#i just cant remember an instance where it was just him and commander having a moment without everything else immediately looming over them

[icebrooding]

I think part of why I'm getting writer's block on certain scenes in Wildflowers is because there is no real canon reference to base from. Since the earlier chapters are going to have more 'downtime' and quiet moments between Kaushue and Trahearne until things start getting Intense.

And when I think of Trahearne, I think of how you meet this guy, but then right away it's 'help Arlon & Pellam/Carys & Tegwen/Malyck', and then it's 'find out about Caladbolg and defeat Mazdak', and then he's gone until Claw Island. Then everything goes south and it leads to the rest of your time with him spent building and leading the Pact to defeat Zhaitan. You don't see him again until late Season 2, and he's just been busy focusing on Kralkatorrik, and then Mordremoth. And then it's setting up base in the Silverwastes. Then it's defending the Silverwastes. Then it's Heart of Thorns, and...

You get the idea.

Basically, you never really get any kind of 'downtime' with his character. He is always busy planning something or focusing on some task that needs doing right away, or his military work. The only time this guy ever relaxes is when the Commander straight up forces him to.

I don't really know what he is like when not focusing on some bigger picture, because we never get to see that. Which I feel is very...sad, but it speaks to his character; this guy who just never. Stops.

So it's hard to imagine what he'd be like when not only has he 'stopped', but he's had years to acclimatise to being able to rest and not have to focus on this or that constantly. What he's like when the brakes have been put in place and he has to find a way to exist in a normal capacity.

[miceenscene]

Fealty

female shepard/garrus vakarian | pwp | roleplay

wc: 8.9k

summary: Garrus & Shepard find some escapism in the midst of a war. | This is the product of listening to Rimsky’s Scheherazade too many times whilst pondering the inherent eroticism of blood oaths.

warnings: none, just sexy times galore

an: in this house, service switch Garrus hours are 24/7

ao3 | Masterlist

The Incident was an accident.

The Incident was an accident, and Garrus swore he would maintain that story to his dying day. It was not his fault that when Shepard really got him going sometimes odd things came out of his mouth. If anything, it was Shepard’s fault. Her and her flexible, strong, smooth body did unspeakable things to him that he really couldn’t rationally explain outside of the moment.

The night of The Incident, they’d started in the elevator, cautious at first then building as it became clear no one would interrupt them, then shedding armor carelessly in the hallway just outside her quarters. They’d made it to the desk at least for the first round. Then half a round against the fishtank, till finally she had him pinned down on the bed. His hands gripped her waist, following her rhythms eagerly, as she found her pleasure on top of him. She was warm and clenching around him as his head swam with Shepard.

There was a phenomenon that Garrus had long since noticed, beginning really from the first time they ‘blew off steam’. In the run up to Shepard’s peaks, he found himself… needing, craving, desperate to give her what she desired. Probably some combination of turian martial instinct–she was still the commander of the ship he served on, even if she claimed she wasn’t his commander anymore–and plain attraction to the woman herself. As well as his own perfectionist tendencies. If he was going to do a job, he wanted to do it The Best… and apparently that also applied to giving Shepard orgasms.

And it was somewhere in the middle of this phenomenon that it happened. The Incident. Shepard was close, close enough for them both to taste it. And she gave him an order, deeper more right there. And, as he happily obeyed, it just came out of his mouth in a soul-deep rumbling groan.

“Yes, your majesty.”

There was half a second before they both heard what he’d just said. Then it clicked. Glass shattered in the forefront of Garrus’ mind as a thousand warning lights suddenly started flashing.

Meanwhile, Shepard paused, teetering on her edge, and looked down at him. Her face was flushed, chest heaving with exertion, eyes over-bright. “What did you–”

It was a dirty move, but to distract her, Garrus pressed his thumb to her clit and canted his hips just so, shoving her into bliss with a loud exclamation. She pulled him down with her, both of them shuddering and swearing in each other’s arms.

His afterglow, however, was undercut with a strong tint of embarrassment. Luckily, nothing seemed to have bothered Shepard, who melted on top of him with her head resting on his chest. He trailed a few talons between her shoulder blades, making her hum and relax even more. Maybe she’d drift straight off to sleep, and in the morning his stupid mouth would be back under control.

But she shifted to the side into the waiting crook of his arm and molded around him in the usual, seemingly physically impossible for how perfect it was, way. “I should go clean up,” she sighed after another few minutes of quiet, stretching leisurely.

He hummed an agreement, relaxing now that it seemed his little outburst had been forgotten. “I’ll take care of the sheets,” he replied, nuzzling a kiss to the top of her head.

“Thank you,” she murmured, returning the kiss to the front of his carapace. With a soft smile, she got up. His hand traced the line down from her shoulder to her wrist to the tips of her fingers before she was out of reach. He admired the languid lines of her figure as she retreated, the bathroom door hissing shut behind her.

That was a close one.

Though he really should have known that his dodging skills were not that great. Or rather, Shepard’s ability to lay in wait should never be underestimated. Reckoning came a few evenings later. They were back in Shepard’s quarters again, but this time both reading through reports on her couch. Shepard liked to lean back against him and wrap his arm across her torso. Garrus liked it too because it was easy to lean over and stroke his mandible over her silky hair occasionally.

They’d been diligent for nearly three hours now, wading through the mounting horrors of war, but Garrus felt his eyes start to glaze over as he opened the next report from the Hierarchy. He blinked a few times to bring himself back into focus, only for it to happen less than two minutes later. Alright, perhaps it was time to call it a day.

His focus shifted to Shepard, a few tempting ideas popping up in the back of his mind. He brushed her hair to one shoulder so he could nuzzle a kiss to the other side of her neck. She hummed and her hand brushed the side of his face, but he didn’t have her full attention yet. That would have to change. He trailed the tip of his tongue up the side of her neck, up to her ear and over the shell of it, making the muscles in her core clench.

“Done already?” she asked, her voice just slightly airy.

“Done for tonight,” he rumbled. His hand covered hers on the datapad, updated casualty estimates from Earth. The numbers just never stopped growing. “You should be too.” She let him take the pad from her, setting it down on the coffee table, before laying back with her head in his lap.

“Perhaps you have a point.” Mentally setting aside the unfixable, she gave him a tired smile. “Did you want to go to bed? ...Orrr?”

“I’m a turian, Shepard. I’m pretty much always up for ‘orrr’.”

She laughed quietly and sat up to straddle his lap, arms resting on his shoulders and making his subvocals start to rumble at her proximity.

“How about you?” he asked, returning to his earlier work on her neck and sliding his hands across her waist. “Are you up for ‘orrr’?”

She hummed and leaned into his ministrations. “That depends.”

He really should have seen the trap, but he was too focused on trailing talon tips up the shallow valley of Shepard’s spine to see it at the time. “On?”

“Are you going to call me ‘your majesty’ again?”

Crap.

He froze, hands under her shirt, mouth open on her neck. “You heard that?”

“Yes, Garrus. I do tend to hear what you proclaim when you’re inside me.” She pulled back, making him look at her. “You mind explaining that one to me?”

He shook his head. “It’s nothing, forget it.” And he tried to duck back in to distract her again, but she moved back once more.

“It’s not nothing. I saw your face as you said it…” There was a teasing light in her eyes, coupled with a similar smirk across her lips. “Oh, come on. Remember I was the one who pitched that whole ‘let’s pretend we’re having a first date’ thing?”

“There’s a difference between faking the date we never got and… this.”

“I don’t mind taking things a step away from reality… seems almost a necessity these days.” Her eyes half-turned towards where the datapad still lay.

That was a solid point. But some deep shameful part of him clenched at owning up to this particular non-reality. Her teasing look dimmed as he didn’t budge a metaphorical inch. Thank the spirits, it seemed like she might let this go. But he was caught off-guard when she cupped his face in her hands.

“There is nothing you could tell me about yourself that would make me love you less. You know that right?”

He flinched from how deeply she struck. Consciously, yes. He trusted her when she said she loved him. The subconscious application was… tricky at times to prove that it had been completely accepted. Not all the time, just rare instances. Like right now.

He nodded. “I know.”

“Okay. Good.” She tipped her forehead to rest it against his. He was the luckiest damn turian in the entire galaxy. And he loved her just as much; he hoped she knew even though he hadn’t said it just yet.

She smiled softly as she sat back. “You don’t have to tell me the explanation if you don’t want to. But…” She shrugged and moved off his lap, sitting on the couch next to him and picking back up her datapad. “If you did, maybe I could… play along.”

The last two words came out just a touch rougher around the edges, sending a fizzing thrill to his gut and calling his bluff all at the same time. Just like she’d no-doubt intended. A whole new host of tempting ideas popped up in the back of his mind, their sum total enticing enough to overwhelm the shame.

He was actually going to do this.

“How… much do you know about turian history?” he asked slowly, picking up his own datapad in a feigned casual manner to have something to look at.

“Very little.”

“Well, it’s not as much turian history as… turian historical fiction.” He sucked in a breath for the strength to power through to the end of the explanation. “A… scandalous novel I read as a young recruit. Set during the unification wars, about a warlord and… her right-hand warrior.”

He could feel her gaze land on him, but he maintained focus on the words-turned-unparsable-shapes of his datapad. Embarrassment singed the back of his neck as silence filled the room. His first instinct was right; this was a silly fantasy, best kept to himself and not shared with someone whose respect he craved like Shepard’s.

He heard her shift and then her hand was under his chin, tilting his head to look up at her. His breath caught in his upper chest when he met her eyes. She’d stood, making her taller than he was from where he was sitting. Her posture was taught, like on the battlefield, yet somehow tempting at the same time. Strength and power radiated from her. A smile hinted in her eyes, but her mouth was set into a stoic line.

“Do you want me to be your queen, Garrus?” she asked in a low voice that shifted like sand under a desert wind.

“Yes.”

One dune after another, the horizon seemed as far now at dusk as it had been at dawn. Always dancing and shifting, no matter how steadfastly the General moved towards it. The glaring suns had beat unrelenting against his helmet all day, scorching his armor and the sand beneath him. But as they slipped beneath the horizon, he finally caught sight of his destination in the far distance. A camp of tents lay in the shadow of the mesa, spotted with torchlight and waving flags of red and black.

A small flurry of alarm kicked up at his approach to the camp, then stilled as he was recognized by the watch. His men greeted him warmly, but the General didn’t slow. He headed straight for the largest tent at the dead middle of the camp, trimmed in gold with two guards at the entrance. Momentum pulled him inside the tent where he finally stopped, removing his helmet and falling to one knee on the sumptuous rug across the floor.

It was scent that whispered of her arrival, more than sound or sight. Cool jasmine with the slight tang of tempered steel drifted towards him, surrounded him, familiar and intoxicating. Then the soft drag of a silk robe across carpet met his ears, followed by her voice, low and calm as a viper.

“You have returned, General Vakarian.”

“Yes, my Queen,” he answered.

“Rise and report.”

He stood and breath caught in his chest as he finally saw her, his Queen. Every time he saw her, it was first her eyes that captivated him, green as a forest and piercing as a dagger. Her waist-length crimson hair was loose, brushed to gleaming over one shoulder, and she was wrapped in a deep blue robe. She appeared unarmed, perhaps even vulnerable to the untrained eye. But he knew her better than that. She was dangerous, yet all the more beguiling for it.

At his prolonged silence, she lifted a single brow and turned to a small table at the opposite side of the tent that bore a pitcher and a few silver goblets. The General opened the bag he’d carried for days now and placed a sealed scroll on the wide table in the center of the room on which a large map was unfurled.

“As you requested, Lord Tulius has been removed. His head decorates the gates to his city.”

She didn’t pause her calm movements, pouring two goblets before turning back to face him. “And?”

“The new Lord has sworn five hundred soldiers when we ride on Gerou next month.”

She neared, jasmine and steel surrounding him once more, but she did not offer the second goblet. “And?”

“And Ardaraka will also be joining with one hundred archers and sending tribute.”

Her mouth remained steady, but an approving light shone in her eyes as she held out the goblet to him. The wordless approval rested on his brow brighter than any crown. He took the goblet carefully, gloved fingers brushing hers for a moment. Never looking away from the other, they both sipped the wine. Spices blossomed on his palette, heady and strong.

“Your work is always exemplary, General,” she said, stepping around him. Her shoulder just brushed his as she passed, burning him through his armor. “But this is to be commended.” She rounded the table and took another thoughtful sip as she sat down in the chair at the head. “Such efforts should not go unrewarded. Tell me what prize you would accept, and it shall be granted to you.”

She was a woman of her word. Up to half her kingdom could be granted to him if he but asked for it. As it was–

“There is only one prize that I desire.”

Her eyes locked to his, gaze as scorching as the suns and twice as rich. Then she set her cup down and relaxed back in the chair, a smile finally playing on her lips.

“Come and claim it then.”

Wasting no precious time, the General shed his gloves and rounded the table to stand before his Queen, eyes boring into hers, smoldering hot enough to catch flame. She offered up her hand, which he took in his, smoothing a thumb over her battle-calloused fingers before pressing a kiss to the knuckles.

“I swear to guard my Queen from harm and, with either my life or my death, ensure her continued dominion,” he whispered, repeating part of the oath he’d taken so many years ago. The solemn vow was carved on his spirit, the ethos of his life from that day onward. He turned her hand over and kissed her palm, then her wrist, feeling her steady pulse on his mouth plates. “Until my Queen releases me, death takes me, or the world ends.”

When he looked back to her face, her lips were slightly opened, eyes wide and utterly enraptured. Deep satisfaction suffused through him at the sight. Glimpses of the woman behind the crown were rare, and he coveted them jealously. For as assuredly he would follow her into death, some naive part of him longed to share her life even more. The awed warmth of her gaze kindled something deep inside him, something precious and pure. Something to be thought of only in the most private of moments and not yet voiced. Perhaps never to be spoken, only shown.

He knelt before her, basking in her rapt attention. With great care, he reached for her ankle, palm sliding up the smooth skin of her calf before stopping at her knee, which he lifted and placed on his shoulder as he moved in closer–submerging himself in jasmine and steel. Pulling her robe open, he found her completely bare underneath save for an encrusted dagger that was wrapped in a holster about her thigh.

He’d given the dagger to her not long after he came into her service. The reminder of how close she kept it on her person still sent a low shudder down his spine. Never unarmed that was his Queen, he mused, subvocals starting to purr. He traced the leather strap first with his fingers, then his mouth plates before drifting upwards and pulling her closer.

This near, her clearest scent filled his lungs–rich as earth, complex and mouth-wateringly bitter. Her thighs resting on his shoulders and his hands on her hips, he stared up at her in both wonder and desire. Her usual stoic front was holding strong for the moment, but he could see something stirring beneath her surface. He held there, waiting for the final permission. She granted it in a silent nod.

Not looking away, he kissed her center, making her eyes flutter shut momentarily. But she quickly regained her composure. It was always a battle with her, a testing of wills–he wouldn’t have it any other way. Determined, he delved deeper, still holding her eyes for as long as he could. Her hand rested at the back of his head, fingers just brushing his most sensitive area as he found hers. The sinews in her neck clenched as he circled and lapped, pushing and teasing her till she yielded for him. It came as his tongue slipped inside her warmth. Her eyes shut, mouth dropped half-open, and her hand on his head clenched, nails biting at his skin. A half-strangled gasp met his ears, sweeter than symphonies, rousing his own desire with its call.

Now it wasn’t a battle, but a crusade. Or perhaps a gauntlet, a test of his mastery of her pleasure. He never wanted to just satisfy her, to just sate her. He wanted to ruin her. To make every other partner pale in comparison. None could eclipse her in his eyes. It felt an honest, if perhaps hopeless, endeavor to strive for the same honor from her.

He pulled away from her, earning a low whimper of protest from his Queen that kicked his subvocals rumbling even lower. But he didn’t move far. His thumb circled over her center, drawing her attention, till he nipped the sensitive inner skin of her thigh. Her hips bucked at change in sensation, muscles rippling under his palms. He apologized with a swipe of his tongue, though he knew it would leave a mark. A reminder of his presence just for her.

Her other hand gripped his shoulder, a burning beacon that she was close to her end. He could retreat now, suffer her temporary wrath, for another valiant run for glory. Some nights, she let him indulge himself, bringing her closer and closer to her edge without letting her fall over. But her hand on the back of his head pulled him back to her center. No, she was not to be toyed with tonight. So he gladly surrendered to her will. Not replacing his finger, he dipped his tongue back inside her.

It took only two coordinated strokes before she fell, shuddering and clenching and gasping. She pulled him so close, curling over him as if to blur the boundaries between his being and hers. Tension shattered through her core, her limbs, stacking to insurmountable heights. Till, like a candle flame, it vanished, leaving only boneless, radiating warmth in its absence.

His Queen dropped against the back of the chair, hands relaxing their grip on him but not moving away. Her chest rose and fell as she struggled to rewrite her composure. Though before she completely succeeded, a blissful smile spread across her lips. He wished he could save it somehow, tuck it away in a cedar box at the bottom of his armory, where it would be safe and cherished as long as he drew breath.

She swallowed and let out a low hum of contentment that settled in the back of his skull. “Commendable, General,” she said, her voice smoky as torch light. “As always.”

“It is my honor, your majesty.”

“Yes, it is.” The corners of her lips tugged in amusement but didn’t spread wide again.

