#i’m a rational person i know food is important and i feel hunger and when i do i want to eat

[transmechanicus]

Woke up from my little power outage nap and couldn’t even manage to eat a full box of macked cheese, grad school will fuck you up for life kids, do it at your own risk.

[wednak]

Weddud Wednesday #2: BEWARE THE E-WORD

I’m sorry but there is no way I could have continued without addressing the e-word first. We can use toxic masculinityese and say “who you are as a man” or call them biological instincts or subconscious cues or whatever makes you feel comfortable (I’m mostly joking here ofc, I know you understand their importance) but there is no way around talking about emotions. 

And that’s exactly what we’re doing today. Buckle in weddud, I know you’re gonna absolutely love reading this one (lol).

So what exactly are emotions?

To start with, I first want to talk about what emotions are NOT. Because honestly, in today’s environment that seems almost as important as talking about what they are.

Emotions are NOT emotional reactions.

When people say things like “oh, that person is so emotional” or “Ahh, she has her period, that’s why she’s being so emotional again” what we usually mean is a person who is being erratic, irritable or irrational in a way that doesn’t align with logic or reason.

Those are not emotions.

When we say that men shouldn’t be “emotional”, it usually comes from a place where we expect men to be clear-headed and rational, not erratic or irrational. But this has absolutely nothing to do with “emotions” themselves. Why?

Emotions are generally understood to function something like this:

External stimuli > Subjective experience of said stimuli > physiological response of the body > behavioral reaction to the physiological response

Okay. What does that show us?

There is a space between the emotion you experience in your body and the behavioral reaction you have TO the emotion. The thing that makes us human is that we have the ability to CHOOSE how we behave and react to our environment and the stimuli around us.

That means that there is, by definition, a difference between an emotion (or in this case we might call it a feeling in the body) you have as a result of something/someone and “emotional behavior” as we usually describe it in society.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s take a closer dive into why nature designed us to have said emotions in the first place.

If we look at bodily sensations as a whole, it’s fairly easy to comprehend that sensations are guides that encourage us to behave and respond in ways that increase chances of survival (of ourselves and the species) and decrease chance of death.

You put your hand into fire, it hurts, you don’t do it again, you don’t burn and don’t die. Standard example.

Our body is full of these kinds of cues - food tastes good, water is refreshing, sleep is a relief, orgasms feel amazing, movement makes you feel euphoric. By nature, we are designed to feel great when we do things that are good for us and feel bad when we do things that are bad.

When it comes to many of our biological needs, this cause and effect relationship is fairly straightforward. You feel hunger, you eat and then you feel satiated. You feel horny, you have sex, you feel satisfied. Your hand hurts when you hold it in fire, you pull your hand away, you don’t do it again. You eat something poisonous, you puke for 4 hours, you don’t eat it again.

But it’s trickier with the bodily sensations we call emotions or feelings. Because what emotions do is guide us for biological needs that are more subtle than just “food, sleep, sex” which are fairly simple to navigate.

In short, all animals (mostly humans and mammals but actually almost all living beings) have two distinct behavioral drives that are designed to keep us alive: attachment and authenticity (sometimes also called individuality or independence).

When we are born, humans are utterly helpless. Significantly more so than any other species of mammal. We entirely rely on our caregivers to ensure our survival and so we are biologically wired to attach to them and behave in a way that encourages reliable care. Aka why being connected to others feels good.

It isn’t just babies and children who need attachment either. Adults need to attach to children because that’s how their offspring have a realistic chance of survival. That is why we have evolved to feel parental love.

Women need to attach to men because they can help their chance of survival and men need to attach to women because they help their chance of survival too. That is why we have evolved to feel romantic love.

Adults generally need to attach to other adults, form groups and tribes and societies because as a whole, it increases our chance of survival. That’s why we have evolved to enjoy having friendships and why we feel good when we have a community, a tribe or a nation to be a part of.

All of these things are good for us and so when we engage in behaviors that increase these attachments, our body responds with physiological reactions that feel nice.

Of course, there is a flip side because life is nothing if not balanced. 

We all know you can’t have too much of a good thing without it becoming bad.

Because what we also need is to become an independent, authentic individual that can function reliably on its own, without being dependent on others for its survival.

So no matter how nice and important it is to be taken care of and protected by other people, we also have to be able to separate ourselves from others so we can take care of ourselves.

This is why humans love learning new skills, why it feels great when we learn to walk or talk or read or ride a bike. Why we have a deep instinct that pushes us to grow and to try things for ourselves and why we feel really proud of ourselves when we’ve accomplished something new.

(Side note: watching the joy and pride that young children feel when they push themselves to try new things and acquire a new skill that was inaccessible to them before is literally one of the most satisfying things I’ve ever experienced. Which actually only reinforces what I’m saying which is that even adults are wired to feel positive emotions when children learn to become independent, that’s how important the drive is)

And the flip side of this is that when we are pushed into relationships or situations where we are required to give up our individuality, when we become powerless and can’t express our authentic self with the people around us without feeling like it would harm us in some way - what happens? Exactly! We feel negative emotions and those negative emotions don’t just happen for no reason.

They happen because they are discouraging us from continuing to engage in a behavior that is bad for us. They signal to us that we are doing something that isn’t in our own best interest and show us what we can change in order to optimize our life for higher chances of survival.

Too attached to people > negative emotion > isolate yourself to become more independent 

Too independent > negative emotion > attach to others to become more connected 

Right amount of either of the two? > positive emotions > ideal circumstances for survival 

____

So what’s the moral of the story for today? 

