicators had been confiscated for use by the public food banks. And without a replicator, there was no recycling unit, either. Whatever Elim or Ekor cooked -- though in truth it was Elim who did most of the cooking -- the smell of food nauseatingly lingered for days, which only became worse on those days when no food was to be had at all.

During the first few years, opening the windows at all had been unthinkable. The air filters needed replacing more than twice a year, and even with them running at full capacity, Ekor and Elim had needed to share an old fashioned vacuum cleaning unit with the other parties living in their building to even begin to handle the dust.

It had been impossible to keep it out; they carried it inside from the road, and it filled the air with glittery ash whenever they fluffed up a cushion or shook out a blanket -- especially during the times when they couldn’t keep the entrance door to their flat shut because the confined space made Elim’s skin crawl.

It was still inadvisable to air out chambers on most days, but for early mornings and directly after heavy rainfalls; the dust that hung around the atmosphere, clogging and permeating everything planet-wide, would need another five to ten years to settle.

As the tram stopped at Ekor’s station in East Torr with another metallic screech, he pulled his coat tighter around himself against the autumnal chill, glad that he had chosen a high necked tunic for today.

Here, the high-rise buildings were newer and cleaner, and although nothing of the old splendor of Coranum and Paldar was to be seen, the living was good. After the oppressive tightness of their old quarters, after relief packages in food, medication, and even technology, it felt like luxury to walk the last few blocks to their new home at the very top of one of the new residential buildings.

[conducting-cardassia]

Elim'ik sometimes sings melodies he's heard me play while he showers. He mangles them pretty badly, but I love it.

[conducting-cardassia]

That feeling when I only have to give him a look, and he knows exactly what I want.

That feeling when I realise he feels safe enough to just do it, no questions asked.

And that feeling when I look at him and see his smile, and know how happy he is. He doesn't expect anything in return, because it's already reward in itself. Pleasing me is all he wants, and I'm dizzy with that knowledge.

[conducting-cardassia]

Spoiling my little pet with an elaborate breakfast; we only have a couple of hours until he must be off. I am... enchanted.

@garaksass

[conducting-cardassia]

@garaksass

Kintsugi objects

Kintsugi (golden joinery) or Kintsukuroi (golden repair) is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum. As a philosophy it treats breakage and repair as part of the history of an object, rather than something to disguise.

[conducting-cardassia]

At the soirée, would you be nervous about allowing three other men the use of Your purse? Or worried that you would get jealous watching them and spoil the experience? You have always seemed pretty particular about the handling of your Property...

… And nothing has changed about that. I am very particular about the handling of my Property.

But these are individuals that have been in our mutual circle of friends for many years. I know them, and I trust them to understand and obey the rules.

I understand where you might have been getting the impression that my attitudes about handling my Property have changed, maybe become lax – it does seem to have come up rather frequently, lately. But, please, dear anon, do not mistake a coincidence for evidence that I have allowed Elim’ik to become cheap.

To be allowed access to My purse is understood, by all three of these individuals, to be an enormous privilege that comes with a lot of responsibility – in all senses, including the literal: they become answerable to me. To abuse the trust placed in them in any way – including developing a sense of entitlement, however slight – would be unforgivable, and result in the immediate and permanent revocation of all privileges they might have enjoyed.

These are men of impeccable manners and tastes, and I have vetted them rigorously.

You are right: I do have a jealous streak, and the restrictions on handling My purse do have something to do with that – I can admit to so much. They’re in place to assert my authority. But they’re not designed to keep us from enjoying intimacy. They’re not designed to primarily restrict, but rather, to protect.

They’re also there for Elim. They protect him from actions that would be a violation. And he knows it, and is profoundly grateful for it.

In the end, I decide. Do you know what this responsibility feels like? It’s powerful, but it is also very serious. Do you know what it would do to him if I made the wrong choice? Believe me when I say, whatever liberties I may grant with respect to My purse, are well reflected and rare.

But because they are, I would not be nervous during our soirée, but rather, enjoy it to the fullest capacity.

[conducting-cardassia]

My Dearest Beloved,

You’re having one of your difficult days today; I recognised it even as you woke up and your eyes would slip every now and then, staring into nothing -- except I was right there. You don’t know how I wish I could do something about it all.

I know you’ve been suffering from Withdrawal, and I wish I knew what it is that you’re lacking. I wish that anybody knew, so that they could tell me. I knew when I was gone, that your withdrawal was likely due to the shock of my sudden departure. But now I’m here, sitting right next to you, and there is nothing I would like more than to be able to help you.

They’re unspecific, your withdrawals, aren’t they? Those are the hardest to fight, and I have merely ever had a small taste of them.