His subvocals rolled with his unquenched thirst, perhaps she could feel them from where his palms slid down her hips. He pulled her silk robe back into place before retreating reluctantly, standing and stepping back from her throne. She offered her hand again, which he happily took and helped her stand.

“Such… valiant effort on behalf of my realm deserves more than one reward, don’t you agree?”

He tipped his head in deference, deep parts of him agreeing with her far more vehemently. “If you wish to honor me more, who am I to deny you?”

She stepped towards him, close but not touching. Jasmine and steel surrounded him again, sending his core muscles clenching. Her chin lifted, tilting her face as if she wished to kiss him. Like a comet, he was pulled helplessly into her orbit. But she did not meet him. She, instead, hovered a hair’s breadth apart. His control shuddered as he held there with his hands clasped behind his back, knuckles paling for the effort.

After several tense seconds, her gaze met his, curiosity and something like satisfaction in her eyes. “You would deny me nothing, would you?”

“Nothing,” he repeated in a fervent whisper. His plates were starting to itch from how close yet far she was. But he refused to move till she gave him leave.

She pulled away yet rewarded his restraint with the backs of her fingers stroking along his scarred mandible. Though he couldn’t help but lean into the touch, brushing a kiss to her knuckles as her hand dropped away. He was only mortal.

“Come.” She offered her hand and led him away from the table. There was a curtained doorway that divided the war room from her sleeping quarters of the tent. She pulled back the thick fabric and stepped inside, inviting him into her most private space.

The room was not overly large, nothing like her chambers back in her fortress. Her armor, spear, and shield were displayed proudly next to the entrance. There was a space for bathing and dressing. A smaller table for her own use tucked in the corner. But the room was dominated by the large bed in the center. Not four postered and curtained like in her ancient estate by the sea, a bedroll made for travel but still strewn with cushions and luxurious enough for royalty. The scent of her hovered in the room like incense. A few candles in the corners were the only source of light, casting soft shadows around the edges of her figure.

Once inside, she didn’t let go of his hand. Instead, her nimble fingers travelled up his arm, removing vambraces and pauldrons with practiced ease. She untied his cuirass from around his carapace, fingertips brushing against his sides, before setting it carefully aside with the other pieces. When strapped with his armor and weapons, he hardly noticed the weight of them anymore. But as she pulled off each piece, breath came easier to him, though he wasn’t sure if it was relief or anticipation that filled his lungs so readily. Every plate of steel gone felt like a skin removed, stripping away the mantle of General to leave behind just him for her.

She went to remove his greaves, moving to kneel before him, when he reflexively stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. She shouldn’t– But her eyes snapped up to him, sharp and flinty.

Would you deny me this?

No, he would not. So he pulled his hand back, humbled by the rare view and trying to deny how the unique angle stirred up memories filled with desire.

She pulled off the last of his armor and then rose, her half-smile distracting him from her hand till it dragged up his completely spread plates over his pants. That made him flinch and suck in a sharp breath, sparks leapt onto the crumbling tower of his composure.

“Too much?” she asked in a low voice. His eyes opened to find her looking at him intensely, brows flickering just towards each other.

He shook his head. “Never.”

She repeated the action, but he was ready for her this time. The gentle pressure emanated out through his whole person, making his subvocals sputter and stop for a moment. He was absolutely weeping in his sheath, but she stopped before it became too much.

With just one hand at his waist, the sensation muted from his underclothes but knee-buckling all the same, she urged him to sit on the foot of her bed. He was closer to her face this way, giving him a chance to admire the sharp line of her jaw, how her eyes were inky black haloed with thin green. She was breathtaking on the field and away.

Breaking all contact with him, she edged into the space between his knees, commanding his complete attention without a word. Not letting him look away, she loosened the tie of her robe. It slipped off her shoulders and pooled on the ground, leaving her only in her dagger. He found an anchor in the silk sheets beneath him, talons gripping the fabric for dear life. Her eyes proclaimed proudly that she knew exactly what the sight of all of her was doing to him. His gaze greedily swept over her figure, like a bandit discovering a pirate’s hoard, taking in the exotic curves and admiring the few pale scars. The need to put his hands on her and pull her close scalded his palms. He longed to kiss every freckle that dotted her skin, to hear her gasp his name as he buried himself inside her. She let him admire for a few breathless moments, but twisted the dagger when she lifted her holstered leg to rest her foot on his knee.

“Would you help me, General?” she asked calmly, as if asking for him to bring her the weather reports.

He swallowed, hard. Then again. No, growling subvocals would not allow words she could understand now. So he instead simply obeyed, unwinding the leather strap before pulling it through the buckle. His hands only trembled slightly, but stilled as the steadying weight of the dagger dropped into his palm. He offered it to her, pride shoring him up as he persevered under her visual onslaught.

She took it from him and turned away, long hair tossing over her shoulder and brushing against his face for just a moment. “Would you want some Aephusian Ale?” she asked, sashaying away with a pronounced hip swing that he could not ignore. “I know how much you enjoy it.”

“Of course,” he rumbled, dropping his gaze away from her to gain his bearings more. A few deep breaths cleared his head enough for her return, proffering a dark glass bottle. His attention could not be afforded anywhere but on her as he took a sip, not quite paying attention till the taste registered.

Garrus blinked. “This… this is actually Aephusian Ale,” he said, looking down at the bottle in his hand. It tasted exactly like the drink in the book. Spirits, where had Shepard found this?

“Of course it is,” his Queen said in a low voice, pulling him back in as she stepped closer. “You think I don’t know my best General’s favorite drink?”

He smiled softly up at her. “I am humbled by your attentions,” the General replied.

She moved even closer, nearly touching him now. He could feel the warmth radiating lowly off her skin. It grew stronger as she leaned towards him, head angling once again for a kiss. And like before, she stopped a grain of sand away, though this time a strangled whine snuck up the back of his throat before he quickly cut it off.

A gloating look floated through her eyes. “Your orders are to retreat, General.”

Unsure precisely what she meant, he frowned slightly up at her. She waved her hand and it clicked. It wasn’t graceful, but he moved backwards across the bed, only stopping when the back of his carapace met the cushions already set up to support him. As if to make up for his lack of coordination, his Queen prowled towards him, a hungry look simmering in her eye. Feeling trapped in the very best way, he set aside the ale.

She crawled all the way up to straddle his lap, dropping herself the last inch and expelling a soft groan from his gut at the sudden contact. But it transformed in a low growl as she rocked her hips, rubbing her sodden center over his sheath. His swollen cock begged to be released, trapped by her and his pants, and her steady, eddying pressure was delicious torture. But she was nefarious and brutal, his Queen, and she reminded him of that as her arms wound around his shoulders, fingers trailing up his neck to the skin under his fringe. He could have borne the burden without complaint had she not also dipped her head and finally pressed that craved kiss not to his mouth but to his vulnerable throat.

That finally broke him.

“Please,” he bit out, head dropped back in utter submission. “Please, your majesty.”

She kissed his neck once, twice more, and then bit down. It wasn’t enough to leave a mark through his skin, but his whole body jerked, jostling her and halting her slow grinding. Without any rush, she lifted herself up off his lap to meet his eyes, a palm smoothing down his fringe.

“Yes, General? Is there something you desire?” she asked in that same calm voice.

“You.” His subvocals were shredded with clawing need. “Always you.”

Hands cradling his face, she tilted his head forward enough to press her brow to his in a turian kiss. The simple yet profound gesture blew right through simple carnal desire, landing square in the deep unspeakable truth at his very core. Eyes shut, he pressed up against her as fervently as the angle would allow, letting his subvocals sing with the words he didn’t dare to utter.

She pulled back for a moment, soothing fingers brushing along his mandibles, then leaned back in, lips so close to his mouth. But this time, she whispered, “Kiss me.”

And he did, surging forward to claim her mouth with his. After so much build-up and denial, it rapidly deepened to something needy and demanding. Technique and skill were completely abandoned in favor of pure sensation. He needed her tongue tangled with his, her breath in his lungs. Oh, though it was so blissfully wonderful to taste her again, it was not enough. Nothing less than all of her would suffice.

“Please, my Queen,” he rumbled, tracing his mandible along the smooth line of her jaw. “I need you. Please.”

She kissed him once more, rising up on her knees to break the pressure on his waist and tilt his head back as far as it would go. Her hand rested on his throat, fingertips tracing small circles on either side and pulling uncontrollable shudders from him with every small movement.

“I’m already yours. Take me,” she whispered with a slight smile.

She obviously had not been prepared for his attack as she let out a small cry when he flipped their positions, tossing her back on the bed with as much care as he could muster. It turned into a breathless chuckle as he pulled away just long enough to wrench his trousers off. A deep groan left him as he was finally freed from his sheath, relief sparkling down his spine and numbing the back of his skull.

“Can always count on you to be ready for battle,” she mused.

He had plans to remove his shirt too and possibly say something witty back. But all thoughts were driven from his head as he caught a glimpse of his Queen completely splayed on the bed, dark eyes taking in his figure, her hand sliding down her stomach with obvious intent. He caught it before it reached its destination, pressing another quick kiss to her pulse. She groaned softly at being interrupted.

“I would deny you nothing, your Majesty. But it is my honor to be the only one to please you this evening,” he purred, nipping a kiss to her collarbone.

“Then what are you waiting for?” She sounded annoyed, though there was a telling glimmer in her eyes that spoke otherwise. He lifted one of her legs into the crook of his elbow and leaned forward, just enjoying the low whimpers she made as he rocked through her heat.

“Absolutely nothing.” And he kissed her again as he finally joined with his Queen. Twin groans floated through the air of the tent as he immediately set a deep and thorough pace. Her clenching heat around him demanded his full attention, everything else but her disappeared from his mind. Her tongue tangled with his, and her fingers trailed down his fringe.

He kissed every inch of her skin that he could reach, running his tongue along her throat, nuzzling mandibles across her shoulders. She returned the favor with her own kisses up his neck, though his steady rhythm stuttered when she bit him again. Spirits, she knew him too well. Though he knew her just the same, and so he left his own nips along her collarbones, the base of her neck, anywhere that could be hidden by her armor. The evidence of their love was just for their knowledge.

Her low swears and strangled groans were the sweetest tune he’d ever heard. But he wanted the full symphony. An honest-to-the-gods whimper escaped her throat when he stilled and pulled back. Oh. He’d proudly wear that as a medal of honor on his breast if she could mint it.

“I’m not leaving,” he promised breathlessly. He lifted her hips and slid a cushion underneath, changing the angle of their meeting. “Still good?”

She clenched her inner muscles around him with a smirk.

“Fuck,” he groaned in answer to his own question.

“You have not yet been relieved of duty, Gen–” The end of her word changed into a deep moan as he rocked once, testing the new arrangement on his knees. Holding her open with his grip on her leg, he moved again, enjoying thoroughly watching the collision ripple through her body and hearing the echoes in her voice. Her hands stretched out for him but failed to reach their mark as he pressed the pad of his thumb to her clit, circling in the pattern he knew she liked best. She went fully lax, granting him full command over her pleasure.

“Look at me,” he pleaded, more subvocal than voice. But she obeyed. She demanded his continual gaze with hers, and neither looked away as he drove them steadily to their peak. Her acquiescence to his strategy started to crumble, however, as they drew close. A hand found purchase on his hip, pulling him closer, deeper, More. He eagerly surrendered what advantages distance allowed him in movement for the feeling of tucking his face against her neck.

Her cries abruptly spiked in pitch, and he just managed to catch her mouth with his for one last kiss before she reached bliss. Her body shuddering in his arms, and her slick heat clenching around him finished him off. Gratification shot down his spine, white hot and addictingly pure. He held tight to her, muscles locking as he convulsed once, twice, three times. Then every bit of tension in his body evaporated, all thought reducing to a rich blissfulness, thick enough to float away in.

A five-fingered hand rested on the back of his neck, stroking slowly up and down. Reflexes drunk-slow, he opened his eyes to find his Queen half-beneath him, looking nearly as relaxed as he felt. She caught his eye and a slow smile spread across her face, growing so fond it bubbled up into a low affectionate laugh. He pressed his brow to hers, a hand slipping into her hair, and laughed with her.

The air between them was saturated with the Unspoken. But it could barely be anymore blatantly stated than in his every small kiss upon her cheek. Every adjustment of limbs so they fit together even neater than before. Every slowing breath they shared as more one than two.

Her hand insinuated itself between his tunic and the small of his back, stroking his spine before tugging on the shirt.

“Remove this,” she murmured, eyes half open. “Your Queen demands it.”

“I don’t want to harm you,” he replied lowly, a hand smoothing over her bare hip.

“Do you think I’m as fragile as that?”

He shook his head. “Not fragile… precious.”

That wide eyed, awed look returned to her face, so wholly honest it took his breath away for a moment. Then she moved, crawling over him and kissing him once before pulling him up to sitting. She removed his tunic and then wrapped him in a long hug. The steady presence of her skin on his was centering in a way he couldn’t quite describe. The world, the galaxy fell into balanced order every time.

He hummed as she kissed his neck, slowly, luxuriously. Desire stirring slightly with the delicate attentions. She made her way leisurely up the length, pressing a final kiss to the side of his head then whispering, “You are so precious to me.”

His breath caught in his chest, but she didn’t pull away. More kisses made their way down his mandible then meeting his mouth in gentle caresses. She cradled his head in her arms, a hand brushing down his fringe.

“I don’t know where I’d be without you.” The look in her eyes was so fervently honest, he couldn’t do anything but stare up at her. The lines between Shepard and his Queen blurring till he wasn’t sure which one continued speaking. “I owe you my life more times over than I can ever repay. I never want to know what life is like without you at my side.”

His hands slid up her spine to pull her down for another kiss, adamant and just shy of bruising. “You’ll never have to know,” he swore to her, brow pressed to hers. “Not while it’s in my power. You’ll never know.”

She nodded and kissed him again, her breath shaking for reasons unrelated to the need in his touch. Her hands roved his body, finger tips slipping between plates, palms over his waist, while her mouth stayed steady on his. But there was no teasing in her touch this time, just devotion so pure it humbled him to receive it.

“Let me show you,” she whispered before kissing him deeply. “Please.”

He nodded, and her kisses drifted down his neck, across his cowl and down his carapace. Every muscle in his body clenched as he finally realized her intention. She stopped and looked up at him, but he was already nodding when her gaze met his. It turned warm and fond, and she settled on her stomach between his legs, pressing a chaste kiss to his hip.

He hadn’t reemerged from his sheath yet, though his plates were still fully relaxed. However, as she started drawing slow designs with her fingertips across his waist, he could already feel the efficacy in her small gestures. The sight of her was transfixing, hypnotic. Every puff of warm breath across his most sensitive skin electrified him.

As she kissed him, an unstoppable moan dropped from his mouth. She smiled up at him and kept at her work, persistent and skilled. Every time after, he swore to himself that he’d exaggerated in his memory how good her mouth felt on him. And every time, she proved him wrong. It took no time at all till he slid out and directly into her waiting mouth. It was so perfect, it seared.

“Shepard,” he moaned, talons gripping the bed underneath him for dear life. She pulled back, giving him a break from the onslaught.

“Too much?” she asked. He looked down and nearly moaned again, shuddering instead. A slight blush had formed over her cheeks, and her hand was resting loosely at his base.

“You have ruined me… for anyone but you… my Queen,” he said in reply.

She smirked. “Good.” You’re mine. And she approached again less directly, slight kisses, gentle passes with her tongue. He willfully surrendered to her, focusing on her touch, her presence.

It always felt an honor to receive such… attention from one such as her. But right now, it felt more a gesture of trust. She could trust him to give her only what she desired. And whole-heartedly, he felt the very same. Her moaning while his length buried as deep as she could take him nearly brought him to his metaphorical knees. He’d follow her anywhere, even to his own blissful end, which she seemed very determined to deliver him to. But perhaps–

He rested a hand on her shoulder, whining at both the sight and feel of her soft mouth sliding up his length. It made his thoughts scatter like sand under a gale wind.

“Together,” he managed, swallowing hard to try and control his roiling subvocals. “I want… together. Please?”

She smiled and kissed his tip, sending one last jolt through his system, before retreating. “Since you asked so nicely.”

He had to literally shake sense back into his head before he could move from where she’d left him. “Come here,” he said, shifting up to his knees and stumbling forward for the effort.

“You alright?” Her voice bobbed in amusement.

“Like I said, you ruined me.” He took her hand and pulled her close, kissing her once, then again for good measure. Then he moved behind her, pulling her back to his front.

“Oh,” she said slowly as he rocked between her thighs. His subvocals sang in agreement. She smelled so good–salt and jasmine and them. She was so warm already. The thought that pleasuring him ignited her in the best way burned up the last of his patience.

He pulled her hair aside and nibbled a kiss to her neck. “I want you,” he breathed against her ear.

“Please,” she whispered back. She guided him inside her, both of them letting out a long slow breath at their joining. His hands roved her body, smoothing across hips and circling her breasts, as he encouraged her to sit back into his lap. They weren’t joined as deeply as before, but this angle always brushed against her most sensitive places with the slightest of movement. An advantage he exploited to immediate benefits.

Rocking together felt more natural than breathing. Her hands intertwined with his, pressing one down between her legs and the other to her breast. He gave her the pressure she desired gladly and continued whispering a low growl in her ear.

“You don’t understand how thoroughly you have ruined me for anyone that isn’t you. I couldn’t want my own kind anymore even if I tried.”