Emotions aren’t a lifestyle choice or a gendered behavioral adaptations (although it is very interesting to explore the biological differences in the experience of emotions between men and women because I do think you could maybe make the case that there are differences).

Emotions are a biologically necessary function that signal to living beings how to behave and how not to behave in order to live optimally. Emotions are the rewards (or punishments) our brain gives us when we act out certain behaviors that are good for us (or bad for us).

Modern humans think that our consciousness is becoming so increasingly powerful that we can rationally make the best decisions and choose what is right from wrong. Now, there is a time and place to be rational and use conscious decision making over instinctive behaviors. If there wasn’t we would never have gotten to where we are as a society today.

But as with anything (oh how could it ever be any different) - the key is that there needs to be balance. We may be too evolved to rely on instincts and emotions alone, but that doesn’t mean that they aren’t powerful guides that can help us on the journey of figuring out how to live happy, meaningful, authentic yet connected lives that prevent just enough pain as would be good for us.

I hope maybe that in the face of all of this, we can see that perpetuating a culture in which emotions are seen as something bad that needs to be suppressed is (not the only!) but a huge factor in the crisis of despair and suffering that most people (especially men) are facing.

Okay, this is where I was going to dive into why emotional suppression is so harmful but I think I’m gonna just let you ruminate on the importance of emotions for now. Better stay tuned for next week’s episode where we’ll look at EMOTIONS GONE AWRY!

I will, however, leave you with this beautifully life-changing thought to ponder:

If we look at all emotions in the context of their function of helping us live a “optimal” life - then isn’t our distinction between good and bad emotions entirely arbitrary?

Regardless of its bodily manifestation, is every emotion (even sadness, fear, despair, rage, loneliness, etc.) actually a GOOD emotion in the sense that it is useful and serves its function to keep us alive and healthy?

And to that, I only have one answer ...

YOUR DOG DIED? 

GOOD!

(I couldn’t not do it)

Non refert ubi es, ego semper est tecum

Nn

[ohgodmyeyes]

A Semiliquid Mixture of Insoluble Particulate Matter

"You really shouldn't trouble yourself like this."

"It isn't any trouble— not when the food has already arrived."

"...You do know it feels a bit strange, don't you? To have you just sit there and watch me eat?"

"I apologize, but I'm afraid watching is the very best I can do."

With a shake of your head, you looked down at your soup— a thin, rueful smile spreading across your face.

"If you can digest your vita-paste," you offered, trying not to sound too trite, "then surely you can tolerate just a few mouthfuls of leek broth?"

The soup was only the first course, but you knew that it was also likely to be the most palatable to Lord Vader and his body. If you had any hope at all of convincing him to share part of your meal with you tonight, you were certain it resided with the warm, creamy mixture of mild onions and boiled potatoes sitting in the pot upon the table between you.

Vader, being the gentleman that he was, had already filled your bowl... yours, but not his own.

"You'd like me to 'tolerate' the soup for you?" he asked, unabashedly false in his own incredulity as he ventured to mirror your sad little smile. (It was awfully kind of him, you thought, to have engineered a space in which the two of you could dine in the absence of his mask.)

"Yes," you answered, glancing up from your dish and into his eyes instead. "Yes, that's exactly what I'd like you to do."

Darth Vader wasn't incapable of processing solid food so much as he was unaccustomed to it: More often than not, he simply chose not to bother; preferring, instead, to suck on tubes of vita paste whenever he found himself stricken by hunger. Given his unique physical condition, you supposed you understood the inclination; however, your understanding never had been enough to glean your approval.

In truth, you couldn't help disdaining the pride he'd always seemed to take in his rejection of real food— as far as you were concerned, the stark inhumanity of it simply didn't suit him.

"You're cruel to me," he said, flashing you the barest hint of his very best grin, and reaching with a wholly-manufactured air of gravity for his own empty bowl. "If I didn't know better," he added, as he tentatively ladled into it the smallest quantity of soup he knew he could without drawing your ire, "I might think you enjoyed the spectacle of my suffering."

"You'll hardly 'suffer'," you smiled. "If you want to know the truth, I actually think it might be good for you to have something real in your system— something besides that awful slurry of yours."

"My vita-paste isn't a 'slurry', it's a—"

"It's a slurry by definition!" you interrupted with a laugh, exactly as unafraid of cutting him off as you were of the way he was now leering down his nose at you from across the table.

While another person might have interpreted the expression on his face less charitably, you knew better than to doubt him, even as he seemed to glare: Lord Vader was always kind to you; on nights like this one, he was often even kinder than usual. To have found something more palatable to offer you than the bland Imperial rations and other processed foods common within the walls of his fortress never failed to make him happy, and this evening's meal seemed no exception.

Here on Mustafar— a barren wasteland, even by the most generous standards— just about all of the food had to be imported. The planet's harsh climate meant that nothing could be raised, grown or foraged on its surface; even the small selection of plants that resided in the tiny indoor garden Vader had helped you to cultivate over the years were frustratingly susceptible to the sheer dryness of the heat.

Your existence itself being a closely-guarded secret, the feat of ordering something 'nice' (something like leek soup, for example) could only be accomplished under the guise of a hosting a more officially-sanctioned gathering— usually of Moffs or politicians or foreign dignitaries.

Lord Vader, of course, loathed to entertain such people at his private residence, but once in a while, he would do it anyway... even when it wasn't strictly required of him.

He said it was worth the discomfort, for the sake of enjoying a meal with you.