I would like to think that it makes a difference: that I bring you your tea and sweeten your breakfast. That I help you get out of bed if you can bring yourself to it, or that I sit with you if you can’t.

You fall so very silent then.

I sometimes muse that it would be easier if there were tears, but if silence is all you can offer, then I will take your silence and cradle it within myself, just where I keep all of our memories.

I know how much you detest being trapped in this state. I’m proud of every moment you let me see you like this, every moment you let me take care of you. You’re mine, even if there is nothing about you that you deem worth my while. I assure you, all of you is worth every second of it, and more.

I know it doesn’t register as relevant right now, but I love you with all my being, not in spite of what you are, but because of it.

I know your hardest fights are fought in complete silence and without moving a muscle. I know your most hard-won victories sometimes are the few steps you take from the bed to the bathroom.

Never feel ashamed, my love, never feel inadequate.

I do not know if I will send this letter, but for now, I will end it. You’ve just asked for me, and I think I would like to play some music for you.

As you are mine, so am I yours,

Always.

Ekor

~~

@garaksass

[conducting-cardassia]

what's your favorite way to hold Elim in the *day*

By “in the day”, do you mean in public or in private? When we’re in public, I like to put my hand in the small of his back while we walk. It’s nice to feel him lean into the touch ever so slightly, and it’s assertive enough to serve as a subtle reminder. He likes to have subtle reminders, just as much as I like to give them.

A less subtle touch that I love (and absolutely cherish to be able to give in the public) is to the nape of his neck. It can be anything from soft to barely tolerable without wincing, but it always says the same thing: I own you. You are my property, and I do with you just as I please. It’s archaic and a mostly forgotten gesture even among Cardassians, but it used to be in wider use long ago. You would probably be hard pressed to find anyone who doesn’t have a visceral understanding of the gesture, even if they have never been told about its significance. (You can also imagine that such a touch would generally not be tolerated).

The only more explicit gesture that can be done with just a touch of the hand, is to touch his throat. I did that, when we agreed to become bonded. He said a single word, “yes.”

But I digress.

Another thing that I love about holding Elim (in private) is when I embrace him and he leans his head into the curve of my neck ridge. We stay that way for long times, either standing up or sitting down, and both are wonderful. Often, Elim is naked, and I can play with his scales while holding him in my arms. It’s a way for him to relax after a trying day, and clear his mind for other things.

[conducting-cardassia]

It does, Sir, it does all of the things you are suggesting. It makes me thoughtful, and it stirs me, and it arouses me. For some reason... it arouses me deeply to see you in my position, to see you expressing the same hesitation and struggle to become what you have today. To become what you are to me now. To know you share my experience, and your pride is nothing short of genuine and well-earned.

Sweet one,

it arouses me to let you see me like this, too. It arouses me to know that you know me. That you know how I came to be – because I would not have the confidence, I would not have the self knowledge that I have, had it not been for my time with T’Paran.

In short, I would not have what it takes to be good for you. I could never have guided you to where you are now, much less any further than that.

I would probably not have learned to appreciate how much courage submission takes. I would probably not have learned to appreciate you.

I would still feel guilty for my desires, and I would probably resent you for yours.

My time on Vulcan changed everything for me, and I’m forever indebted to T’Paran. A part of me that you will certainly understand cringes at how much I owe her, even though she would not see it that way.

The Vulcans have a saying, kaiidth: what is, is.

And in the end, being indebted to one who will not ever hold that debt over me is a very small price to pay for something so wonderful as we have today, little pet. Everything about it is veritable and truthful and yes, my pride in your achievements is so well-earned, my dearest love, that I can only hope it gives you the satisfaction and pride you deserve.

[conducting-cardassia]

Sir, the thought of you submitting to a talented Vulcan woman, playing for her while she watches... it has a profound effect.

Oh, does it, little one? Would you care to describe it for me, then? Does it make you thoughtful? What does it make you think? Does it answer or pose any questions about yourself? Or about me? Does it arouse you?

It wasn’t easy for me at the time. When she suggested it, I didn’t think I could. The proposal in itself was a very formal affair, and there were good (and logical) reasons for it…

I almost didn’t agree to it.

I told myself many things: that she was a non-Cardassian, and as such had no business knowing that much about me; it was a moot point, because at that point, she had already seen much more of me than I could afford.

I told myself that it wasn’t in my nature to submit; you know that isn’t true, because we are all trained to serve and submit, just not to a specific person.

I told myself that I didn’t trust her enough to let that happen; but in truth, I did trust her, personally. I understood why she was suggesting it; I understood she wanted to help me see something about myself, and I understood the reason she wanted that: to help me fulfill my potential as a conductor. I understood what she hoped to gain from this exchange, and while I was a little distrustful on just the basis that she was Not Cardassian, the connection we had established through music was much stronger than those misgivings.