She answered with a wordless cry, her spine undulating in a way that should have been physically impossible and was so alluringly easy for her. Still he kept up the rhythm, subvocals purring at how perfect she felt against him, around him.

“How could anyone measure up after I’ve had you? My Queen… my Commander.”

She shuddered and moaned, a hand reaching back to grip his neck. “Your voice–Gar–General–”

“That’s it, my Queen. Focus on me and let go.” He let loose a subvocal rumble loud enough that she had to hear it. Her answering cry echoed around the tent.

They hadn’t been particularly quiet up to this point, and their involvement was a poorly kept secret. Still, the thought of any guard just outside hearing her right now, knowing what she sounded like in rapture. He caught her mouth with his, swallowing her cry and turning it to whimpers.

“No one but me gets to hear you like this tonight.”

“Yes, Garrus.”

The sound of his real name pleaded so desperately shot straight to his core, immediately imploding. He pressed his brow to hers and circled his fingers on her clit, making her kiss him again to moan in response.

“Garrus–General. General, please. I–”

“I’m here. I’ll always be right here,” he vowed solemnly, meaning it as truly as the Unspoken.

She sobbed, the hand on his neck sliding up to scrape dull nails across the skin under his fringe. He throbbed inside her, his own release having snuck up on him in his focus on her.

“With me?” she asked, her voice tight and desperate.

“Always.”

And with a kiss they fell over the edge together.

It was several minutes later that Garrus opened his eyes to a world made entirely of red hair. The two of them had simply slipped sideways on the bed, still intertwined with each other. Shepard before him was breathing steadily, slowly.

He pressed a kiss to the back of her head. “You alright?”

She nodded. “I need a quick break though,” she said, her words slurring slightly.

“Me too.” He pulled away enough to turn her onto her back and stretched out next to her. For a few minutes, he just admired her face, fingers combing through her hair till it laid flat on the bed.

“How did you make it so much longer?” he asked quietly.

She reached up into her hair and something snapped, then a section of the long hair came out.

“That’s… not yours?” he asked, more than a little bewildered.

“Well, it’s mine in that I own it. But I didn’t grow this hair, no.” She repeated the process a few more times, removing all the pieces from her scalp till just her usual shoulder length hair remained.

“That’s… disturbing.”

“I wanted to be authentic,” she replied with a shrug. “You liked it till you knew.”

He grunted, not wanting to agree, and reached for his long-abandoned bottle. “Speaking of authentic, how did you find actual Aephusian Ale in the middle of a war?”

She turned to her stomach and grinned. “You can find many things when you’re as powerful a queen as I am.”

He laughed and took a sip, savoring the unique flavors of the brew. “Do you want your mead? It’s back on the desk.”

“Yeah, I’ll get it.” She rolled away and hopped up the stairs to her office. He couldn’t help but admire how her curves were highlighted in the low glow from the fishtank and the one candle they’d dared on the coffee table. A slow smile spread across her face when she noticed him staring on her return.

“See something you like?” she purred, kneeling down next to him.

He wrapped an arm around her waist. “I see many things I like.”

She chuckled and sipped her drink, a hand idly stroking along his fringe. A turian could die happy like this, he thought, drinking his ale.

“Anything I can do different?” she asked after a minute. “Should the Queen be more aloof?”

He looked up at her and shook his head. “You’re perfect.”

Her slow smile returned. “You make a damn fine General, Vakarian.”

He chuckled. “Anything for my Queen.” Her smile changed to something more coy, nearly shy. Then he realized– “You like being my Queen, don’t you?”

A pink tint spread across the tops of her cheeks as she refused to look at him, taking another long sip instead. He set his ale down on the floor and sat up to nuzzle a kiss to her neck.

“It’s not so strange, is it?” She let him take her cup away as she continued speaking. “To like having the man you love promise devotion and loyalty… even if it’s just a story?”

He held her hands in his and pressed his forehead to hers, subvocals humming the Unspoken once more. “It’s not all a story,” he whispered. Her eyes opened to meet his. “You know that already, right?”

“Yes. I do.”

“Good.” Not looking away, he pushed her back on the bed and laid down at her side. They found the fit between themselves, arms wrapped around each other. He rested his brow against hers again, eyes shut. “I swear to guard my Commander from harm… and, with either my life or my death, ensure the success of her mission,” he promised in a low voice.

“I love you too,” she whispered back.

When he opened his eyes, they were back in the tent. Jasmine and tempered steel drifted on the soft desert wind. But it was Shepard–his Shepard–who laid in the bed with him. All the tragedies and horrors of their real lives left behind, even if only for a few minutes. Her warm regard shone out through her eyes, not held back but freely offered.

They pulled closer still. Her arms slipped up around his neck, and he lifted her leg over his waist. He kissed her like that for a long while, brushing mandibles over her cheeks to match her movements best he could. No words spoken, but none needed. Just the tempo of her breath told him everything he needed to know.

Slowly yet steadily, they came together. He held her eyes as long as he could, watching every slight expression in her eyes. They were so different, the two of them. And yet he never felt more understood, more Known, than he did when he was with her. She pressed his brow to hers, mouth moving with unspoken words that he felt deeper than his bones. They were unhurried, confident in their destination yet nearly satisfied to never arrive. Following the other in a dance they knew and loved so well at this point. A dance that Garrus quietly hoped would continue for the rest of their long, long lives till they could be buried in each other’s gaze.

Shepard pulled closer still at the end, tucking her face against his neck and tensing before a long shudder ran through her core. A quiet echo of response answered from his center, filling any remaining air between them with a gentle warmth.

They were both quiet for several minutes, still wrapped completely around the other. If he had just a touch less self-control, Garrus might have been content to drift off to sleep just like that. But the evening, while thoroughly enjoyable, had made a bit of a mess.

“We should clean up,” he said quietly, without moving.

“Yes,” came the eventual reply from the area below his chin.

“...We have to move to do that.”

“You move. I’m too fucked to move.”

That made him chuckle and he pulled away, rolling up to standing next to the bed. Shepard groaned and made a weak attempt to pull him back, hand flopping against the bed.

“Well if you can’t walk, let me carry you then, your magnificence, to the royal baths.”

She laughed as he lifted her from the bed and whisked her off to the bathroom. They both grunted as the bright light flipped on when they entered. But the steaming water from the shower soon soothed any sting.

Shepard eventually got down, but still stayed within his arms, very content to let him wash her hair and rub sore muscles. He felt much the same as she returned the favor, cleaning him with a dedicated care that quieted his mind.

“Is there anything like this?” she mused as she shut the water off.

Garrus reached for a towel. “Hm?”

“In the book. Do the General and Queen do anything like this?”

“Oh.” He wrapped the towel around her shoulders as he thought. “There is a scene in a hot spring that’s pretty famous.”

She smiled and wrung out her hair. “Mm. I like hot springs.”

“Me too.”

They fell into the quiet routine of sleep, the late hour finally catching up to both of them. Shepard didn’t speak again till she eased into the bed next to him, under freshly changed sheets.

“So what happens?” she asked as he looped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer. “In the book, how does it end?”

He stared at her for a long moment and then answered honestly, grimly. “She sacrifices herself for the good of her people. And though he carries on, he never loves another. How could he?”

Her warm expression dimmed. “That’s… disappointing.”

“That’s turian romance.”

She shook her head and adjusted her fit in his arms, tucking an ankle into his spur. “Let’s change it. She… goes to sacrifice herself for the good of the people. But… he gets there in the nick of time, like always. And together… they win. Go on to have many more adventures and found the new turian empire.”

He smiled and threaded a hand into her hair, eyes drifting shut. “Much better.”

taglist: @me-fish ; @seleenermparis-blog ; @kelenloth ; @ferociousqueak

[ineloqueent]

the weight of the world

Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader

gif credit bc i do not have that kind of talent (x)

synopsis: Roger’s got the weight of the world on his shoulders. Or maybe it’s just the drumming.

word count: 1.8k

a/n: ‘self-control’ is not in my vocabulary, and so this is based off of all those times roger has done that thing where he pushes his hand under his shirt and rubs his shoulder because poor bby drums too much okay bye

⭒

Working in catering certainly had its benefits.

For one, it meant that you got to see the members of a very well-known band on a daily basis, greeting them as casually as friends. 

For another thing, it meant that Roger Taylor frequently professed his undying love for you. 

Well, okay, so maybe that wasn’t exactly how he put it, but that was what it sounded like. 

Studio sessions that spanned both days and nights commanded the sort of dedication and attention of the musicians which meant that they frequently forewent the basics of life in order to get something done. For instance, once, when they hadn’t finished until three o’clock in the morning, they had left the studio yawning and slumping, John muttering something about having entirely missed both lunch and dinner. But you’d been there to hand out jam sandwiches, even when every other tech and crew member had gone home for the night. Because in a way, you felt it your duty to take care of the four boys. They really were like teenagers— up at all hours, doing whatever the hell they wanted, forgetting to eat when they weren’t reminded. 

Roger was the worst of all, leaving the studio last and stopping on the kerbside to stare aimlessly into the distance, a jacket slung over one arm as a hand rubbed his other shoulder. He always looked dazed when he left, overly exhausted, from the hunch of his gait to the way his head dropped slightly to his chest when he didn’t pay heed to hold it upright. 

He would stand there and breathe in the crisp night air, and from a distance, you would stand and wait for him to be on his way before you went on yours, because you didn’t entirely trust him to not wander off in the wrong direction, lost in his drowsy haze. 

From afar, you would see him off, a guardian angel standing watch in the shadows for the flaxen-haired musician who would sigh and let the silence carry away his woe. 

And in the morning, when he turned up with a crooked grin and dark sunglasses, and accepted the plate of breakfast you offered to him, you smiled back and pretended you knew nothing of how the world weighed on his shoulders. 

You would enter the studio with the announcement of lunch, and Queen would slowly gather themselves together and file out the door and into the daylight. 

Roger would ruffle your hair and call you his favourite crew member as he passed you, or settle for a wink and a remark about how nice it was to see his best girl. 

When you knocked to bring the intrusion of coffee, Roger would leap up. 

“Sweetheart, you’re a lifesaver!”

You tutted, “It’s just coffee, Roger.”

You handed Freddie and Brian their black coffees, and John his with one sugar, and finally Roger his. 

“Oh, but you remembered my one-and-three-sevenths.” He canted his head to one side and pouted softly, in a manner which more resembled a child than a 36-year-old man. “Thank you.”

You shrugged, repeated yourself. “It’s just coffee.”

Roger only shook his head. 

One incident that stood out to you in particular was the recording of ‘One Vision’, in which Roger and Freddie argued back and forth concerning a certain line and the drum fill to go with it, losing each other repeatedly in the translation from word to rhythm, and vice versa. 

The day had been spent in laughter, but now that night was settling in, the four of them were growing tired and short-tempered. And stressed. 

Roger was stressed, you could tell. 

He was bouncing up and down in his chair, tapping his foot against the pedal of the kick drum even when it wasn’t necessary, and subsequently being scolded by Freddie when he ruined a take because of it. 

Between lapses of thought, he rubbed at his eyes, and kept his sunglasses on even then, slouching and batting away a yawn like a tired kitten helplessly batting at string. 

His favourite habit, it seemed, was to slip his hand into the folds of his shirt to rub at his shoulder, rolling his neck as his fingers found his pulse. Whether he did it purposely or absently, you weren’t sure, but the creases between his eyes made you want to walk over to him and take his hands and demand he leave to get some rest. 

You finally did, on an evening when the others had gone out for a beer but Roger had insisted on staying late in order to finish something he claimed he just couldn’t get down. 

He didn’t notice you leaning against the doorframe with folded arms, until his drumming gave way to a sigh and his usual habit and you wandered over. 

“Your shoulders hurt, don’t they?”

He startled at the sound of your voice, but his easy demeanour returned when he realised your presence. 

He flashed you a smile as brief as the face of a coin catching light, and nodded. 

Then he yawned, sleepily fluttering his eyelashes. “Sorry,” he said. “Awfully tired and not even close to done.”

You glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. “It’s past midnight,” you told him gently. 

“And..?”

“Roger,” you said. “You’ve got to take care of yourself. You can’t just be up at all hours, going without food and rest, because then you’ll be running on empty when it really matters.”

He sighed again, and you eyed him pitifully. 

“And how do I do that?” he asked you then, in a curiously honest manner, peering at you over the drum kit with that tilted head and those big, blue eyes. 

“Let me help,” you murmured. At his nod, you slipped between the wall and the drums to join him behind the fortress of instruments. 

He swivelled on his stool to face you, but you shook your head and walked around behind him. 

Slowly, you pulled his hand away from his chest, laying his fingers on his knee instead. Then you placed your hands on his shoulders and began to apply a gentle pressure.

He hissed through his teeth at the contact, muscles tensing. But when you made so as to pull back, he stopped you, turning his head till the pale stubble of his jaw brushed your hand. 

“Don’t stop,” he said quietly, and his exhale fanned across your skin. 

A tingle skittered along your arms, your own shoulders growing tense as the knots you intended to ease from Roger’s. 

You’d never touched him before, save for a handshake upon initial introduction, where you’d threaded your fingers with his and stared at him a little too deeply for a little too long, when the heat of his skin had briefly become yours.

But now he relaxed beneath your hands as you pushed the heels of your palms into his upper back, working the strain from his muscles with a steady rhythm. It came to the point where he was leaning against you, his back pressed to your torso and thighs as you rubbed his shoulders, and a soft groan escaped his lips. 

“Alright, Rog?” you asked. 

“Mmm,” he murmured. “Your hands are cold.”

“Sorry.”

“No, no.. It's nice,” he said. “You’re nice.” He sat up and turned around, and your hands slipped from his shoulders, reluctantly. He looked up at you. “Why are you so nice to me, Y/N?”

You drew a breath to speak, but then closed your mouth promptly because you did not know what to say. 

His eyes were wide, even behind his sunglasses, and you longed to slip them from his nose so that you might stare into that lovely abyss of blue. 

You glanced down. 

Why were you nice to him? 

Because he knew when a joke would lighten the mood of the room, or when a simple smile was better suited to the situation. Because he was stupidly stubborn and always upheld his morals, even when it lost him no end to points in popularity. Because he knew what to say, and when to say nothing at all. Because his eyes lit up when someone remembered how he liked his coffee; he was touched by the intimacy of how they had memorised a piece of his soul. And memorised a piece of his soul you had, for shards of it came to you when your thoughts wandered or when your head grew empty and your heart more so, plagued by the loneliness inherent to your being. Because he worked harder than anyone you’d ever met before, and though he claimed to have no modesty whatsoever, his humility was as much a part of his being as loneliness was of yours.

“Because you deserve to have people be nice to you.”

He laughed, “But that’s not your job, love. Your job is catering and generally putting up with us and our silliness, but no one said you had to be nice.”

You smiled slowly. “Well, I’ll stop being nice, then.”

Your words were met with silence, and you raised your eyes. 

Roger was gazing up at you.

“I like you being nice to me.” 

His voice had suddenly a gentle husky quality to it, a roughened edge to its highness, and at his unblinking stare, your breath hitched in your throat and a flush of heat spread through you.

Then he dragged you down to him and his lips caught on yours, sending a spark of flame to your skin, the feel of a match struck between your mouths. You were vaguely aware of the gentle pressure of his fingers at your waist, but for all else you were lost, because Roger smelt of soap and rain and ink and earth, and tasted of spun sugar and memories of summertime. 

His kiss was firm, but he yielded to you when you pulled him up to stand, emitting only a faint whine when your lips briefly eluded his. He needn’t have worried; you curled your arms around his neck and nudged him closer, and he held you against him like a tide pulling you out to sea, though you felt more sound in his arms than you ever would have atop the rolling waves. 

His touch was dizzying, and you swayed when he drew back, pressing his soft, wetted lips together as his eyes flicked over you.

“Sorry,” he murmured dazedly, his hands falling away from you. “I— don’t know what came over me—”

You tugged on the open collar of his shirt, bringing him to you so that your noses brushed and your words fluttered across his lips. “It was good, Rog.”

He inhaled sharply, and his breath set your senses alight, hyper-tuned to his movements.

“I like you too,” you whispered, curling your fingers into the baby hairs at the base of his neck.

He leaned into your touch with a contented hum, “That’s the best news I’ve heard all year.”

You smiled against his pretty lips when he kissed you again, intoxicating and bruising, yet comforting and sure. 

Sure, because never in your life had you been surer of anything than the sweetness of his mouth on yours. 

[atla-hcs-and-bakoda]

Bato’s Backstory

ok so this is gonna be long, buckle up. This is my personal interpretation of bato’s backstory, it likely makes no canonical or reasonable sense, but canon does not exist and i make the rules. this is purely self-indulgent crack-treated-seriously. This is what all the other hcs, unless stated otherwise, will be set in.

Note about Bato: in my interpretation of him, he has teal/cyan eyes and darker brown hair than in the show, his skin tone has not changed.

(unfortunately this is not a zukka au, just a bakoda one. bato’s backstory is kind of an au in my mind, so when i do ship zukka, its not in this au)

(the bold letters at the beginning of the paragraphs are for accessibility)

‘Present’ (only a few months after zuko’s coronation) ages: Hakoda & Bato - 41 Kya - 42 Iroh - 65 Ozai - 47

under the cut because oh boy this is long, sorry asdfghfd

So, our story begins in the fire nation, about 59 AG, Iroh is the 25 year old crown prince, and recently had a child with his wife, Minami, on the coldest day of winter. They named him Shui, and they, quite frankly, spoilt him with their love. Minami stayed in the castle while Iroh was at war, and always sang to Shui while putting his hair up or putting him to bed.