"A 'slurry'," he argued, "is a semiliquid mixture of insoluble particulate matter."

You laughed again; you couldn't help it. "What is vita-paste, if not that?"

"Vita-paste is quite soluble," he sniffed. "If you'd only give it a fairer chance..."

He may have been half-joking (you could always tell), but the mere thought of 'giving it a fairer chance' still made you shudder. You almost winced too, although your smile didn't fade.

"I think I'll keep on passing," you told him kindly. "It's more than worth putting up with the rations for a while, knowing I have an evening or two like this to look forward to."

"...I'm not sure why these nights still mean so much to you after all these years," he admitted quietly, casting his gaze back down into his soup, "but I certainly am glad that they do." Finally picking up a spoon from the table and using it to prod tentatively at the surface of his broth, he added as if to shift the subject, "...I did tell you that even this arrived at the kitchen frozen in a block, didn't I? And it happens to be far less 'soluble' than my vita-paste, so long as we're debating what does or does not constitute a 'slurry'."

"Meeting the technical definition of a 'slurry' doesn't preclude it from tasting better than raw vegetable oil and fake strawberries."

"The strawberries are listed as an ingredient on the bag," he countered irreverently. "They aren't fake."

"Strawberry extract is listed as an ingredient on the bag," you corrected him.

For a long moment after that, a thick and heavy silence hung between you in the air.

...And then, of course, you both laughed.

For all its sharp edges and halting raspiness, there was no sound in the entire galaxy as beautiful to you as Darth Vader's laugh; not only because of its charming tenor, but because of what you knew it meant for you to be allowed to hear it.

Once calm, he cleared his throat— only to make a point of plunging his spoon deep into his bowl, and extracting from its depths a respectably-sized mouthful of soup: Potatoes, leeks, and all.

It was obviously meant to impress you, and it did.

"How is it?" you asked, watching with disproportionate intent as he slid the utensil between his lips. You hoped not to betray how much you relished getting to pose the question; it wasn't often that Vader tasted anything he had shipped here for you, let alone tasted it first. More commonly, it was you who ended up mired in thought; trying, in vain, to come up with some way to adequately describe it to him: Not always an easy task, considering how very little he himself wanted to do with food.

Admittedly, there was something undeniably satisfying about watching Vader purse his lips, and struggle to summon his words.

"Adequate," he answered, as though evaluating the performance of a maintenance droid. "The soup is adequate."

"You can do better than that!" you scolded him. How long had it been since he'd last eaten? You could hardly remember.

It seemed to be all he could do not to roll his eyes at you... but he did also concede to your rebuke, dipping his spoon back into the bowl to try it once again.

"...Earthy," he offered, this time after a very long pause.

"'Earthy?'" you asked back at him, with a curious tilt of your head.

"Like my mother's mushroom terrine," he clarified, although his voice caught a bit in his throat, taking on a faraway quality as he spoke. "It had onions in it, too... and sometimes cream, from the banthas."

At that, you did him the courtesy of looking away from his face. Not unlike the food you so often tried to get him to taste alongside you, your staring at him was something Vader tended to tolerate more than he actually appreciated it.

"That sounds lovely," you murmured, reflecting briefly on the little glimpse into his childhood he'd just granted you while you poked at your own bowl with your spoon. The motion prompted a delicious-smelling little puff of steam.

"It was," he agreed, "and so is this— you should try it, too."

You balked at his nonchalance. To your recollection, Vader had never implored you to try anything before; nothing, anyway, besides his precious strawberry vita paste. It was only a small thing, but for a split second, it was enough to make you feel as though your entire existence together had been inverted.

"...I think you're right," you agreed— and in spite of how he'd just flummoxed you, you did.

It was precisely as lovely as he had described.

Vader ate with predictable slowness, and didn't partake in either the second or third courses laid out by his droids (a cabbage-based salad sprinkled with something akin to dried cranberries; and a roasted bloggins' breast paired with seared root vegetables, respectively); however, he did manage to surprise you once more— this time, by finishing his soup.

You managed to catch a glimpse of him as he lifted his bowl to his lips; with his eyes cast down and the rim to his mouth, he almost could have looked like another person altogether.

Kind enough not to react when he realized you'd been staring yet again, he merely set the dish back down on the table, and began to move to stand up.

You just watched, entranced as always, as his cape fluttered in the air, and his pauldron glinted in the light: Because no matter how many times you had cause to see Lord Vader rise to his feet or circumvent a table (or do just about anything else, for that matter), the sheer majesty of his body in motion never, ever seemed to be lost on you.

"Shall we retire?" he asked, as the hypnotic tapping of his boots ceased and he extended his hand out toward you.

"...Yes," you answered belatedly. A familiar, tingling heat crept up from your chest and flooded your face when you grasped him around his fingers, letting him help you stand. "Yes, I think we should."

As you placed your arm around his waist (it was as much to steady yourself as it was to display your affection; even after all these years, Lord Vader was still in the habit of making your knees feel weak), it occurred to you that you should ask him how he was feeling, now— following his adventure with the leek broth.

"The soup," you said, with a quick glance back over your shoulder at the table. "It hasn't made you feel sick, has it?"

"On the contrary," he confessed, apparently unable to keep from chuckling at himself. "It was delightful; I'm glad you had me try it."

As the two of you began to walk, you looked down at your own hand— still resting securely in the cool, dark cradle of his glove.

Thank you, you said to him, harnessing the power of your mind to express your gratitude because you knew he would appreciate it. For the soup; for the bloggin. For everything.