I told myself all those things, but in the end it came down to this: I was desperately afraid.

I couldn’t begin to fathom what it would mean, what she would do to me – I only knew my own thoughts, my fantasies, and I condemned them as perverse. I knew that some of these things, she would probably demand of me (and she did, and more, much more). And I was scared.

She gave me all the time I needed to decide, but instructed me to come to her and inform her as soon as I had made the decision — no matter what the outcome was.

It was clever of her: She left me with an order that I would have no difficulty following: either as par for the course, as an apprentice is expected to follow the instructions they’re given… or, depending on my decision, as something else. Something more. 

I took days.

I did not see her during that time, and it was then that I started studying the Vulcan mental disciplines: for solitude, for clarity, for calm.

It is not necessary that I state how I decided in the end. You already know that.

But as she had required, when I realised I had decided, I sought her out immediately. My heart was pounding in my chest, but at the same time, my whole mind became absorbed in that one purpose: to do as she had told me – not as an apprentice does, but as my first act of submission. To walk up to her and look her in the eye, and say: ‘I agree to your proposal.’

You know, my dearest little one (or at least I hope you know), how very much admiration I have for your strength.

That day… what went on inside me as I walked there, alone, with nothing to listen to but my own racing thoughts… that is how I learned to appreciate what it means.

She was patient. She eased me into my new role gradually; in fact, in the beginning, she wouldn’t demand much of anything at all… and after a while, I began to long for an order.

That was how it started.

It was a long while before I played for her that way.

[conducting-cardassia]

#I am never moving from this position

I’m willing to take that risk, little one.

Two very soft and beautiful lizards reclining.

[conducting-cardassia]

what’s your favorite way to hold elim in the night?

I have to admit, I don’t have a clear favourite. I love to embrace him from behind – as long as his front is free and he’s facing the room, that is a very enjoyable thing for both of us.

I also like to just touch him intimately and fall asleep like that. I think that’s the easiest thing for him to accept, and we both enjoy the possessiveness of the gesture. Sometimes we wake up that way, too, even though we might not have fallen asleep like that.

I love for him to fall asleep on me as if I were a pillow for him… or, for that matter, if he falls asleep while resting his head in my lap. Once, he fell asleep draped over my lap while I tended to some rather beautiful bruises he had earned himself. He was exhausted, and it was one of our most intimate moments…

Sometimes (rarely), we fall asleep while he embraces me, which is glorious.

[conducting-cardassia]

Of course I train him. It’s my right and my obligation to do so. But training isn’t about how long he can hold an uncomfortable position, or how many of them he can memorise. It’s not about him developing a sense of what it is I want, so that he can always deliver. It’s not about making up a bunch of rules that will every so often earn him a correction, because he will eventually fail to follow all of them.

It’s about stopping to perform submission. It’s about not acting up and forcing me to be forceful, because that is not submission at all. It’s about acceptance, of the truth of his place, and it’s about honesty.

I often struggle to express how devoted I am to my wonderful bondmate. How the littlest things he does make my soul sing. A tremble, a hitch in his breath, the incredible expression in his eyes as he looks up to me on his knees... those things speak more loudly to me than any grand gesture of submission ever could. They tell me just what I do to him. They allow me the freedom of gentleness.

[conducting-cardassia]

Do you offer Julian rewards and reinforcement for his behavior? Are he and Elim similar in this regard?

I do. It’s noteworthy that when I first praised him for something he had done – something rather simple, but he’d done it well – he was surprised and a little disconcerted that something easy like that would merit any praise at all.

In fact, though, I believe having a consistent system of reinforcement is essential. And why wouldn’t I praise him if he does something well? It makes no sense to punish singularly and one-sidedly, without ever offering reward or praise. That would be demoralising, or downright harmful. Especially when there’s no discernable consistency behind it.

All of this goes for both Elim and Julian, but there are differences. Julian would be uncomfortable living the part that Elim does. It’s about play for him, mostly – though certainly not exclusively. It may be intense play, but at the end of the day, it’s still play, and he decides when he wants it… and that is completely alright.

I know what he can give, and what he can’t.

I do not own him, in any sense of the word. So you are right, in a way, dear anon. Julian and Elim are not dissimilar in that specific regard, but while the “mechanics” of reinforcement might be very alike between them, the mental impact is not.

Elim is Elim’ik. And as long as he does not leave, he always will be.

It means he has the status of consenting property. It means I am one hundred percent responsible for his well-being. It means I am liable for his actions. It means my word is law to him (and that is why it is so important that I speak well).

And there is a big, big difference between what he has, and what Julian has.