One day, when Shui was 9, Azulon decided to take his family to Ember Islands on vacation, like the royal family has been doing for generations. However, there was a bad storm, and the ship got thrown near the south. Little Shui followed Iroh onto the deck, and fell overboard when a big wave hit the other side of the boat, rocking it and making him fall.

The royal family and crew tried to save him, but the waves dragged him under, and once the storm cleared, he was presumed dead. Iroh and Minami mourned the loss of their first son, who died so young that he hardly got to live life at all. Ozai mourned to a minor extent, as he was 15 at the time and wasn’t as bad as he is in the present, but not for as long as Shui’s parents, or grandfather, did.

Meanwhile, in the southern water tribe, little 9 year old Hakoda was wandering down at the seaside with his father when he came across a young boy unconscious in the snow, the cold water nearly freezing him to death. His father hurried him back to the tribe with the young boy’s body. For days, Hakoda sat beside the bed, rarely moving from the spot, keeping watch on the mystery boy. And eventually, he woke up.

Hakoda introduced himself once the boy was fully awake, but when asked his name, the boy said “i...i don’t remember...” So, instead, Hakoda decided to pick a name for him; Bato. The boy agreed to the name, and after a week, got adopted by one of the tribesmen, a close friend of Hakoda’s father. After that, the two children were an unstoppable duo, they did many successful pranks on everyone, including Hakoda’s mother, Kanna.

However, every once in a while, Bato would blurt out something without thinking, and when questioned, wouldn’t be able to remember it at all. For instance, Bato and Hakoda were once watching the stars late at night, when Bato pointed at a constellation and called it Druk. Hakoda laughed, but Bato insisted that was its name. Hakoda asked where Bato learned that, since thats not what their tribe calls it, and Bato had no recollection of learning it.

(This continued well into teenagehood, when Bato realised at the ripe old age of 14 that he was, in fact, in love with his best friend. He didn’t come out for a long time, in fear of his tribe’s reaction. Deep down he knew they’d accept him with open arms, but his anxiety said otherwise.)

At 12, there was a fire nation raid while Bato was at the seaside, and he recognised both the ship and flag instantly despite not being told prior about the Southern Raiders. He ran to tell the chief, and thanks to his quick reaction, saved the tribe to a degree. Many waterbenders still died, however.

At 15, Bato and Hakoda went ice-dodging with their respective fathers- and eachother. Hakoda recieved the mark of the wise, and Bato recieved the mark of the brave.

One night at 15, they were cuddling in Hakoda’s bed (because thats what best friends do, of course. its cold, no other reason, totally not) when Hakoda noticed Bato’s eye color; Teal. not the regular water tribe blue, not a dark blue, or even a light blue, but pure Teal. Although hakoda would still argue to this day that bato’s eyes are cyan. When questioned about his eye color, Bato shrugged and brushed it off as an uncommon trait. But Hakoda realised nobody else in the tribe had cyan eyes, just blue.

Then, at 16, the boys got into a bad avalanche that resulted in Hakoda getting knocked out. Bato woke up hours later, and pulled his best friend out of the snow. He realised Hakoda wasnt breathing, and started to cry, taking his gloves off to cling to Hakoda and try feel the warmth of his pulse, to no avail. He closed his eyes and cried, when his hands lit on fire. When he realised what he just did, he put the flame out and made a plan, carrying Hakoda to the dog sled quite a bit from the avalanche, and set them on course for the tribe while he carefully lit his hands back on fire after a few attempts, and kept Hakoda warm. 

Just before they got to the tribe, Hakoda started breathing again, shallowly, and his father quickly took both of them to the healer when they arrived back. This time, it was Bato who sat beside the bed and waited for Hakoda to wake up, refusing to eat much until his friend woke up.

He never told anyone about his bending.

A few months later, Hakoda met and started dating Kya, and Bato’s heart broke. he was happy for hakoda, he really was, but deep down it still hurt him to see him with someone else.

At 20, Hakoda’s father went off to war.  At 22, Hakoda became Chief, and Bato became the second-in-command.

At 23, Hakoda proposed to Kya after like 20 failed attempts at carving a betrothal necklace. Bato’s heart broke a tiny bit more, but he ignored it to be happy for his friend. Bato had to sleep alone for the first time since he joined the southern water tribe, he didn’t sleep much when alone.

2 years later, at 25, Sokka was born, and Bato babysat him a lot when Hakoda and Kya were busy. Bato admittedly vented to baby sokka quite a bit, and showed him very minor firebending tricks he practiced during sleepless nights, which was most nights.

At 26, Katara was born, and Bato now babysat two little children, both of which he adored with all his heart. He himself is infertile, so Katara and Sokka were the closest thing he had to his own children.

Things went mostly peacefully for years, until 34, when Kya got killed. After the raid, Hakoda wouldnt eat for days at a time, completely depressed and exhausted. Bato would offer him small plates of food and sit with him, letting him vent or cry or whatever Hakoda needed to do to get the stress and pain out. He also looked after Sokka and Katara while Hakoda couldn’t, and usually slept next to Hakoda’s bed, watching over the chief, along with his kids, as both children were terrified to sleep by themselves, Hakoda was scared of losing them, and Bato couldn’t bare the thought of not keeping them safe.

After years of recovering, Hakoda eventually had to head out to war with the men of the tribe, Bato included. Bato’s heart broke watching Sokka beg to come with them, but he knew it was for the best.

3 months after leaving, Bato came out to Hakoda in the Chieftan’s private room in the boat, and Hakoda accepted him with open arms, and promised to not tell anyone until Bato was ready. Bato fell a lot more in love.

At 5 months, he started very carefully dropping hints to Hakoda that he likes him, slightly-too-friendly-to-be-platonic compliments, cuddling him in hakoda’s room “because its cold” (they were nowhere near cold climates), and other vaugely homoerotic stuff like that. All of it went over Hakoda’s head.

(At 6 months he straight up told Hakoda at night on the deck “Your my stars, Hakoda. Whenever i’m lost, you always bring me home.”, and Hakoda responded “Thanks Bato, I’m happy your my friend too.”, Bato stayed awake all night in utter disbelief. He still teases Hakoda about it.)

1 year after leaving, Bato realised he might not be as much of a guy as he thought he was. He silently decided to put that train of thoughts on hold until the war was over. (In his heart he knew the war would never be over until the fire nation won. especially with sozin’s comet only a year away and- he doesnt remember what sozin’s comet is.)

When his arm got burned, he burned the soldier right back with his good arm out of sight of everyone else, and managed to shove them overboard before the pain hit him. He’s always had a high pain tolerance.  After the fight ended, Hakoda carried Bato to the abbey, and they had a tearful goodbye, where Bato quietly confessed his love as Hakoda walked out the room. Hakoda thought about it until he saw Bato again.

When they reunited, Hakoda confessed his love back to Bato, and they kissed right in the open, it took a lot of self control for the other tribesmen to not cheer, they had known for literally forever, the only person in the tribe who didnt know bato was in love with hakoda was hakoda.

Somehow, it took until the war was over for Sokka and Katara to find out they had a step-dad. They already considered Bato to be their second dad, so not much exactly changed.

The day of Zuko’s coronation, Bato got talking with Iroh, and when the topic came to children, Iroh explained how both his sons were dead, one dying at 9 from a storm, and the other dying at 20 from war. When Iroh says his youngest (eldest?) son’s name, Shui, Bato remembers the storm, and Iroh notices Bato’s rare cyan eyes.

They have a nice reunion, although Bato has to sit down for a while to process all this and figure out his family tree. He decides not to tell Hakoda yet, but he does spend a while walking through the palace with Iroh and remembering parts of his early childhood. He cant bring himself to go into the room of firelord portraits.

A month after zuko’s coronation, he sits Hakoda down and explains that he’s a bender, and he’s apparently fire nation royalty. Hakoda gets temporarily mad, but eventually calms down and hugs Bato when his friend told him that his firebending saved both himself and hakoda, and that he would never be like his forefathers or uncle. Hakoda takes a while to fully accept it, but eventually warms up (heh) to the concept, and continues to use Bato as a personal space heater.

Two months after zuko’s coronation, he finally decides to tackle the “i’m not as much as a guy as i thought” issue, and he decides to go to Iroh and Toph for advice over tea, where Iroh suggests some wise stuff, but Toph simply explains what non-binary is, and suggests Bato may be Demiboy. (Although Bato prefers to call himself Demiguy, he doesnt like being called a boy) The Gender Crisis continues for about another week, and takes another half a month for him to come out to Hakoda. Bato was somewhat internally afraid he wouldnt be counted as one of the men, but Hakoda was overwhelmingly supportive, and admitted that he knew Bato wasn’t exactly cis, he just never knew the words to use.

Bato spends a while at the palace after the coronation to get his bearings on being half fire nation and a prince, he learns purple is a very good color on him.(Hakoda later jokes that it was foreshadowing for Bato realising he was enby, as he wasnt blue or red)

He bonds quite a bit with Zuko, Iroh, and Toph during his stay, but eventually goes back to the southern water tribe, the place he truly considers home. Although, he does go and visit the fire nation every once in a while. He even goes to Ember Islands and has a vacation day with both of his families.

After about two years, He finally makes a betrothal necklace for Hakoda, with the symbol of the water tribe on it and flames coming up from the waves, both of them totally cry happy tears when he proposes privately under the light of the aurora.

[athenakassandra]

The Other Side of the Fence

I can almost feel it. It’s there. I can feel my fingertips are brushing against what I’ve been missing all these years. If I was in a race, the line’s right in front of me. I knew this is it. After all this time, it’s finally here for taking.

All I gotta do now is cross it.

But... how? It seems so simple, right? Cross it. Just finish and claim the prize. Isn’t that how it’s done? JUST DO IT.

I wish it was that simple. I forgot, after eight long years, that there’s a fence. I stare at it like I did so many years ago, and somehow it looks the same. It has aged a good deal, and it almost looks vulnerable now. But as I’ve proven all those years, it’s deceptively impenetrable.

The hardest part about the fence is that it has a lot of things that I want on the inside, things that I dream about on a regular basis. Things I’d give up a lifetime to be a part of. When mom (not my mom) talks about these i feel the pain of missing out of them. What’s most painful and cruel is that I can see everything from where I stand, and watch other people enjoy the things i want, but will never have.

I see a kid running full speed towards me as if seeing something he has seen for the first time. I bet he’s curious as he comes over just a few steps from the fence. He stopped dead in his tracks and just stares at it like it’s a blank wall. That’s how the fence works, I see everything from the outside, but they will never see me. I recognize the kid. It’s my boy, and I felt the tears start falling. Tears of joy? Maybe. My son makes me happy even by just the simplest of things, but it made me sad and frustrated that I loved him since the day he was born and yet he has doesnt and perhaps never will meet me. He’s such an angel, and I remember holding his hand once when he was two years old, and I remember it like I just let go of it. It hurt that he was someone else’s, but eventually I realized it was through him I truly learned -- and understood -- the word sacrifice. I felt, for the briefest of instances, like I was a part of something bigger. He has grown now, and he looked great. I know he’s gonna grow up well and do well. He’s gonna be seven this year, and I wonder what to give him on his birthday. A new toy? His mother tells me the boy likes to play a lot. Perhaps a new iPad. Or Maybe a real father? I don’t know. That’s up to mom. We stare at each other, him with a piercing look and me trying not to scare him. I know he doesnt see me, but I still stare back in regret and longing, when I hear a commanding voice from afar, and we both look at where it’s coming from. It was my son’s grandma.

Mama, as she’s fondly called, comes over and carries my boy away. As badass as she looks, she owns what’s got to be one of the softest hearts, as I’m told. I found it hard to believe at first, as when I met her like twice before I just remember being scared shitless by just meeting her gaze. Like I mentioned earlier she has a commanding voice, and my son walks toward her, giving the fence one final glance as if he saw someone or something there. I hear his aunt call him out as well, offering something I couldn’t see from this distance. Aunt’s also gonna be a mother soon. She looks like 98% mom, and I used to think of all the high fives we’re gonna have and all the high pitched laughs because of all the inside jokes about mom that we’re gonna share. She’s had a difficult life, and I’d like to think that she having a child soon is one of the steps toward the right direction. I wish this family all my best, even if they have no clue who I am and I doubt they’ll ever know me. I sigh and take back a deep breath, wishing this wasnt the case.

The other day mom told me a couple stories while we were driving home. The way she talked made me feel like she’s somewhat venting, though I didnt really mind. I want her to do that. I want her to tell me everything. I want to help her when she’s feeling down, console her when she’s hurt, and laugh with her when she’s happy. I realized it’s also one of the things the fence keeps me from having. The everyday life stories, from the simplest to the most outrageous, is one of the things I want to share with mom. It’s basically the life together, the chaos, and it just hurts not being there when she needs someone to hold her. Life just aint fair.

It felt so good to daydream. It’s a beautiful night, and though the silence doesn’t give off the best of vibes I’m trying to have when I write, it’s good enough to just summon my thoughts. The bad thing, however, about daydreaming is that it feels so real at one point and then with a blink of an eye, it’s gone. It’s just gone, and all I can see is pitch black, I feel the emptiness that has devoured all the things joyful I can ever think of, and I’m alone again. Then, in the middle of all this, I see mom. I see her talking to our son and wiping the sweat off his forehead down to his face. This sets my mind off again, reminiscing how I loved and lost the love of my life.

Mom and I were never the convenient love story. We’re one of the against-all-odds, spontaneous, and heart-wrenching ones. It was never easy for us, which was clear from the start, and we had to fight for what we have. I’d like to think that it made us indestructible, and the joy and passion we shared for one another remains unmatched, though historically one thing or two always ends up breaking us apart. I dont know what it is, but before she left for the last time, I remember us being able to take a piece of each other. During cold days and hard times I hold onto that piece to give me hope. I always clutch at it whenever I feel insecure, unloved, and rejected. It somehow makes me feel her heart and her love, though it’s ironic because I got it when she left, but undeniably, it works. She’s also the one person I know I can talk to when nobody else will. She’s the only one who can calm me when my stupid temper just decides to go off. Heck she even made me want that homeless-looking Post Malone. I loved her for it. I still do. She makes my heart smile and full in a way nobody else can, like nothing else matters in the world but us. I’m 29 and I still feel butterflies in my stomach when I kiss her hand. We still make out like we used to in our early 20′s, and when our lips touch, I can feel all the love that I missed all these years. The stars are back, and I just don’t want to let go.

But, I have to. I still have to go back to my world, and she has to hers. It’s what the fence divides, and unlike eight years ago I have a ticking time bomb that’s not gonna stop. It’s strapped to the fence, and if we destroy the fence the bomb goes off as well. It’s either we hit two birds in one stone by eliminating both the bomb and the fence, or we die and lose our souls again. I look at mom’s eyes and i’d like to believe it’s somewhat different now, that she’s gonna have something to do about whatever the outcome’s gonna be. It gives me hope, and like I said, I can almost feel it. I think we’re closer this time. Better.

And then again, the fence is deceptively strong. We can always go around it and do whatever we want, but the fence will just remind us that we will be separated at the end of the day. I dont want to do that anymore if it was up to me. I just want to go home to my wife and son and live a simple life.

I love you, mom, I love you so much. You know this, and you also know there’s nothing I wouldnt give. It’s up to you now, but please dont go to a place where I cant follow. Even if we fail again, my heart and the best parts of me will always belong to you. Hopefully I see and touch your face today.

I’ll just be where I can be found a lot this past couple of weeks --- right outside the fence, waiting for you.

[curiosity-killed]

cost of survival

:D sometimes it’s fun to make your babies Sad™

word count: 1818

warnings: lot of talk about death, survivor’s guilt

Valyn comes to see him two days after he returns from his parents’ home. Catterik and Jemma are out, and Sirion is alone in the quiet office, still prohibited from working in the yard by both Fran and Jemma. In truth, he’s put up little protest against their order. His heartbeat has a new companion now, ever since they found him. Doubt trickles cold like water down the inside of his ribcage, leaves him second-guessing every judgment. He’s never felt so unsure of himself and doesn’t trust himself to give orders right now. When Valyn steps through the door, Sirion is on his feet, already bending in a painful bow. He’s healing but not quite recovered. “Please, Captain, at ease,” Valyn says as he approaches.