Think nothing of it, my love, he answered in-kind, his own internal voice betraying not a hint of the pain or tension of the one he needed to force, physically, up and out of his lungs. You already know I'd do anything for you.

[sithsecrets]

sacrifice | din djarin x reader

stranded in the tatooine desert, din and his crewmember (lover? girlfriend?) must make the long, impossible journey back to mos espa on foot.

---

4.2k words

mentions: near-death experiences, severe sunburn, sever dehydration, emotional conversations with a loved one, reader and din are not doing well at all, lots of talking about sand and the desert, minor medical procedures (kind of??)

this is part 4 of my valentine’s week special! you can see all the other parts here!

---

The deserts of Tatooine are legendary, the sandy dunes and rocky canyons teeming with tales and myths. The Tuskens are a spectacle all their own, with their banthas and covered bodies, and there’s not one person on this planet that hasn’t had the displeasure of doing business with a Jawa. Countless greats have passed through this planet’s cities, negotiating deals and perpetrating plots that will have an affect on the galaxy for years to come.

To you, though, Tatooine is not some great, propped up location from a fairytale. No, this place is your home, or was your home until you made the decision to leave. You were born here, and now you will die here, sucking in the same hot, dry air you breathed on your first day of life as you take your final breath.

Din had promised that it would be a quick mission, in and out. Mando lets you call him that now, lets you call him by his first name. He whispered it to you just a few days ago, revealing this piece of his identity in the darkness of the Crest’s hull. What you wouldn’t give to be there now, cool and fed and sprawled out naked beside him…

Din had said it would be a quick mission, that’s what he said. Just you and him on a pair of speeders out in the desserts, in and out and easy. He needed you to watch his back, wanted you to do surveillance from up high— that’s why you came in the first place. Peli said she’d keep the baby, she was thrilled to have him for a day or two, and so it wasn’t a problem—

The baby, oh Maker… Who’s going to take care of the baby?

Things didn’t go to plan once you left the city, not at all. One speeder went dead halfway to Din’s coordinates, and so you the two of you were left with one vehicle. You made it alright, though your time was worse with both of you weighing down the machine.

It was hot out there, so hot, but you knew it would be that way. You had water in your pack, and some food, and you’d be fine. It was only supposed to be a day or two, right? And the suns would set eventually, and then you might even be cold...

Din made you perch high up on some rock, and you watched for hours through the binocs looking for the quarries. Two spice smugglers, that’s who Din’d been tasked with finding, and they were supposed to be stupid, too— that’s what Greef had said. “These two clowns are idiots.”

The two smugglers did come, and they were idiots as promised, but their friend was not. The third man found your lookout spot somehow, and he snuck up on you. Din was down in the sand, and before he had time to fly up and stop him, the man had already cut your side. It was meant to be a stab, but you avoided that, thank the stars. Even still, the wound was no minor scrape, and you panicked when you saw just how much blood was coming out of you.

Being who he is, it didn’t take Din long to subdue your attacker and the two quarries. He propped their bodies in a cave and said he’d come back for them with the ship later on, and you thought that was a fine idea at the time.

A bad feeling set in when you saw what had been done to you and Din’s singular speeder. One of the smugglers had disabled it while Din was busy murdering the man that hurt you, and now it lay useless in the sand. The crew of criminals had been riding on some kind of pack animals when the violence broke out, and all the commotion sent the three of them off in all directions. Din’s jetpack seemed like a viable option, but the instant he tried to pick you up, you screamed in pain. There was no way for him to hold you that didn’t hurt you terribly, and it’s not like you could latch onto his back. After that conversation, it took you and Din about five seconds to realize that you were fucked. And then… And then it was time to start walking.

The first day wasn’t bad, but it certainly wasn’t good either. The rationing of water began almost immediately, and you worried every time Din declined his share.

“You need it more,” he had said to you, “you’re hurt.”

And you were hurt. Your side smarted all the time, and the heat of the sun caked your own fluids to your skin. The bleeding did eventually stop, but the pain never subsided, and it wasn’t long before you were trailing behind.

When the suns set, it was time to stop walking and start shivering. Din made a small fire, and you did have an extra shirt, but none of it was enough with the damage you’d sustained earlier in the day. Sleep did come, but it was fitful, and you’re not sure Din so much as closed his eyes that night.

The heat came back with the dawn, and after several hours, it was all you could do to keep moving. Thirst burned your throat, and the dull ache of hunger twisted your insides. Din acted like he was fine, but you saw it. You saw the change in his gait, saw how his head drooped from time to time under the weight of exhaustion.

That second night, you insisted Din sleep while you took watch. It as hard to stay awake, and even harder to focus on looking for threats, but you did it anyway. You’d known many people who got lost in the dunes, heard more stories than you could count of what happens when you perish out in the sand. And as you sat there staring into the distance, you marveled at the idea that you yourself would soon come to experience these things yourself.

This will be your third day of walking, walking and walking and walking… You and Din have been making your way across the desert for hours now, and you’re growing more tired than you’ve ever been in your life. Gone is the ache in your stomach, gone is the burn in your throat— all you want now is rest, rest and reprieve from the sun’s relentless rays. Yesterday, you took to imagining yourself anywhere but here— tropical locations, the icy surface of Hoth, a planet where fresh, drinkable water fills every pond and lake and river— now, though, all you picture is rest. Oh, if you could just rest…

It takes you a long time to realize that you’ve fallen, longer than it should. You’re face down on the ground, sand filling your mouth, your nose… The granules aggravate the sunburn you’ve developed after days and days exposed to the elements, though you hardly even feel the sting as you lie there. It’s so good to stop walking, so good to close your eyes…

“Stay awake, cyar’ika. You can’t go to sleep, not right now.”

Din’s voice rouses you, it makes you pay attention again. He’s picking you up, he’s holding you in his arms—

“I don’t want to walk anymore, Din,” you say, voice cracked and broken. Once again, you think of water, but the thought is fleeting at best.

“You don’t have to,” he says at once. “I’ll carry you. We just have to get back, mesh’la, and then we’ll be okay.”

In some deep recess of your mind, you decide that Din’s saying this to comfort himself as well as you.

“You’ll get back to Mos Espa,” you croak, shaking your head. “This is— I’m not going to make it.”

“Yes, you are, cyar’ika, don’t talk like that.” Din spits the words out as if you’ve insulted him, half offended and half terrified and entirely unlike himself. Some small part of you wants to laugh— you’ve always wanted him to be freer with his emotions, and all it took was being marooned in the desert to get him to do it.

“You have to leave me, Din,” you insist, wriggling in his arms, trying to make him drop you. But Din holds fast, clamping down on your body like you’re all that tethers him to this world. And maybe you are, at this point. “I’m slowing you down. If neither of us gets back, we’ll— The baby, Din, the baby. You have to go back for the baby. You’re all he has, he’ll… he’ll…”

You want to cry, but your body has no tears to offer you. Through the fog in your mind, you picture the Child playing with Peli and her droids, waiting patiently for you and his father to return. The thought of how he’ll feel when the both of you never do is almost too much to bear, and you redouble your efforts, pleading.

“Leave me, Din, leave me here so you can go on. I’ve been slowing you down since the start, and now— The Child needs you. I’m not important, Din, but you’re his father. Just put me down and let me—”

“Stop talking,” Din cuts, exhaustion and frustration warping his broken voice. “Save you energy, mesh’la, we’re almost there.”

Except you aren’t, and you know that. But even still, you do as Din says, too tired to argue with him any further.

There is more walking, and more feeling the sun on your face, and then your eyes are slipping closed. Far off in the distance, Din is telling you to look at him, to stay awake but you just can’t anymore. It’s so hot, and you just want to sleep…

The last thing you see before you fall unconscious is the sun, bright and blinding and all-consuming above you.

---

No one is more surprised than you when you open your eyes again.

Beige is all you see in front of you, beige like the color of the dunes. For one fleeting moment, you think you’ve died, that this is all there is for someone who’s succumb to the desert— the sand has swallowed you whole, and now you’ll lie here under it for all of eternity. But then everything comes into focus, and the fog lifts from your mind. Sand dunes aren’t held up by supports, and they certainly don’t billow in the breeze.

A tent, you say to yourself, dizzy as you try to sit up, I’m in a tent.

Someone’s attended to your wound, bandages and dressings where dirt and blood should be on your side. It still smarts when you try to stand, but you find yourself stronger overall. Somehow, someway, you’ve been revived, and even your sunburn doesn’t seem as bad as you know that it should be when you reach up to touch your face.

Carpets keep the sand off, three or four strewn on the ground in a patchwork. You’ve been laid out to rest on some sort of makeshift bed as well, nothing more than couple of pads and a blanket under your back, and not for the first time do you wonder where you are. Not for the first time do you wonder where Din is…

Heat envelopes you the second you pull back the flaps of the tent, but the temperature isn’t as high as it was when you collapsed. Sure enough, one look at the horizon tells you that it’s sunset, the sky purple-orange-pink as Tatoonie’s twin suns sink down further and further.

All around you are tents just like the one you emerged from, simple, beige structures made of coarse, thick fabric. You begin weaving your way through the complex, too afraid to cry out and ask for help. In any case, you’re not sure it would help, for you feel eerily alone, almost like everything around you is empty. That’s why it’s such a shock when someone jerks on your arm, the action catching you so off-guard that you cry out.

Cold fear is all you feel when you come to face the man that grabbed you, the dark eyes of his mask almost boring into you as he shouts and kicks up a fuss. You wait to be hurt, wait to be struck down and murdered, for you know how the Tuskens feel about outsiders, but the violence never comes. No, the man is actually leading you further into the camp, pulling on your arm, gesturing to more tents and beyond. The sounds he makes mean nothing to you, but if you could understand, you’re sure you’d hear, “Come with me, come on!”

And what else can you do except follow the Raider? What other choice do you have? He leads you past three or four more dwellings, and then the two of you stand before a larger, grander tent, one that makes the others look almost tiny. The Tusken calls out to whoever’s inside before you can so much as catch your breath, and then you’re being jerked through the flaps without a word of warning.

The first thing you see is fire, the smoke from the little blaze escaping out of an opening in the top of a tent. Small lanterns light the space inside, everything bathed in a warm, orange glow. There are carpets on the ground just like in your tent, layers and layers of them keeping the sand off everyone inside. Several Tuskens sit around the fire, but you barely see them after you notice the way the light glints off someone else.

When you told Din to leave you, you meant it. The baby couldn’t be orphaned a second time, and the idea of both of you dying under the sun didn’t bear thinking about. But to know that he didn’t abandon you, that he really was going to carry you back to the city…

All conversation ceases the second Din gets up from the ground, and then it’s like the two of you are the only people in the whole fucking desert. He asks you if you’re alright, one hand on the side of your head as he murmurs through the modulator. You say yes and ask him the same thing, worried something happened after you went out of commission. He’s all armored and covered, face concealed like it has been since the moment you met him, and yet still you worry. You worry he fell down like you did, worry that he’s been sick from not eating and drinking. But if Din did collapse or become incapacitated for a period of time, none of it’s had any lasting effects. He tells you that he’s eaten and drunk plenty since the Tuskens saved both of you, urging you to stop fussing and come sit with him beside the fire.