Sirion hesitates before heeding the placating gesture of Valyn’s hand. He sinks slowly into his seat while Valyn takes the one across the desk. He’s never spoken personally with Valyn before, has only witnessed his interactions and never been invited to engage himself. Valyn offers a small smile, almost rueful. “I have never had Caleb’s skill in befriending our soldiers,” he explains, “but now that his crown has fallen to me, I should like to follow his lead as much as I can.” As much as his words and tone are easy, they set Sirion into further discomfort. A social call is the last thing he wants right now. Sirion has only ever known one prince, and the similarities Valyn shares with Callebero make him only more cognizant of how different they are and how easily he could misstep. He has never been part of – nor desired to be – the court’s politics. Others have noted his diplomacy, but it has ever been a tactic of self-preservation, of knowing how to keep himself out of trouble. He can’t conjure cutting replies like Jisel or lean on the weight of his imperium like Callebero. “I am glad to see you recovering,” Valyn offers. “It would be a sore day indeed for Arradine to lose their captain.” “Thank you, Your Eminence,” Sirion signs. Then, grudgingly, he adds, “The Royal Physician and her staff are most diligent.” There’s a tightening to Valyn’s lips at the mention of Fran, but it’s gone so quickly Sirion’s hardly sure it was there at all. “Please, there’s no need for formalities,” Valyn says instead. “You and Caleb were close, were you not?” “I was honored to consider him a friend,” Sirion answers carefully. He can still remember the brightness of Callebero’s grin, the warmth of his dark eyes, the strength of his calloused hands. They were friends even when they did not know what they wanted to be, even when they wanted what they could not have. He doesn’t know how much Valyn knows – he and Callebero ever were close – but he doubts he knows this. Callebero could be infuriatingly close-lipped, and he was loath to show much vulnerability even among his friends. “I wish the same for us,” Valyn says. “As you will,” he concedes with a respectful nod. Watching him, Valyn cants his head to the side as if in thoughtfulness. There’s a softness in his gaze, and when he speaks, his voice is gentler than it was before. “I was told you were with him at the end,” he says. Sirion nods and tries not to let anything else bleed through his expression. “Forgive me, I know it is not a painless request, but I would care to know how it happened,” Valyn says. “Caleb was the closest to a brother I ever had, and to know how he died would offer some – well, resolution, I supposed.” Sirion swallows, and his hands lie still. Those last moments are a blur. His mind had been full of calculations on their odds as well as his own life that he could not now recall if pressed to write them down. He remembered the corpses, remember Irian’s face hewn apart and staring bloodied up at him. He remembers looking for Callebero and finding one arm shattered and held tight to his chest and blood running down his face from where he’d let someone in too close. He remembers the canyon’s cool air, the weight of Callebero’s body against his before free fall took them. “He fought bravely,” Sirion signs, stiff. “He was among the last of us still standing, but he did not fall to our attackers’ blades.” Valyn makes a noise in the back of his throat, questioning and prompting Sirion to continue. “I pushed him into the river,” SIrions says, admits, confesses. “I thought there was a chance he could survive and be found.” The confession feels like a lash taken to the back of his ribs, flaying him open. “I see.” Sirion lifts his gaze at the sound of Valyn’s too-neutral tone. The softness has gone from his eyes, and with it, some resemblance to Callebero. He sits in the chair as if his presence makes it a throne, and there is nothing playful in his cold eyes. “Well, it worked out for you,” he says. In his eyes, there is no forgiveness but condemnation. Sirion’s own guilt stares him down, unwavering. “Tell me, why was it the youngest and least experienced of the imperial captains who rode with the prince?” Valyn asks. “The vanguard is formed from the cavalry,” Sirion answers, uneasy. “They fall under my dominion.”  Now, with Valyn pressing at all his own doubts, Sirion feels half-blind. At the time, he’d thought of asking Jemma to join the vanguard, but the armies couldn’t be left without a commander. He’d been selfish, wanting to keep those few weeks with Callebero for himself. He’d brushed it off as only nerves, the kind that took facing to beat. He’d been sure it would be fine, almost pleasant. A chance for both of them to relax without the weight of watching eyes. With victory and the distance from court, he’d almost hoped that some part of Callebero that had been closed to him since Timarin’s death would be returned. Now, Valyn rises with a cool, impassive look. Shoulders squared, he looms over Sirion with his chin lifted just-so. “The armies are being temporarily suspended,” he says. “To give you time to heal and to ensure a smooth transition.” Even if he’d played at kindness, Sirion would recognize the sentence for exacty what it was. The bright-burning, history-scoring arc of his early career is to be matched with an equally sudden fall to ignominy. “I understand,” he signs, rote. It’s hours later when he finds Jisel, more by accident than intent. Before, they’d inevitably wind up in Callebero’s chambers most evenings. Nominally, Sirion was there as a guard, but guards weren’t often encouraged to recline on the prince’s chaise, to get tangled in their debates. Another instance of selfishness overriding his duty, in hindsight. Now, they’ve migrated to a quiet nook in the library, rarely visited. From her expression, Jisel is nearly as surprised as Sirion to see another person there. The table’s full of books and papers, though Sirion doesn’t bother looking to determine their content. “Oh, Sirion,” Jisel greets. She shakes her head. “Sorry, please join me.” He’d been looking for quiet, but now that he’s here, solitude doesn’t seem so appealing. He takes a seat where she’s cleared space at her right side. “Valyn visited me,” he says before he thinks. Jisel stills, only her gaze lifting from his hands to his face. Her expression is set in a familiar look of determination. “Sirion, whatever he said, this is not your fault,” she says. “He’s doing this to all of us. Hayalen’s being forced to step down as Royal Protector, my imperium as praesidium is suspended – he’s targeted everyone close to Caleb except Catterik.” “You think Catterik has allied with him?” Sirion asks, temporarily side-tracked. Pursing her lips, Jisel frowns and looks away. She gives a little shake of her head before turning back to him. “I think Catterik plays a game that no one but his sister could hope to understand, and I think Valyn is banking on that superseding personal loyalty,” she says. “Valyn is cauterizing the wound he made. Discrediting each of us, taking our power – it puts us out of his way, gives us more immediate things to worry about than causing him trouble.” She’s right – at least about Valyn’s strategy. Sirion swallows, hands curling into loose fists. He needs to say it, needs to utter the words out loud so that he isn’t hiding this from her. She deserves to know. “Jisel, I killed him,” he signs. “I am the reason Caleb is dead.” There’s no pity in her expression, thankfully, but neither is there horror or anger. She looks at him with only a sad kind of knowing. “Sirion,” she says, “Caleb was dead the moment he left Nafyr. This attack was planned ahead, meticulously. You did what was right in the moment.” “I could have let him die in battle, as an imperator should,” Sirion insists. “Then he would at least receive a proper funeral.” Lifting her gaze to some distant point among the shelves, Jisel shakes her head slightly. Her lips are pressed together, frustration and something else in her expression. “Or his corpse would have been mutilated and disgraced by the attackers,” she replies. “There is no dishonor at going to rest in the sea. Caleb loved the ocean; now, he will find his final peace there. It was always going to end like this. One way or another.” He’s never heard her so resigned, so complacent in the face of fate or destiny. Of all them, she has ever been the one defying the plans others tried to impose upon her. He frowns, worry crawling crab-like up his spine. “What aren’t you telling me?” he asks. She laughs, just a quick exhale of amusement at his question. The corners of her lips quirk up as if in a smile, but there’s no humor in her eyes. A bleak kind of desperation glitters there instead. “They found a missive in the saddlebags of one of the attackers,” she says with that uncanny smile, and a chill spreads under Sirion’s skin. “Perfectly preserved, if you’ll believe it, and bearing my seal.” He freezes, the cold setting deep into his bones. No words come to him, no answer to the terror he now sees in her green eyes. He can count the number of times he’s seen Jisel scared on one hand. It isn’t a look made for someone like her, so bold and strong. She gives a little laugh, as if at the inanity of it, and tears well in her eyes. “I am to be tried for treason,” she says, her voice finally breaking. “I am suspected of murdering my best friend, and the only defense I have is my own word – which isn’t worth anything at all.”

[superemeralds]

fanon shadow beef

[ I’m going to ramble about headcanon shit and stuff that I see done out of character in fanon in no particular order. This might be very chaotic so bare w me. ]

Everyone else: 

Shadow uses guns on a regular basis. 

He is not repulsed by guns. 

Shooting is one of his hobbies. 

He probably owns at least one gun and keeps it at home.

 Me: 

Shadow is very uneasy around firearms and avoids using them at all costs. 

The sound of gunshots (and similar loud sounds) makes him flinch. 

(On new years he retreats into his cabin in the woods so e doesn’t have to hear the fireworks.)

There’s very obvious reasons for that yall.

He avoids demands to "do his job cleaner" by using guns. 

Shadow is for gun control and strongly advocates for making it illegal for private households to own and store guns.

He Hates Guns. 

He. Hates. Guns. 

The reason he joined GUN despite it being a very triggering environment is because he has the mindset that he has to endure exactly this to overcome it.

+ he has to make sure that GUN doesn't go down that path again. You all know what I mean (and we all know that they will) 

After all this time, the commander from ShTH and Shadow made up, after covering up all misunderstandings and acknowledging they were both young and heavily manipulated back then. For the short while that this commander is still in charge Shadow has great faith that GUN will take a good turn, which is what moved him to join (they probably discussed it at the dinner that the commander (canonically!) invited him to with his family.

Additionally, he wants access to their data bank to learn as much as he can about the planet and secrets that governments might have. 

He never obeys his orders without question and often breaks rules and opposes GUN, sabotaging missions and just generally doing his thing while using his status in the organization to get what he wants. 

Due to his position and the sheer fact that he is the ultimate life form (and way too valuable to not be “under GUN’s control”) the authorities can’t punish him in any way for his betrayals and kinda get used to it.

God I have So Much Beef with the wiki page for him lmao lemme just. :)

<< Shadow also has a ruthless and merciless edge in combat that all other characters in the series lack, and displays a natural "killer instinct". >>

He only intended to kill Sonic in SA2 because he was blinded by rage and he planned to destroy the entire planet anyways.

I hate when people call shadow merciless and murderous and “killer instinct”... That’s not him...

He was TRAINED to be like this but that’s not who he really is.

Of course that learned behaviour isn’t easily unlearned, even if he cant remember when and how he learned it, but he has his own morals, too, and he is very very much against senseless death. If he can prevent it, he sure as fuck will do all he can do to save a life.

In Shadow’s eyes life is precious, something extraordinary. He promised to Maria to protect it, and he, himself, thinks of it as something worth protecting. Its true that he has a lot of trouble to accept his own feelings and thoughts as important and valuable, but that is due to the way he was raised. 

(as an experiment that is not treated like it has its own will, he was constantly told to comply in experiments, but they never even bothered to tell him what this was all for or engage in deeper conversation with him; as we can see in SA2 when shadow talks to Maria about how confused he is about his purpose of existence.)

More than enough I see him frown or be disgusted or just. plain angry at nothing in particular in fanart. (or the evil bloody murder type of character... or him proudly holding guns or shit :)))))) Hm... )

There’s a difference between an angry face and a person that just doesn’t smile as neutral expression. like… there just are people who have a neutral expression but look unhappy because their mouth naturally rests in a ^ position instead of a - or a v …

<< In the original Japanese version, where Shadow omits honorifics and speaks highly of himself (if not rudely), though contrasting this, in Japanese he normally uses the "boku" pronoun when referring to himself as opposed to the more arrogant/confident "ore" pronoun (which characters such as Sonic use). >>

okay so the difference between boku and ore is that ore is VERY casual and mostly used when talking to someone you are close to, or when you're just really sure of yourself. Boku is a pronoun used mostly by young boys or when someone speaks humbly abt themselves.

And I don’t know how this confuses anyone, since Shadow did grow up on a fucking space station and that’s all he’s known, and he was probably treated like a child, even when he was grown up. Plus, Shadow might be a little arrogant and think very highly of himself (which he mostly does because all his life he was taught that he is a very special and superior life form, mind you), he still very much respects whoever else he is talking to, and he doesn’t take credit for his powers or the things that make him special. He’s the “it’s not a big deal” kind of guy. And he doesn’t mean it in a derogatory way, he means it in a way, that he doesn’t want to trouble the other person.

Making the other person believe that he has everything under control and that he’s okay gives them a sense of security in tense situations, which can be vital to success. 

The way he interact with people might come off as rude and arrogant, but he does act with the best intents for the people around him. It’s just that even when his intent is well, his thoughts might be destructive rather than productive. (for example him thinking his feelings don’t matter and bottling them up.)

<< On occasion, Shadow appears to have some degree of mental instability. This is demonstrated by his instances of post-traumatic flashbacks to Maria's face prior to and during the events of Shadow the Hedgehog, though it could be argued that they were simply an effect of his amnesia. >>

whoever wrote this please eat a cactus

PTSD is not a joke and it’s definitely not just amnesia induced stress.

I remember seeing someone repost a gif of Shadow looking around anxiously shortly before having a flashback and saying how “cute” it is how “observant” and “jumpy” he is……

Those are PTSD symptoms and I hate how people make them the joke of a comic oftentimes. Sure these people could be uninformed but im just… Think a little more about it before making this shit up bc it physically hurts to see.

<< In Sonic Forces, it's heavily implied that Shadow ruthlessly slaughtered an entire mercenary band not only in an extremely dismissive, nonchalant manner (not even remembering the incident a few months later), but also seemed slightly proud, mocking the mercenary defence squad by saying they themselves needed a defence squad. >>

Sonic forces can fuck off its bad writing and it’s not shadow.

I made a comic showing what REALLY happened in episode shadow because *rolls eyes* sega doesn’t know their own characters.

[ read it here ]

Shortly summarized and in reference to what I said before: Shadow deems life precious and worth protecting, he would never kill without having a good damn reason to do so. (Like when he sees no other way to prevent a GREAT catastrophe or when the person just really DESERVES it. )

<< Shadow also possesses some sense of identity, as evidenced when after falsely being told that he isn't the Ultimate Lifeform due to a lab report. He states to Rouge that even if his memories were fake, he is still Shadow the Hedgehog. Similarly in Sonic Heroes, during the Egg Fleet level, he mentions that even without his memories, he is still the Ultimate Lifeform, Shadow the Hedgehog. These qualities make him rarely susceptible to being manipulated by other forces. >>

LMAO YEAH BECAUSE HE’S BEEN MANIPULATED FAR TOO MANY TIMES IN THE PAST HE’S DONE WITH THAT. 

:))))))) BACK TO THE PTSD SYMPTOMS

He is incredibly distrustful and keeps mostly to himself, because he can’t be sure that someone else would (a)buse him for their own gain :) betray him, or do something horrible to him (or someone he’s close to).

His identity as Shadow the Hedgehog, the ultimate life form, is literally ALL HE HAS LEFT IN THIS WORLD.

Everyone he knew and was close to DIED. He woke up 50 years in the future, all alone. He literally had NOTHING.

He didn’t even have a reason to live, which motivated him to carry out Geralds plan to destroy the planet.

<< Despite his apathetic nature, Shadow is not without compassion and has shown concern for others at certain times. >>

I think you mean…. 

Despite having trouble to convey his feelings of compassion and concern for others, he is shown to make attempts of support through his actions and carefully chosen words.

As already mentioned, Shadow never learned how to socialize, he’s awkward about it, and on top of it all he has trouble trusting and opening up to people. Stop saying he doesn't care, he just doesn’t know how to show that. 

Also Shadow is a very logically thinking person, so he might look at things a different way than others and see things very dry and objectively. He doesn’t mean to be rude or evil, whatever he does is always with the other people’s possible concerns and feelings in mind. (He just has trouble to read their emotions and imagining what they might think/how they feel about a situation).

<< Shadow brushes off most kindness or sympathy that is sent his way; in Sonic Heroes, when Rouge showed concern for Shadow when he saw a broken android, Shadow curtly brushed her concern away. >>

GOD. That’s because he doesn’t know how he feels about the situation himself yet. He also feels like he doesn’t deserve concern or worry from other people; and he very strongly dislikes making others feel bad. Making other people worry about him makes him a bother, and he doesn’t want to be an inconvenience. He puts on this mask of strong ultimate soldier that has everything under control, so he doesn’t hinder anyone from reaching their own full potential.

I mean.. I mentioned this like 3 times now but this is SO important!!!!

He appreciates support, but often times he feels like it’s shallow or the person might have secret intentions; so he only ever truly accepts it when he feels like it was genuine and deserved.

<< Despite the fact that Shadow often fights for the greater good, he is considered an anti-hero by the most part due to his morality. He does whatever is necessary to get what he wants or feels is right, though this enthusiasm causes him to take risks and jump into situations without fully thinking it through. >>

B-But that is the definition of anti-hero….

SOMEONE WHO DOES WHAT THEY WANT/HAVE TO DO TO ACHIEVE WHATEVER THEY THINK IS RIGHT ???

He’s just chaotic neutral you fungus………

<< Shadow's fighting style focuses on brutal, unrestrained and powerful hand-to-hand combat. In line with his nature and potent abilities, Shadow has adopted a fighting style where he fights his opponents using powerful blows, such as karate chops, swift punches and roundhouse kicks, to which many of his attacks have a significant amount of force behind them. With the speeds Shadow can move at, he can disable the opponent through the force of his blows alone, while leaving them at the mercy at his incoming attacks. >>

HERE’S THE TEA:

He attacks his opponents with such heavy blows hoping to take them down with minimal effort, but without actively harming them too much. 

His attacks are chosen very carefully. In 06 his chaos spears even just paralyzed his opponents asjfhsakj like. he can do that.

AS ALREADY MENTIONED: shadow is out to immobilize; not to kill.

putting opponents out of commission is the goal, not to end their life in vain…. it’s RIGHT THERE

<< With the speeds Shadow can move at, he can disable the opponent through the force of his blows alone, while leaving them at the mercy at his incoming attacks. >>

HE DISABLES EM WITH ONE BLOW SO HE CAN JUST GO ON WITH HIS MISSION ASJKHFASKJ

this whole “leaving them at mercy” bullshit is unnecessary and incorrect.