Only when Din turns around do you remember that you have an audience, and you feel all eyes on you walk around the pit in the center of the room. You feel vulnerable before your hosts, keenly aware of the fact that you stand before them with your face and hair and hands bare. Thankfully, you’re not the only woman present, several veiled Tusken women dotting the circle of people. They’re beautiful in their own way, draped in beads, some of their masks ornately decorated with embroidery and mental embellishments. You know little of Tusken culture, but you think that this is a tent reserved for important members of this clan, for even most of the men have on small bits of finery.

Din keeps you close, uncharacteristically affectionate in front of these strangers. He holds your hand as he leads you to your place in the group, urges you to tuck up against his side by the fire, and you wonder why he’s showing you off so openly. He either trusts these Tuskens, which would be a bold move, or this whole ordeal’s shaken him badly. Either way, you’re not about to complain, relieved to be here with him at all. You really could have died out there in the sand, and the fact that you didn’t is still sort of blowing your mind.

The first thing you do when you get settled is express your gratitude to the Tuskens around you, thanking them sincerely for saving your life and treating your injuries. Din translates for you and the man who speaks next, and then you’re told one of the most incredible stories you’ve ever heard.

For the better part of half an hour, Din and the Tuskens tell you about how they slayed the great krayt dragon, working in tandem with a small group of villagers from the middle of nowhere. Din downplays his role in it all, but you know that he was the one who really took the beast down. That’s why the Tuskens consider him a friend in the first place, and it’s the only reason they saved the both of you— otherwise, they would have let you die, a fact they admit openly.

You reprimand Din for not telling you sooner because seriously, he slayed a krayt dragon and made an alliance with the fucking Tusken Raiders, but all he offers is a humble, almost embarrassed, “It never came up, mesh’la.”

All you can do is huff at that, amazed not for the first time by how casual Din is about everything he does.

After the story’s done, a woman comes into the tent with a tray of thing for you. Because of their customs, the Tuskens won’t eat in front of you, and it’s not like Din’s about to take of his helmet for a meal, but you’re served food regardless. Neither the meat nor the hubba gourds taste very good, but you couldn’t care less— after days without food or water, even the bitter juice tastes like fine wine.

Din and the Tuskens talk as you eat, everything they say completely lost on you as you sit before the fire. Outside, the suns continue to set until it’s dark, and you feel yourself growing tired. You’re not sure if it would be rude to fall asleep in front of the Tuskens, the fear of offending your saviors forcing you to keep your eyes open every time they droop shut. Eventually, though, they take pity on you, and you and Din are given the Tuskens’ blessing to leave.

Back in your own tent, you and Din kneel on the carpets before one another, a single lantern lighting the space above your heads. He looks almost ominous like this, the dim, warm light casting him into shadow while simultaneously glinting off all the angles of his armor. Once again, you find yourself astounded by the fact that the two of you made it, that you’re here in Tusken encampment instead of dead out there in the sand somewhere. More and more often these days so you wish you could see Din’s face, but once again, you just can’t bring yourself to ask for what you want.

“I know you’re tired,” he says, fishing around in your pack until he produces a small jar, “but you have to put more of this on your hands and your face before you go to sleep. That’s what the women told me.”

“Do it for me?” you ask, knowing just how childish you sound without caring one bit about it.

Miracle of miracles, you make the Mandalorian laugh. “You just want me to touch you,” he huffs, but he’s taking his gloves off anyway.

Everything is quiet for those first few minutes, Din bending to his work diligently. The salve in the jar isn’t bacta, but it soothes the burning and the itching almost like magic. And maybe it is some kind of Tusken sorcery. You should be covered in blisters and sores after so much time in but Din says your face is merely peeling when you ask how bad it is. You haven’t actually seen yourself yet, but the backs of your hands don’t lie, and anyway, why would he? The fact that you’re not in debilitating pain alone is enough to convince you that this stuff is a miracle cure, and you’d be content to put it on eight times a day for the next month if it means you won’t be disfigured by your sunburn.

“There,” Din declares softly, putting the lid back on the jar, and then the two of you are lying down on the little pallet bed together.

“Are you going to sleep?” you ask him, knowing how Din feels about resting when he’s not on the Crest.

“Maybe,” he murmurs, reaching out across the padding to hold your hand. “But you definitely should. The Tuskens are going to drop us off near the city tomorrow, and I still have to go back and collect the bodies.”

You’d nearly forgotten about that, about the quarries and how Din left their corpses sitting in the cave.

“We get the baby first, though. We said we’d be back days ago.”

You’re not one to make demands, but after all that’s happened, you need to hold the Child in your arms. You know for a fact that he misses Din, and you worry that he feels abandoned by the both of you after all this time apart.

“We get the baby first,” Din affirms, and only then do you feel like you can close your eyes.

---

Everything is hectic after you and Din finally make it back to Mos Espa. Peli wanted to know what happened, the baby wouldn’t stop clinging to either one of you, and then you still had to fly back out on the Crest and pick up the quarries…

All of that took hours, but now you’re finally back in the safety of hyperspace, your little family whole once again. The Child, after hours of holding fast to you and his father has decided that he’s tired now, dozing in his pram contentedly. You think it would be alright to leave him in the hull for a while, clicking the lid of the little bed shut before you climb up to the cockpit. Din, in his usual Din fashion, has been up here since takeoff, no doubt picking at the inner workings of his vambrace or studying one of those maps he loves so much.

You’re surprised to find Din unusually unoccupied when you make it up there, though, the dark T of his visor staring off in the blue streaks of light before him. For a moment, you think he might be sleeping, but that option’s crossed off the list the minute he turns to look at you.

“Everything alright?” you ask softly, coming around the pilot’s chair to sit beside him.

Din hums. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

A long moment of silence follows your question, everything so definitively quiet around you. It’s always like this in hyperspace, like the physics of sound don’t apply. You always feel like you need to whisper, half-expecting no noise to come out of your mouth whenever you do decide to talk. After all these months of living on the Crest, it’s the only thing you haven’t gotten used to.

“Don’t ever talk to me like that again.”

Din’s words catch you completely off-guard, the sentence striking you across the face as hard as any slap. He’s never spoken to you like that before, never told you not to question him or whatever the fuck he means by that. You don’t—

“I mean—” Din blurts, huffing through the modulator like he’s frustrated. “I mean, just— the way you spoke to me in the desert. The things you said. Don’t ever talk about yourself like that, not in front of me or anybody else.”

Everything clicks, but words fail you. All you can do is sit there before Din and stare at him, trying to find the words over and over again.

“When we were out there,” Din begins, filling the void when you cannot, “when you fell down and I picked you up, you told me to leave you, cyare. You wanted me to abandon you. You told me that you didn’t matter.”

“I wanted you to live,” you clarify. “Someone had to go back for the baby, and you’re his father. He needs you—”

“And he needs you too, mesh’la.” Din pauses, voice breaking when he goes to speak again. “I need you. So don’t ever ask me to do something like that again. You’re very important, more important than you know, and I don’t think I could handle hearing you talk to me like that again. Do you understand?”

You stand up to hug him, suddenly hit with the realization that you’re crying.

“I understand, Din.”

And then you’re holding each other like it’s all you know how to do— holding each other like you’re the only two people in the whole fucking galaxy.

[thicctails]

Summer Of Whump Days 16 + 19 [Touch-Starved/Hope]

Happy Father’s Day! Have toothpick dad figuring out how to get his adike outta space prison.

Crosshair pressed his forehead against the wall of his bunk, gritting his teeth. His head was pounding, the ache radiating from the left side and seeping down through his skull and spreading into the rest of his mind. It had been a steadily building pain, starting when that damn animal had hit him with its tail. He’d dodged going to a medic, instead choosing to spend his free time trying to sleep the migraine off. So far, it hadn’t worked.

 He pulled his pillow over his head when a slight ringing started to form in his ears. The sound grew and grew and grew, until all he could hear was the unyielding, skull-piercing ringing.

 Then, silence.

 Crosshair blinked.

 It was like a huge drop of cold water had been dropped on him, shocking him back to reality. He sat up, running a hand over his face. The guilt and disbelief of his actions had him reeling for a moment. He’d almost killed his vod'ika, would have had Omega not sacrificed herself. He went a little pale at the memory of what state the girl had been in when they’d been picked up. Whatever had happened on that Jedi cruiser, it had been ugly, and he felt a ripple of burning shame rush through him when he thought about how much it must have hurt to stand in front of him like she had.

 He slid off of his bunk, not bothering to grab his helmet. He needed to go see her, make sure her burns were getting properly treated. It had been a day and a half, had anyone gone to change her bandages? Checked in on her? Fed her? Likely not, as he seemed to be the only one here who understood how important it was for her to remain alive and healthy. That was still top priority, but now it was for different reasons.

 He had to get them out of here, back to his vode and out of the Empire’s reach. Omega’s existence was proof that the Kaminoans had successfully managed to create an artificial Force-sensitive being, and the thought of them creating an army of Force-sensitive clones with inhibitor chips sent a chill down his spine.

 No. He’d find a way out of this outpost and off of the planet before they were due to make the trip back to Kamino. He’d have to find a way to get the chip out, maybe go back to Bracca? Then he’d find a way back to his batchmates and they’d disappear. Good. Yes. Great plan.

 Pausing, he stepped behind a wall as a group of troopers marched past. They had come from the direction of the prison cell. He scowled at them silently, fighting the itch to end their lives. He needed to be subtle, cunning, and stealthy, which meant he couldn’t let his temper flare up, lest he risk being discovered.

 Once the coast was clear, he slipped out from behind the wall and approached the room door. He put in the password and stepped inside once the door slid open. His eyes widened upon seeing that someone new had been put into the cell. The kid was tugging at a thick, black collar, a red light blinking rapidly. He jolted suddenly, his muscles spasming as he was electrocuted.

 “Cal!” Omega cried, reaching out to him. Her own collar began to blink rapidly, and she yelped when the same happened to her. Pillow, who was chained against the, was honking loudly, the sound sounding more like short roars now. He was the one to first notice Crosshair, and he snarled at the clone, his tail smashing against the wall. The stone cracked under the force, bits of the wall crumbling away.

 “Shh!” He hissed, putting a finger up to his lips. “Do you want to get into even more trouble?”

 The two children gasped when he spoke, their eyes widening in fear. The boy, named Cal, apparently, glared at Crosshair. He moved in front of Omega, shielding her as best he could. His collar beeped, but not enough to activate the electric shock. Omega peered at him, her large brown eyes wet with unshed tears.

 “Crosshair?” She asked, her voice sounding strained. The collar was probably pressing against her already bruised throat.