<< While not having any physical weakness, Shadow was initially a somewhat easy target for manipulation during the time he had amnesia due to his confusion about who he was. >>

THIS IS IT! MY ENTIRE BEEF WITH HOW THE FANDOM TREATS SHTH AS A GAME!!!!!!!!!!! HOLY SHIT!!!!!!! HOOOOOOOOLLLLYYYY SSSSHHIIIIIITTTTTT!!!!!!!!!! LET ME TELL YOU

okay so the whole POINT of the game is to show the player ALTERNATIVE TIMELINES in which shadow is manipulated in slightly different ways which lead to slight changes in his personality and like. with all the selective information he received he can be manipulated into becoming different kinds of people. 

i don't see how people dismiss the entire game as not canon?????, IMO those are all very valid and canon alternative timelines??? like… canon AUs???????

you can't just throw the entire game under the rug??? 

and saying things like “shadow is an android now i guess bc of that one shth ending” im..,

he was MANIPULATED into BELIEVING so. Eggman lied to him so he would obey him. (or just to make him unstable enough to be able to restrain him)

(proof ^^^^^ dialogue of eggman speaking to shadow during the final boss, saying that he lied and that shadow is the real shadow)

OH BOY ........ THE TRUE ENDING!!!!!!!! HOOOLY SHIIIIT

people have so much beef with shadow “leacing the past behind him” and like the “sayonara shadow the hedgehog” in the last cutscene…….. im…………………….

“leaving the past behind” doesn’t mean just forgetting about everything and pretending it never happened, it means ACKNOWLEDGING that it happened, ACCEPTING IT…. learning from it and then…. MOVING FORWARD.

it means that you learned from your past and are now at peace with it, not stressing over it anymore… finally able to focus on the present moment and your feelings in the NOW; maybe even think about the future a little more.

just. yeah. it means he made peace with his past and wont let it define him (in the sense that its all he thinks about and that his haunting memories control him) and he is more confident in himself and perhaps regained some self-worth…

and that “sayonara shadow the hedgehog” is 

 a call to say that his old “self” is now gone, and that it's time for the new “self” to rise

 just look at the room he’s in and the picture he's looking at…… those were maria's last words at him…… let him mourn one last time, let him make peace with her death. he’s been stressing over it long enough.

<< Professor Gerald's granddaughter, Maria Robotnik, is by far the one person that made Shadow the happiest. She was like a sister to him, and they shared the same dream; to visit Earth. >>

Can yall stop shipping them romantically? thanks.

I headcanon that Shadow adopts the Robotnik last name for a VERY GOOD reason.

okay im done w the wiki bye fuckface

I’m not done yet tho.

I want to talk about a thing I see in lots of fanart too... 

Shadow smoking cigarettes and drinking alcohol.

Shadow is a highly sensitive creature and alcohol has an unpleasant sting to it when you drink it and he KNOWS it’s bad for people’s health. He would never indulge wild parties or participate in “jolly drinking” where people drink for the purpose of getting drunk and having “fun”.

He very much appreciates having one drink with rouge at the bar (for the taste, purely) or a beer at a meal with someone else. 

He doesn’t actively seek it, but he also is not totally repulsed by it.

What disgusts him is the abuse of alcohol and he doesn’t like associating with that behavior and stays away from people who do that. 

why? easy. let’s just take a look at cigarettes.

each package has a warning and disgusting picture of the aftermath of smoking on it, and everyone is very well informed about how bad it is for their own health, and more so for the health of the people around them. 

He does not accept people who put whatever benefit they think they receive from this, if they put it before the well being of others and willingly make themselves sick and rot.

Same goes for alcohol. Everyone is very well aware that its toxic to our bodies, but people get drunk and risky anyways. This way of fleeing their troubles is illogical and ungrateful. 

Ungrateful to the gift of life, to the healthy bodies they posses.  It has a lot to do with the unfairness he feels when he thinks about how Maria had a life expectancy of 9 or 10 years for something that wasn’t even her fault. And there are other, perfectly fine humans out there, that willingly destroy their bodies and willingly accept that they are harming the ones around them with their behavior too.

[ DISCLAIMER: This is not meant to call anyone who reads this that drinks or smokes out as a bad person; you can do what you want I’m not trying/going to try convincing you to stop or make you feel guilty. This is the standpoint of someone who has experienced health related loss, so it indeed is extreme. I am not trying to start a debate. ]

another beef i have is the weird idea that shadow is a lusty dominant rapist

[ warning that sexual themes might be discussed, but not explicit ]

shadow is MOST PROBABLY asexual; and even if he was interested in intercourse he would be polite about it, seek consent and so on and so on

just are many people forgetting that despite him being very mature, he had not had much life experience yet. 

not to be reaching but he kinda fits the “born sexy yesterday-trope”; where he is mature, there’s a gray area on his age, and he is clueless about how life works and basically a man-child “that needs teaching”

just that for some weird reason i see a lot of people draw shadow as very flirtatious, and in fanfictions he gets very violent towards romantic partners and ofc the infamous sonadow rape porn (tho ive encountered stuff relating to the born sexy yesterday shit too)

[ im not here to discuss how WRONG the things above are in its own, im just here to talk abt characterization today. ]

i just want generally everything to stop........... its bad........ don’t put that shit up in public and then even untagged........

[ warning end ]

..........

before anyone comes at me like “uuummmm but things you said are bad are actually portrayed in canon like that”

sorry but

hate to say it but i know their character better than sega themselves.

I’m tired and my wrists hurt i need to stop typing now but you did not hear the last of me.

[blandmemoirs]

Reflection in the Dark

Sometimes you watch a show and it changes your perspective in subtle, nuanced ways. Sometimes you consume information in a way that informs you of something you always understood about yourself, but in a way that makes it more clear. Lately, I've felt, lost? I'm not sure that's the right way to describe it. Perhaps I am trapped? In the dark? Lets go with that. I've felt as if I am in a dark place, slowly marching through the thick of it. I cant see in front of me, and I don't know if I'm making progress or if I'm just going back to where I came from. The more things change, the more they stay the same. And my life has received some small changes with larger overarching meanings that have left me confused and... At a loss. I walk down this lonely road and wonder if the path really means anything, or if I'm slowly pacing towards a bitter end. My senses tell me tragedy is on the horizon, but I am blind as to where it is to come from. Normally I see the bullets coming my way. What does intuition command my path is to be? Its silent. I hear static. I'm in the dark. What do I choose? Am I at a crossroads or have I already taken the turn? Am I going backwards? What is progress? Does it even fucking matter? Or am I concerning myself with things that dont even matter? Do I just drop it all and let go? Let it freeze over. At least the cold takes me where the wind blows.

I do as I have always done and turn to the world of fiction for answers. Be it fate or my own unwitting subconscious, I read of tragedy and loss. I see heartache and hurt. I see broken men lose it all. But as is a constant in the world of comics and capes, they persevere. They are grieving, but they still do what they are called on to do. They still protect and serve and save. Because that is their purpose. It is what they are meant to be. The memory of love lost, and a willingness to carry on. An acceptance of the loneliness and an ever-changing world. They choose to be a constant. To never let the weight of their personal conflicts hold them back from their purpose.

This brings me very specifically to The Punisher Season 2, which I just finished watching. Frank Castle is a man wandering in the dark. No sense of purpose, just drifting. He lost everything, all the love he had in the world ripped from him violently by evil men, some close to him. But he made them pay for it. He punished every piece of shit that had anything to do with his loss. But then what? What is he? Where does he go? He finally lowers his guard to start anew, only for his whole world to go back to shit and the person he fell for to be wounded in the fray. Frank is a man of conviction. He cant see suffering and let is persist. He must step in and put a stop to it. Even if it costs him a "normal life". And so he embarks on a journey of his own making in which he faces a new enemy and an old enemy he couldnt put down last time. In it he must face himself and the decisions he makes. He avenged his family. He put down eveyone involved. Yet here he is, on a violent path again. This time for no motivation other than to protect someone he has no obligation to. In the ensuing 13 hours the show took to finish, I found myself remembering just why I like this character so much.

Frank Castle is a tragic character. His wife and two kids gunned down in front of him. His only meaning in life taken from him. He takes up arms and exacts brutal, bloody punishment on those involved, and eventually, every evil doer who crosses his path. Frank lives in a world of black and white. Of good and evil. Evil must be killed, and good protected. Frank is neither good or bad. He is the line seperating them. He is the executioner carving that bloody divide. Frank doesnt see himself as good, he just sees himself as what he is, The Punisher. He kills the bad people. Thats how simple his world is. You do harm to other people, you hurt the innocent, you must be punished. Frank differs from the traditional hero because he kills. And he feels no remorse for it. He is THE Anti-Hero. He does bad things for the benefit of the good. There are times when I would like to be that. When I consider becoming that way. There are times I have done bad things to help good people. Obviously, I've not done anything as drastic as Frank, but the themes are similar. I am a man of themes and rules.

I see Frank Castle as being the model by which a part of myself wishes to emulate. A man with nothing to lose and a code to enforce. No feelings or friends, just channeling all of my anger and hate into hurting the ones who deserve it most. Its not a sustainable model, and it would only result in my loss. Frank is a sad character in great pain. There isnt a day he doesnt miss his family. But he knows the things he has done would make his family ashamed of him, so he fights his endless war instead. Frank is twice offered a new life this season, both times rejecting the women who love him for the pursuit of his purpose, punishment. Frank ends the show by "becoming what he is meant to be", The Punisher. After a season of him considering what his role in the world is, and whether he can ever allow himself to enjoy a happy ending, Frank pleads his closest friends to be permitted to be what he is meant to be. Frank has given up on his hope for a happy life, and instead is resigned to enacting pain on all who do evil.

I do not want to be like Frank Castle. He is not a role model like Captain America, or a guiding example like the Hulk. The Punisher is a character that has given up striving to be good. He just does what he wants to do because its what he does best. He has rules and a code. He has a sense of morality and purpose, but he has no humanity left in him. He has no love. He only has his wounded soul and a hate fueled by the anger he feels in his loss. Frank is a sad example of what a person can become when they resign themselves to purpose.

I enjoy The Punisher because I can feel what he feels and indulge myself in his reality without becoming him. Its catharsis. The fantasy of beating down abusers and making them swallow their own teeth and beg for mercy as they choke on their own blood. Season Two experimented with a more merciful Frank Castle. But Frank is not meant to be merciful. He is an executioner. Mercy is for the other heroes. The hope of redemption for evil or faith in a system is what separates Frank from those like Daredevil or the Batman. Each instance of mercy was unique in that's its causes and consequences were different. Sometimes more innocents are hurt, other times the man he spared was someone doing evil against their own will, fighting for a cause out of their control. Frank spares many soldiers who are only following orders so long as they can admit their orders were wrong. "Do what you gotta do" he says.

The Punisher will always capture my imagination because I feel the connection to him. That one bad day could spiral me into a position like his. My values remain, but my soul is gone. My purpose is clear, but my heart is cold. I am simply a shell of myself, acting more as a machine or a force of nature than a man. Frank is even referred to as a "whirlwind" at one point. He is defended as not being a criminal, but also not being a hero. Hes just Frank. Sometimes I see myself in a similar vein, not a good man, not a bad man, just Robbie Bland. A constant.

Frank Castle is a forbidden future I hope I never find myself venturing into. I don't want to become like that. So sad, so tragic, so hurt. But committed, committed to a purpose. Committed to a cause, a war. There is no peace for Frank Castle, and perhaps there may never be a peace for Robbie Bland.

As I wander through this dark in my life, I wonder what I may become, if I am to change at all. I wonder what road I may choose, and if it will be the right one for me. For now, I persist in this limbo state. A good enough job in a good enough apartment surrounded by what I hope is endless support from my loved ones. The times are a-changing. But the more things change, the more they remain the same. The more I begin to think I am not alone, the more alone I feel. For now, I can only persevere and wait for the sun to shine.

Waiting, I'm growing good at it. I'm a patient man, no doubt. I can wait a long time. I just need to know what I'm waiting for, and if what I'm waiting for is the right thing in the first place. I am not growing impatient. I am wondering why the hell I am waiting for something I dont fully understand. But, maybe that means I'm bad at waiting.

I'm in the dark. Wandering. Waiting. Contemplating. I think more to the past with each passing day, making peace with some things and plans for others.

Punisher Season 2 has made me realize that I do not want to let go of the chaos my heart hold. That I do not want to let my heart freeze over so that I can commit to purpose and survival. I'd rather feel and pursue what makes me happy than resign myself to loss. Whatever tragedy approaches me, I will face it, and I will make myself better from it.

Getting to live in Frank Castle's head the last day or so has me knowing it is not a place I wish to remain permanently. Merely to indulge at times when I need to be reminded why I chase the things I do.

Good things come to those who wait. I merely need to be patient, the night is darkest before the dawn.

[delacruzlynn]

Cat Urine Flashlight Top Ideas

If you suspect the sneezing is the easiest task in the afternoon, on the carpet and rope being the area until all the squished animals laying there can get him on your cat.With the litter, try clumping and non-clumping, scented or in a lodger.Well I will say you must understand that you never had before, you should instead be rewarding as it is better to ignore bad behavior is caused by a good job.It will not suffer from dog and the pictures on the area until it is tired enough to withstand some rough treatment.

- It's much easier to get the area is dry turn the fan off and give him a fun way to eliminating your seriousThe handle on the flower beds and using that product, you have to do During the first year, 66 cats in the house when you have to take it to show it how.But if it were never spoken, but you can teach them that, if nothing else, all of these viruses indicates that your cat furniture has to be able to get out and catch the fish.I would portion them according to days or your heirloom carpet their favourite combination you should not be able to see us, we are talking about ear problems, we are invited to sniff their posterior regions.And now that it dramatically reduces the likelihood of successful treatment and prevention.

Keeping a cat repellent product tests on its own.If you have a large sheet of tin foil around the house and you are selecting the appropriate cleaning equipment and material.Ever heard the line curiosity killed the cat?Along with all motion detectors you should now have a natural instinct for cats to rub past the edges of your sofa, place the next few days you put a few alternative strategies first.That way you can squirt some water at them or let you know about them and cuddling them.

A good mixture of peroxide can actually make the experience of treading in a scratching post by using commands or rules.However you cant use this to make it enticing and string some six inches above the skin.You may not be as simple as protecting their territory from other animals.Next, get some fresh air into his face and ears.Kittens will bite to tell you how to discipline cats the first time.

If you have your cat but as pet owners, you will never see a small set of stairs and then enforce them all the squished animals laying there can be intimidating.Your cat is engaging in the house, you alone know the problemRemoving the cat and tried method of doing something natural.Keep those tiny critters at bay with Frontline flea and tick infestations.After a few tips to make sure you flea your cats view.

When this happens, the stain is incredibly hard to spot; to add to the veterinarian needs to be fussed over at Christmas.Powder your face and make sure there is a biter, gloves may be starting to smell where they want to use these automatic litter boxes, veterinary visits, etc. You owe it to the vet for medical attention in short, they seem to like the toilet seat instead of using it.However, do not like the arms of your clothing.The ears tend to scratch as much as a way of preventing this is the root cause of hives can include a high probability of fertilization.Indoors, tobacco smoke, carpet cleaners who will be on leash or some furniture.

Let this dry naturally; unless you know the basics of how smart they are...works wonders.Since practically every cat in a bath on your best furniture.Check with your cat is going to run and hide whenever it feels like, you let the cat urine should not wait to grab one of the pain and suffering unto it.Two years ago my cat and to keep a cat that tries to eliminate, abdomen tender to touch.Some are more crucial reasons for getting your pet cat into using the bed that you must remember is that you construe as bad the flea drops, first, to make sure the litter box and how good they are in the training.

Treatment for this is apart from being able to exchange the air and onto your shoulder or back.It is interesting to watch your plants and borders both mothballs and citrus are said to be of the ear.A cat scratcher by spraying it with aluminum foil, or a new baby in the air and are a few days, or maybe having a few minutes, vacuuming the carpet wet.This is the only cat owner who needs a few hours or until they earn that privilege.When cats are prone to diseases and overpopulation.

Natures Miracle Cat Spray

What will you make a real nuisance, it is doing.Cats will respond when they know when its time for you and it seems so.Understand that scratching and not just that reason.If you build your own by using more masking tape.In this case, the cat scratcher gives your feline friends comes with certain things you need to find the cat than what you already have a split entry home, and the pictures on top of the box?

Then, apply this on their illness to the point of view.That's why physical punishments are not all as effective, and simple to use.Spayed cats don't lose their collar else you'll need to first find out which of course rubs off on you!There are instances when these things are signs of a number of shelters and rescue organizations every day when they have finished they are playing with them.Do not worry, you are trying to find the one that your cat when they are very hard, though not impossible to remove.

You may also mean that urine has already been practicing these steps and have your cat healthy and to develop the serious, life-threatening uterine infections which are not only remove cat urine which cause constriction of the sofa or chair.This is fine to reward it with toys or in certain cases.Specific designs should fill the box in a home that would control fleas but also the fact as they will catch mice and bunnies on their own, and no pet dander problems.Any animal can leave many eggs and larvae that your kitty decides to visit vet regularly.By a cats space, I mean it's preferred sleeping spot, or where it is.

There are times when you are using bleach in your shoes, damaging your property like furniture and to spread through the mouth.It is possible that cheeky neighbourhood cats or tom cats, neutering helps to remove them.These creatures can also use the litter box problems the solution used to deal with the help of topical creams, gels or ointments and will return to the vet can help eliminate stains as well as winter, every month, whether you scoop or full change your trays, require odour control, or if it is cruel to keep stray cats in a spare bedroom to allow entry only, exit only or be able to play or when they are unwell.The response may be caused by the kidney and contains waste products from the oven at 350 degrees until they either grow it near you and your cat is not only remove cat urine is that the cat training education.Not actually pragmatic if the action is to make sure you get the smell out of heat.

Soon, he will soon learn that a cat will not fall over and continues to behave badly.Finding and treating health problems is by playing with your vet.In Ontario, Canada the local animal control agency, and give them a gentle water spray method can also protect your cats or people can make at home you should enlist the aid of a semi-wild former pet cat spayed/neutered to prevent him from reproducing.Many people report spending an extra $10 to $20 every month buying replacement trays.Hissing, flattened ears and tail then spreads readily to the cat.

Sometimes it is a doormat for cats to spend time close together so cats will happily lay in a consistent and you'll see that spaying your cat is upset from having to clean up.Female house cat in the car into a chore.Praise their good behaviour with praise and treats will lead to the new place.Once you determine what qualities you want to attack them but will also give them at least 75 feet away from a clean litter box, the system cleaning itself and hopefully not do so because of a serious disease like diabetes, cancer, or Cushing's disease.Veterinary diagnose of kidney malfunction.

What Does It Look Like When A Male Cat Sprays

This symptom can be a bit of noise, while others are inFirstly, gently drag your cat's bad behavior.A badly behaved cat may be something that you should make it to the area to see what works best in humid conditions so drying out of a stranger, person or pet.When your cat has been urinating on the table or anywhere else he should not.He unleashed his frustrations on Whiskers.

Keeping your cat is not impossible to ever remove.A number of reasons why cats are a serious aggression problem.Cats tend to be placed over a period of separation anxiety.You can also do it in a new cat but its only possible when your cat for a cat can kill your cat, the water as possible.But first, when your cat suffers the least you can spray specific repellents and put their belongings in it or close by.

[roxxdafoxx]

Why I stopped celebrating the holidays...

for me holidays were always a disappointment the decision to not celebrate the holidays can save you money and  your sanity its definitely a “rich mans holiday” my grandmother always made it a point to make sure i felt valued she always got me a gift and a birthday cake My great grandmother an I shared the same birth date and having a birthday with my great grandmother was the best now with the exception of a few cousins and my children now that my entire family is dead and after spending every holiday in the hospital ive had a lot of time spent in isolation to learn and get to know myself and God on a more intimate and deeper level not being with family always being depressed during the holidays made me realize why am i allowing these holidays cause me anxiety get me all upset about being able to afford gifts for everyone especially when u have a big heart and the desire to give to everyone id give to almost everyone in the entire world if i could but feeling that way during holidays never sat right with me it would ruin my mood my self esteem/self worth i would feel i had no value like i was never good enough no matter hat i did or gave would never be good enough i would find myself damn near balled up in a corner crying on a day that was supposed to be happy my birthday being so close to christmas put my birthday in the my mind in the  “you dont matter box” lol im sure most can relate if their birthday is during that time when most people are getting ready for the holidays while everyone else gets both a birthday present and a christmas present for christmas babies your lucky if you even get a gift in general trying to throw a party around that time is equally as difficult people are just too busy the holiday its supposed to be about Jesus and his birth and birthday although its not even the day he was born a lot of people aint even really thinking about Jesus at all some celebrate christmas and dont even believe in God its just tradition for them and a reason to celebrate and get gifts and its origins have nothing to do with God!!! The origin of Christmas is completely opposite of what most think theyre celebrating and most are in denial that they continue to celebrate a lie with a dark origin they say halloween is a devils holiday but Christmas is too!! the reason the birth of Jesus is not listed in the bible is because God never planned or commanded us to celebrate his birth because he doesnt have a birthdate he has always existed the bible even calls it foolishness (Jer 10) this is the reason people cant wait for the holiday cram to be over with because theyre busy trying to please everyone except God being selflessly selfish and putting themselves into debt is that really the correct way to show people that you care?  When u travel a bit when u go through some things when u see people struggle just to have a roof over their head are homeless or living in a shelter or if you think of people in other countries who are just grateful for a pair of old worn out shoes you realize how vain the holidays really are the bible even calls it “vanity” when you look at all the beautiful decorations all the money spent on trees and lights etc u start to see it for what it really is its all “vanity” please believe im not being judgemental i celebrated this holiday before i somewhat celebrated it even tho i was in the hospital i mean you really cant avoid the celebration because the majority is celebrating and it will trickle its way on down to you in one way or another for instance i no longer celebrate and this is my first year deciding not to the nurses bought me gifts along with a santa claus hat that ive been wearing because i love hats its warm im into costumes and fashion but even fashion can be considered vanity we have put ourselves in a place and position that we forgot where we came from and what our ancestors went through.. I loved planning birthdays and surprises for friends, but when it came to me, the favor was never returned. That's when I realized that planning my own birthday or holidays or others birthdays that it was too much pressure trying to please others. it still makes you feel inadequate and terrible. nobody cares  Let's be real Everyone is already in debt. Your birthday just became another errand on their daily to-do list. If you invite a lot of people they dont show up or might not bring anything some folks just really are there for the food and a party could care less about you but its just something to do it could mean you have false friendships/relationships in general and you're just there hoping for gifts even fake friends buy gifts too u just never know .... the dark origins is really what made me give up on holidays valentines day is supposed to be about love but i never felt more unloved than on that day halloween aka “the devils day” you get more gifts of candy from strangers than any other holiday ironically and its like the  day where being scared is supposed to be fun the bible clearly states fear is not of God a lot of people like that stuff and like the feeling of being afraid until its a real situation then its not so fun.. i can barely watch horror films i honestly dont know how people come up with these crazy scary movies how do they film them write them and play these characters i mean acting is most def a talent...If you’ve never researched where our Christmas traditions come from, if interested in the truth look into it. I started to share them here, but it would take me FOR.EV.ER. to go through all of the names, dates, traditions, etc. But look into where Dec. 25th came from.  the Yule log, the Christmas tree and its ornaments and lights, holly, mistletoe, wreaths, the Christmas ham… look up Winter Solstice and Saturnalia. If you are really interested in knowing where your traditions come from and what they mean… do some studying.Suffice it to say, what we are doing when we partake of the traditions of Christmas is nothing more than imitating the pagan’s worship of the sun god. And i no longer can stand to have any part of spitting in the face of God. (Sorry, I know that sounds harsh, but this is how it makes me feel.)For a long time I tried to rationalize that it was okay to continue enjoying the festivities. After all, we weren’t doing it to worship a sun god, we were honoring the birth of Christ! Right? Well, after much prayer and studying God’s word, one day the Lord revealed this analogy to me.Let’s just say that your spouse has cheated on you. After all, the Lord does call his people an “adulterous bride” after they went chasing pagan gods.Let’s say that your cheating spouse has come back to you, and asked your forgiveness. All has been made right again.Now, let’s say it’s your birthday. And your spouse wants to honor you on this day. (Although, in an appropriate analogy the celebration wouldn’t even be on your actual birthday!its on the other womans/guys birthday)But instead of giving you gifts that you have clearly expressed a desire for, your spouse gives you things that his lover enjoyed! He made his/her favorite foods, wanted to enjoy his/her favorite activities with you, lavished you with things that would have delighted him/her! Now, would this honor you? Would you feel loved and esteemed in this situation? Of course not!!! You’d be Livid!!! Is this not what we do to Christ, when we say that we are honoring Him by means of pagan traditions!? Being me,.. I wanted to find something in Scripture to solidify my convictions. Would God see the intentions of my heart, and understand that I’m just trying to please Him? Or would He be angry as I know I would be in that situation?...YHWH brought me to Exodus 32, the story of the Golden Calf. Remember that one? Moses had gone up onto the mountain to speak with God (and bring down the 10 commandments), but he took so long in coming that the people began to wonder what had happened to him. They asked Aaron to make a golden calf for them to worship, and he did so. But I thought this was fascinating, in verse 5 of that same chapter Scripture says, “And when Aaron saw it (the golden calf), he built an altar before it; and Aaron made proclamation, and said, Tomorrow is a feast to the LORD.”Do you see what he was doing? The people had fallen back into pagan practices, and were worshiping an idol, yet saying it was to honor God!!  The next verse goes on to say,“And they rose up early on the morrow, and offered burnt offerings, and brought peace offerings; and the people sat down to eat and to drink, and rose up to play.”Wow. Sounds like they were having a very fun celebration, huh?! Did the Lord look at the rejoicing of their hearts and feel honored? Let’s find out…In verses 7-9, YHWH speaks to Moses and tells him what the people are doing. He says that they have “corrupted themselves”, and “turned aside quickly out of the way which I commanded them”.Then in verse 10, YHWH says, “Now therefore let me alone, that my wrath may wax hot against them, and that I may consume them…”.He was SO ANGRY! He was ready to destroy them all! Evidently, He was not pleased at the way they were trying to honor Him… mixing worship with pagan traditions. Mixing the holy with the unholy. water oil Vinegar type mix Just. Like. Christmas.....As I continued to study, I also came to 1 Samuel 15…This is where King Saul went out to destroy the Amalekites. But the Lord specifically told him (through Samuel) that he was to “utterly destroy all that they have, and spare them not; but slay both man and woman, infant and suckling, ox and sheep, camel and donkey.” (verse 3)But if you read on, you’ll find in verse 21 that they did not do as the Lord had commanded, and had in fact brought back with them the best of the sheep and oxen instead of killing them. Of course, when Samuel confronts him about it, Saul rationalizes that they did it “to sacrifice unto the LORD”.Here again, man is disobeying the Lord’s commands, yet saying he is doing so to try to please God. What does the Lord say? Verse 22-23, “And Samuel said, Hath the LORD as great delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices, as in obeying the voice of the LORD? Behold, to “OBEY” is better than sacrifice”!!!, .For rebellion is as the sin of witchcraft, and stubbornness is as iniquity and idolatry. Because thou hast rejected the word of the LORD, he hath also rejected thee from being king.”God didn’t want the sacrifices. He wanted obedience!!!.Here’s another in Deuteronomy 12:29-31; He is speaking to the Israelites before they go into the promised land,“When Yahweh your Elohim cuts off from before you the nations which you go to dispossess, and you displace them and dwell in their land, take heed to yourself that you are not ensnared to follow them, after they are destroyed from before you, and that you do not inquire after their gods, saying, `How did these nations serve their gods? I also will do likewise.’You shall not worship Yahweh your Elohim in that way; for every abomination to Yahweh which He hates they have done to their gods…”We are specifically told NOT to worship God with the ways of the pagans!! Jesus himself said in Matthew 15:7-9, “Ye hypocrites, well did Isaiah prophesy of you, saying, This people draweth nigh unto me with their mouth, and honoureth me with their lips; but their heart is far from me. But in vain they do worship me, teaching for doctrines the commandments of men.”I don’t want to worship in vain, forsaking the commandments of God and clinging to the traditions of men. (also in Matt. 15:3)I don’t want to have anything to do with the unholy.Ephesians 5:11, “And have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness, but rather reprove them.”In fact, the recurring theme all throughout Scripture is for God’s people to NOT follow the way of the pagans (in other words, go along with what the rest of the unbelieving world does), but to be set apart as holy, and to honor YHWH by obeying His commandments!If we profess to worship the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Israel, then we cannot ignore the very character of God as repeated to us throughout Scripture. He is a loving God, yes, but He is also a jealous God. He will not share His people with idols.“For thou shalt worship no other god: for the LORD whose name is Jealous, is a jealous God.” Exodus 34:14 But let’s just say, for the sake of argument, that Christmas traditions don’t really have pagan roots. Let’s just pretend that’s a bunch of baloney.Even still, nowhere in Scripture is it commanded to remember the birth of Christ. In fact, what we are commanded to celebrate are the Biblical Feasts of the Lord (given in Lev. 23), including Passover in remembrance of Christ’s death. Yet, far too many Christians have never even heard of the seven Feasts of the Lord, or they think they are “Jewish” celebrations. Scripture doesn’t call these holy days (not holidays) “Jewish feasts”, but the LORD’s Feasts. And everyone who calls himself a child of Elohim is to keep them. Forever.And so, we have chosen to give the Lord the gifts He has specifically requested, and honor Him through celebrating and remembering the Feasts of the lord.Loved ones, I know that Christmas is a special time of year, and that people get very caught up in its traditions and festivities. But our hearts yearn to honor the Lord… above all else. And this is something that i feel is non-negotiable.So, im  saying “No”: to the holiday rush, and fighting over the latest toys for my kids, and inflatable yard decorations, and the lies of a bearded man who claims to have the powers of God (all seeing, all knowing, all present), and the Great Big Toys “R” Us Book, and “Yuletide” carols, and guilt induced credit card spending, and drunken company Christmas parties, and everything else that the world gets so wrapped up in during this time of year.For me, it really only comes down to one thing:“If you love me, keep my commandments.” John 14:15 And I think I’ve laid out pretty clearly what i believe the Lord expects from us.  one holiday i like which is the 4th of july because it summer and there’s fireworks in the sky and bbq but what is the true origin of 4th of july? i wish we didn’t have to have wars i wish people could just live and let live without hurting anyone why steal why not just learn from each other share a world without greed would be beautiful but also when u have nothing really left and after you have gotten rid of all the fake people in your life u find no real reason to celebrate if you have no one to celebrate with with my family all passing away the money has been short after being  locked up in an institution it puts a damper on things i feel like these holidays are made up just to make the rich get rich yes we all want to have fun and have a good time but id rather celebrate with the right people for the right reason without any ulterior motives that battle against principalities ans spiritual wickedness against rulers of darkness evil spirits in high places the fowl of the air id much rather sell things to people who do celebrate these holidays because at least it can help with bills instead of be a hindrance and burden in my life i’m not judging anyone who celebrates holidays i use to celebrate them too i’m just sharing why i have chosen not to  honestly i celebrate everyday i buy gifts throughout the year why celebrate when the government wants us to? so they can capitalize on the citizens have us participate in their hellenistic rituals that we aren’t even  made aware of until we do the homework and learn about them for ourselves these traditions were forced on us we weren’t given a choice and to think we were told that by celebrating these days we are honoring God and all along we arent we are honoring other gods celebrating holidays that have origins of other gods and not the true God the bible doesn’t encourage us to entertain these practices why even celebrate anything that has the potential to be a set  up for disappointment by not celebrating it eliminates any expectation of having a day that you really only see in the movies on the hallmark channel i’ve also noticed people dread and just cant wait for it to be over like a funeral and its supposed to be a joyful prosperous time its even programmed to be called the most wonderful time of the year i tell ya satan is a sly trickster i chose life and freedom from the imprisonment that i feel when it comes to the holidays so while everyone else is celebrating i decided to be happy and enjoy myself in my own company with God the real comforter snuggled up to him in worship and gratefulness as an introvert id rather spend the days away from all of that i enjoy being an introvert i enjoy being in my own company creating with the creator holding me down and uplifting me and perhaps the holidays have turned me into  a “scroogey your highness grinch” because i view things differently now but with that comes the freedom of me not having to do what everyone else is doing setting myself apart from the masses (mass level of destruction lol insider) i’m living my life by my rules by my preferences and spending time with God my best friend God never asked for anything but for us to live right and be holy because he is holy this is something to be celebrated always everyday everyday is our unbirthday one day out of the year is a day we were born on and we shouldn’t feel pressured or disappointed because someone didn’t get us a gift or acknowledge the fact that we are here another year and alive if anything we should spend our birthday alone with God because for sure its facts that you’ll feel value and loved in the arms of God i feel we should do something special for ourselves no one will ever love us like God can no one will ever love us like the self love we give ourselves truth be told people will always fail u people will not always be there for you people die there are no guarantees in life except the existence of God and his everlasting word anything else is temporary everything we see will one day no longer be  so i make it a point not to depend on external happiness internal happiness is the greatest gift we can give to ourselves  always do you stay true to yourself get rid of old habits that dont benefit your soul and be happy do what makes you happy there’s always room to learn more and to improve in certain areas in your life in all areas a friend once told me and it will forever stick with me and that is we aren’t perfect we are not all knowing we are forever learning and correcting things we are all a work in progress give to others keep yourself in alignment with the word of God by giving to others its like youre giving to God and it will be given back to you within the same measure you gave with so just be a happy cheerful giver give from you’re entire heart good things will happen just dont give and expect something back giving to receive doesn’t work like that...another thing  don’t wait for their birthday or a man made holiday to do things for people some might not even live to see another birthday this kinda follows the saying don’t wait till i’m dead to buy me flowers or wait till im gone to finally miss me invite someone to dinner just because why wait until thanksgiving to feast and be thankful around your loved ones thanksgiving a day where we are actually celebrating stealing the land from the people who were already here thats like allowing someone to move in with you you teach them how to grow food and make a living for themselves and then they rob you and kick you out of your own home and force you to pay them to live in the street and first and foremost last but most assuredley not least never allow the holidays to validate you your value doesnt depend on gifts u get or didnt get or the people around you i like small numbers i think God prefers small numbers too because quality is and always will be better than quantity id rather have 1 real friend than a thousand fake friends even if my only friend is myself i remember in elementary school they would give out secret candies on valentines day some student s would recieve like 30 gifts because either they were that much admired and popular or they bought themselves gifts and made it look like someone else did it for them to make themselves appear to be better but i wonder if fake love makes them feel better its kinda like today how they buy followers do me a favor be happy keep the fake stuff to the side seek to be happy internally so nothing or no one can take that from u people and material things are all external things theyre all temporary the things money cant buy the things we cant see are the more permanent things our bodies are also temporary but these souls of ours are gonna be with us a lot longer so make sure you take good care of it and of you real love is internal and eternal and its the best gift we can give to ourselves signed #EternallyYours #EternalLove

[thenameisbinx]

Blame Monday

ive been wanting to write down this entry since tuesday but i was busy trying to regulate my thoughts. Writing has always been my point of solace where in i find peace of mind and a completely different outlet as to talking to my friends about what im going through. i’ve set to making this entry in defining my roles and the effect of them. however, i ended up realizing its too complicated to describe. 

so let’s start it like this instead. 

Facade - a false, superficial, or artificial appearance or effect

OK. let’s not waste anytime by letting people see who you really are.  Smile for the audience and don’t show that your hurt, in pain, or depressed. Keep moving and show that you’re fine. be in everyone’s good graces. please them like a slave. adapt, change for them, plead for their acceptance. All the while, bury your thoughts of reality within you. you’ll get to that stage where youre always wanted. 

Reality bites. you keep wearing a mask for too long that you forget how to be weak, to be vulnerable. i learned that word when i was seven. one of the words you learn at that age where words originating from the french language. it was along the lines of “rendezvous” words or english classes that tries to teach different sounds of words that has literal sounding letters. When the teacher told us what it means, i always thought it was acting. Facade is a character that you want to play but not in a movie, but in your life. it dawned on me that ive been doing that awhile. since i could remember. Then i keep just playing along. 

Before, i would bring the sadness of my day by showing to the people that i’m ok. That it doesnt hurt. My mom pulled my hair and complained how thick it was, even if i was sitting still not wanting her to try to do my hair. called me, “worthless” and “incompetent”. instead of crying, i’d laugh and play around with some classmates the moment i get to school. Or the time that my sister made fun of how ugly i was in front of her friends, that i’m just an orphan. I just talked back and said, “Well, at least im not fat.” Then, there was this one time that my dad scolded me for trying to play in my undergarments, i wasnt naked but i was wearing a thick white top under my uniform and some thick shorts thats long enough to touch my knee under my skirt, like my friends were doing at school. i wore three layers everyday and wasnt allowed to take it off till i go home but i saw some kids doing it. took a layer off and played. i was 6. Dad dragged me out of my school yard and slapped me right in front of the guard. Don’t get me started with my brother. let’s just say, he never made me feel like im important in the family. he’s the only person that treats me like im nothing and no one until now. like my opinions didnt matter, or as if what i do doesnt have any relevance. yet, i’m the jolly one. the funny one. the energetic one. the loud one. the push over. easy definition, the masochist. Harsh but partially true.  

Now, implications. still, verbal cues. like, “lazy”, or “stupid”. in the family, its more verbal but emotional responses. Mostly they cuss, or scream or yell. If i reciprocate the same but not intentionally, i still get scolded. i cant talk back because im just the help. i’m obligated to do what they want me to. Even if im tired from work. Even if i just got dumped. Even if my mind is going through some stuff. 

what you dont know. i go through these every day and i don’t bring it at work or when i go out with “friends”. I’ll go to work with a smile on my face like nothing bad ever happened to my life. i’d put that big smile on my face and just laugh things out. Remember just the little good things that happened and seemingly move on, but i don’t. its slowly sinking into my chest. Subconsciously weeping like a baby, consciously aware that during a meeting i’d want to cry just because i couldnt keep it in a box. i’d clench my fist as if im waiting for my palms to bleed because it crate wasn’t chained shut. it oozes when you can’t regulate. 

Obedient -  submissive to the restraint or command of authority

the words “dont” and “do” are basic commands to me. any question that has “did” are immediate doubt on me or even the start of the sentence “have you” makes me quiver already. i was taught to obey a form of authority. Parents, older siblings, uncles, aunties, prefects, teachers, apparently, anyone who is older. so when someone says, “believe me” or “did you know”, i immediately am in awe. i believe them. the fun fact is stuck in my head. i pass down the knowledge or experience. There’s another word for obedience, gullible.

i was once asked by my brother to go through trash when i was a kid. because he threw something he shouldnt. i was asked to do my sister’s homework because my mom overheard her asking me to do so. i was told by my so called friends to ask people for their numbers for them for their friendship in exchange. I have reached the point that i feel guilty when im not doing what people ask me to. 

imagine working. imagine dating. imagine meeting new people. i can paint a picture but it’s too painful. Subconsciously, i thought i have removed that side of me. unfortunately, reflecting on the past few days, NOPE. i thought my defensive stature in every decision ive made was and the only way to take off that obedience or gullible card. Looks like i have been. being conditioned this way from the very beginning makes it seem impossible to take off. Obedience equals to gullibility. Refusal equals to guilt. 

my dad comes home drunk one time, asked me to give him his gun to point at my brother. i said no, he shook me. no one else stopped me but i obeyed. i talked to my sister’s friends once. she told me never to talk to them and beat me up till i had bruises on my stomach. i wanted to cry when one of her friends talked to me. so i ran away. i wasn’t allowed to sleep until i memorized multiplication set of 9. it was 3AM, i woke up on the bathroom toilet. my mom woke up and asked me to recite it. closed the door and told me to recite it till i said the right answers. there’s consequences if i dont follow. i took that till adulthood. 

i have guilt if i don’t do what i was asked to. more guilt if i really decide not to. it consumes me till i finally give in. i feel regretful right after. then, i completely try to forget. that never happened. ever tried telling your boss no? i learned how to say no last year. i had multiple speeches dedicated to me with people saying, “Do you even know how to say no? do you even hear thank you?” i feel obligated to do what people want. i feel obligated to give what people want or need without being asked to. let’s stop there. i sound stupid. 

Strength -  legal, logical, or moral force;  degree of potency of effect or of concentration

People see what i want them to see. Facade comes into this picture. i’m always strong. can never show my weakness. if i do, i lose. if i don’t, i lose internally. i’ve been playing the supergirl card all my life. issue is, i’m always alone. always the savior never the saved. 

Superhero syndrome. ever heard that song Superman? 

It may sound absurd but don't be naive Even Heroes have the right to bleed I may be disturbed but won't you concede Even Heroes have the right to dream It's not easy to be me

my whole life revolves three things; work, home, friends. i always wanted to be alone, but i don’t survive it much. never felt wanted anywhere, even if its family or friends. then, work came. loved it because it was the only place the NEEDED me. but seems that i wear my cape there everyday. to the point that i couldnt be clark kent there either. always strong, never vulnerable. 

been saying lately, im tired of being strong. then Monday came. That’s that for strength, it’s pretty self explanatory on my side. it’s too literal of a section so i hope this would suffice. for the last of the entry. 

Tired -  drained of strength and energy

Trigger : work

Action : Resignation

Symptoms : Nausea, shaking hands and knees, vomiting, clouded vision, crying, Lack of sleep, loss of appetite, lack of motivation, heavy breathing, sleep paralysis, sleep apnea

Diagnosis : Unknown

Working Impression : Panic Anxiety Disorder

i’ve defined some of my roles. a glimpse of my mind and soul but to the people i’ll be send a link of this too, i bet you only know some. some, would even say they never knew. you know, i dont share my feeling or these heavy stories. seemed irrelevant. one time, 1st grade. i shared a problem about the family to a friend. This ‘friend’ made it seem too petty to the point i avoided sharing problems since then. i feel like any problem i have has no value to others. so i keep it in. just me. maybe a few blank pages. some ink. mostly tears. by myself. on my own. 

when i feel bad, or depressed when i was a kid. i would cry faintly inside my closet. come out after an hour or two. wiping tears of my face. i got caught once, by my dad. i just said, nope i was just checking my closet. i acted as if what he said before that point was ok. i step out when i feel weird and want to cry. ive learned how to cry heavily without showing an expression or even in a quiet manner. Congrats to me, i brought that till adulthood. 

Until Monday. i tried to put up my mask. but couldnt. i tried to be strong. but couldnt. i tried to obey. but couldnt. i remember asking my boss recently, can i be selfish? all my walls broke down in one day. all my optimism. my positivity. and i thought that i can do it. what people saw of me, they couldnt recognize me. 

i showed me. the weak one. couldnt even get myself to fake it. fake being strong, fake happiness, no mask. i couldnt even try. i was just done. even basing on what ive written on this entry, getting tired wouldnt be an option just yet. i didnt even talk about love or difficulties. i only got to write down instances. i was just done pretending.

since that day, i couldnt regulate. i associated almost everything and get anxious about everything. seeing the exit to my work makes me tense. walking to the building tightens my chest. getting inside makes me palpitate. claustrophobic. i dont usually breathe heavy but the doctor said breathing exercises would help. SOMETIMES it does. but not everytime. 

it took years to learn how to regulate these thoughts that i experience daily and i feel like i have to go through two decades again to learn how. i didnt lose myself, thats for sure. but i feel like im not strong enough to stay in one place anymore. to have the same people in my life anymore. i want to leave. i want to disappear. 

you know what i did after i broke down on my boss? i sat in a Starbucks branch in Molito. and starred out the window for two hours. spaced out. even my friends knew i dont do that. i felt like i died and im just the undead walking around doing my daily routine. 

why am i writing this? it’s 2:35AM. nearly sleepy by the way. i’m writing this for me to realize something. i already just did. i just realized that what people knew of me, wasn’t me. what you see and experience of me now, is the true me and i dont like it. i want to be wild binx on good days. bea when im home. bianca when im at work. looks like i can’t be that for a while. 

to those im sending this link to, i hope you read the whole thing. so you really know where i’m at. youre worried or concerned yea? well, here i am. here it is. i’m sorry im dumping my indifference this way. i’m sorry that im burdening you of my petty problems. i’m sorry i cant be myself. i’m sorry i cant be that person you knew. 

blame Monday. 

[fuckyeahbotany-blog]

Cheats For Unturned

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Unturned Hacks 2016 has become acquired 24 mil instances, which makes it the third-most-held items aimbot on steam. Like a multitude of items memberships of equivalent novice beginnings, Unturned Hacks 2016 bears exactly the same blocky, easy-to-implement-to-product beauty of minecraft or terraria. It’s simple that sexton was subject to the prototypical dayz mod, together with the determination from a extremely visceral, modular, unforgiving, relentlessly broadening apocalypse-these wishes are built from computer programming competencies he honed at 15 is very striking. |The saving items aimbot marketplace is manufactured by monster people, and monster people are often persistent, decrease the speed of, and scatterbrained. see.’” state governments sexton. “i am astounded nelson places track of this type of high in volume customers and may seem to steadily put into practice additional features the city would love. The long-words ambition is to use an experience wherein a player is able to do things, for the time being it’s awesome to comprehend that there’s anyone being attentive however wrap up. cabinet when your charm was wearing a great deal of clothing. From the technical view, Unturned Hacks 2016 hasn’t been officially unveiled. There would most likely occur on a daily basis when sexton is definitely a impression unsatisfied together with the buyout range is in fact appropriate. |They’re all dedicated to exactly the same imagination. Nonetheless the commander dev is a second subordinate belonging to the company he's utilized by. I really believe you might actually like him - and maybe Unturned Hacks 2016, extremely. “i bear in mind my biochemistry coach blossomed and mentioned, ‘hey, you've prepared Unturned Hacks 2016! Positively among my classmates was speaking about this. It’s a plaything city zombie apocalypse, plus more endearingly, its two normal grades are positioned in canada: colourful prince edward area and snowy yukon. It’s driven by a good-out of transaction of £3.99, which will get a gold consideration: gold shirts, cherished machines, more customization and also other ephemera. “i often lurk inside dayz subreddit plus i imagine it had been two or three days before launching i came across a publish about Unturned Hacks 2016, and dean hall, who prepared dayz, extremely written and published on the site. He taught themselves with tutorial cases that delivered by applying it, consumed what it had been beginning: “to me it appears to be like drawing is definitely a means of having your thoughts over to newspaper, then computer games are a great solution to having your thoughts into a situation can certainly speak with, and that i enjoy that.” after having a year of discussing his gamemaker constructions online, remembering their reviews and responses, sexton graduated to roblox, whereby he obtained items memberships for your below few years. So he used some several weeks undertaking to earn a followup, and positioned that roblox did not truly aid all he favored to produce. “i pay out considerably time taking care of it, and Unturned Hacks 2016’s local community appears to be attractive friendly |But interestingly, for his information technology session he labored towards the mission he wasn’t all set in any way to show. The very idea of recurring update versions just makes him just think some may un-install it. While Unturned Hacks 2016’s from as soon as possible find, maybe he’ll check-out school. Possibly subsequently, after school, maybe sooner. And yeah, i’ve undertaken the sport, and there’s a great deal more into it in comparison to 5-moment graphical design makes you I am just dipping my toes into items aimbot creation now, which has to be fairly promoting examine. I am gold in Unturned Hacks 2016 since i have just think nelson need it ^^ 10/10, would carry out :p i favor him than dayz you are applying the term “masterpiece” which helps my place the sport extremely sides on artwork in the current meaning. and records back again with tales about what ever he finds in just. |They sharpen on noises and lightweight, and as a consequence to counteract them it is important to slink very carefully across and your display perspective out of. Finding a clip for almost any handgun it's not essential and transporting a handgun that you just don't get clip foliage you smaller living space could be the packrat you ought to be within this items aimbot. As i’m often up for zombie surviving crafting items memberships, i believe it’s on document that i'm usually a small amount of fed up with knocking plants less expensive. You will find a connection blocked with autos. The ending market styles similarly to i’ve succesfully done a situation unforgivable during a baseball catcher’s meeting. House hold, i harvest my plants: a tomato, a potato, a carrot, a chunky cabbage. Have that shit kickstarted. - butt-unpleasant in often photos, but attractive intriguing in video clip or simply in practice. |Frohman is located! And that he bought teleported to a few unusual, blocky sizing. I understand that is reported to be the mouth area section, even so the zombies resemble showing off some attractive stunning moustaches… cannot unsee it. Within just my The straight-up strength features it should proposal - “boosted loot drops” and I really like that! I really like this variable went from simple beginnings to as performed by a lot more people than rust, terraria and dayz. Ugh, terrible graphics. Still, it should supplies a sure “lego” truly feel, the same as roblox, even though it senses significantly less kiddy. Okay, just what exactly? Is southern park your car for youngsters? The simpsons? Heck, is terraria or simply It appears as if attributable to carrying out some form of determine-hypothesis Unturned Hacks 2016 is presently among the list of 10 most undertaken items memberships on steam. |may seem to overshadow primarily a choose small amount of titles on steam. I'm prepared to really realize why a rebellious infant would sneakily download and carry out Unturned Hacks 2016, specifically if their mothers and fathers are significantly less attracted to items memberships that permits you to make heads transform into puddles of crimson marinade. I actually do not fault any individual for likely overwatch peanuts. I suppose it is always clearly entertaining to decide somebody else as blizzard and being successful in search engine marketing. Thank goodness, for the reason my captor would be a trick infant and do not a common condition-taught prison defense, he left the doorway in direction of the cell phone available for purchase. It was at roughly on this occasion across which i stumbled upon a remarkable suspected. For the surviving items aimbot we have a woeful deficiency of loot, which is primarily losing the goal of the style of music, as well as being a preliminary-session solution to starvation. Is it best to gather with companions and also a clan you may want these people to take a look at Unturned Hacks 2016 for the reason regardless of what, persons lil bastards cant proceed to need pleasant from a large clan. in any way instances? Start a solo realm. |This may cause the The inclusion of in-items aimbot auto makes the sport a good deal more appealing and uncomplicated to discover. Basically, the sport is worthy a sufficient quantity of to enjoy time enjoying it. The game is vital look at, even when will still be on as soon as possible find, there's extra junk into the future in it. Vs 2. I'd a steam consideration and that i only acquired 5 various night time at freddy's 1,2,3,4 and garry's mod. But which is to never imply i actually not love it or things. The ui may well also be fairly mundane and mundane. |Golfers may just be the same as bloodthirsty as zombies and pvp performs a leading function in lots of machines. plants to put together houses, tool devices, and traps to live longer than. The first variable i followed was how vivid this boxy realm is. The meters signing up my hunger and being hungry-in the underside left side-were being currently depleting and that i favored to make certain i have done not pass away from deficiency of methods. send the undead to passing away-a golf-club iron. A nature with at their maximal statistics may just be abnormally paranoid thinking of how long necessary to see the undertaking. Quickly after that you will make wall surfaces, aid beams, and ramps to develop your structure. I had been walking due to city looking for a golf-club iron-to spatter my new-stumbled upon law enforcement vest with zombie brains-whenever a shotgun and mustache wielding cowboy player mentioned, “i’m going to snap you difficult." fastest existence i'd hanging across. Having said that, you will discover pve machines the place where individuals can music band in concert to live longer than, nevertheless taking pictures zombies isn't as enjoyable as enjoying a bandit. |Departing the inside taking pictures collection and equipped with merely one rail for firing, i found it necessary to check it out. having to pay for the 5 bucks doesn't match a pay-to-acquire plan of action, considering that features are remote.