 “It’s me, ad’ika.” He said softly, kneeling down. “I’m back, at least for now.”

 Omega brightened, her face splitting into a wide grin. She shuffled forward, but the other kid remained firm. He didn’t move from his spot, and Crosshair could practically feel the anger and mistrust rolling off him in waves.

 “How do we know we can trust you?” He snapped.

 “You don’t, but you’re going to have to.” Crosshair replied. “We need to get out of here. Fast. A transport vessel will be here before the week is out, and we need to be gone before that happens.”

 “Well in case you haven’t noticed,” Cal pointed to the collar on his neck, “we’re kinda trapped here. These collars shock us every time we try and use the Force.”

 “And Pillow is stuck over there!” Omega chimed in, gesturing to where said amphibian was straining against the short chain that was keeping him trapped. “We can’t leave without him!”

 Crosshair hummed, peering at the collars. There was a small slit on each one, a lock that would need a certain key card to open. A key card that he didn’t have.

 “I’ll find a way to get those off. Until then, try to refrain from getting electrocuted.” He said, standing back up.

 A small growl sounded out, and Omega looked at her stomach in embarrassment.

 “Sorry. I haven’t eaten since…” She brought a hand to her chin. “Just over two days ago, I think? The last thing I ate was a ration bar on the ship before we got to Bracca.”

 A memory flashes through his head. He’s young, still learning how to fight, and he and his brothers have failed a test. They end up not being given rations for the day. He remembered it being especially hard on Hunter and Wrecker, who even at that age, burned more calories that the rest of them. He remembered feeling sluggish and unusually weak, his stomach growling like a wild animal as it ate away at itself. They had all felt miserable, and it had served as a good motivator to not fail next time.

 Crosshair growled, the sound reverberating in his chest. “These animals- I’ll be back in a moment. Remain here.” He spun around and stomped back out of the room.

 “We don’t have a choice!” Cal called, huffing when the door simply slid shut. The freckled boy turned to look at Omega. “Do you really trust him?”

 Omega nodded. “He’s not a bad person, he was just being made to do bad things.”

 Cal sighed and gave her a slight smile. “Okay, if you say so.”

    Crosshair returned about a half hour later, a bag slung over his shoulders. He pressed a few buttons on the control panel, locking the door before moving deeper into the room. Omega looked up from her place on the floor, gritting her teeth when as she sat forward. Cal was sat next to her, the two of them having moved over to where Pillow was. The pale creature was sleeping, forced to rest sitting up due to the chain on the wall being attached to his muzzle. Crosshair gave Omega sympathetic look, kneeling down again so that he was closer to being eye level with her and Cal.

 “Okay adike, lets get some food in you so you don’t end up looking like me.” He joked, reaching forward and unlocking their cuffs.

 He reached into the bag and produced two wrapped squares, passing a sandwich to both kids. Omega thanked him excitedly and quickly took the offered food. Cal hesitated, but in the end his hunger won out. He cautiously took the sandwich, softly uttering his thanks. Omega and Cal took a minute to rub their sore wrist while Crosshair carefully unclipped the band around Pillow’s muzzle.

 Pillow’s eyes opened, eyeing Crosshair as he tossed the metal band aside.

“I’ll need to put that back on before I leave, but I’ll try to loosen it.” He said.

 Violet orbs bore into him for a moment, flicking between him and the now ravenously eating children, before Pillow’s head swung towards him. Crosshair flinched a bit, but calmed when Pillow merely rubbed his head against Crosshair’s chest, a deep, rumbling purr sounding out. It seemed that his actions had earned him forgiveness. That would make things easier.

 While Omega finished off her sandwich, he dug into the bag and retrieved a roll of gauze, a container of warm water, a clean cloth, and a container of bacta, setting them down on the floor. He retrieved two bottles of cool water and handed them over to Cal and Omega.

 “Here, drink this. Omega, come here so that I can change your bandages.” He said, grabbing a numbing shot from the bag.

 Omega gulped down her water, cringing when Crosshair stuck her with the needle. After the numbing liquid had set in, he went about unwrapping Omega’s bandages. He sighed in relief upon spotting no signs of infection. With a gentleness that he didn’t know he still possessed, he soaked the cloth in the warm water and cleaned her wound. The skin had already started to scar, and since most of the tissue had been too damaged to regrow, the scar would be rather large. As he gently dabbed the burns, he noticed something odd. Small, circular scars covered Omega’s back, some not even fully finished scarring. They were all the same size, and they were perfectly spaced. It looked as though someone had taken a small cookie cutter to her back.

 Suddenly, he’s back in the medical ward on Kamino. A machine is whirring in his ears and the bright lights overhead are hurting his eyes. A sharp pain erupts from his left shoulder, and he turns to see a chunk of his flesh being sliced out of him. Later that night, he finds out that his vode all went through the same thing. Tech thinks that they want to find out if they’re as enhanced as they we’re designed to be. Apparently, they were, because they weren’t all euthanized within the next few days. Whatever they had been searching for, they’d only needed one sample to find it.

 There had to be dozens on Omega’s back.

 He suppressed a growing roar of rage that was bubbling up from his chest. He’d barely knew Omega, only having those brief moments with her before his chip had been intensified, yet he already knew that he’d kill for her. No child should ever have to endure something like that. He quickly applied the bacta, then re-wrapped Omega’s dressings. Once he was done, he fished another container out of the bag. Unscrewing the lid, he set it down in front of Pillow.

 “It’s food. Eat it.” He commanded.

 Pillow sniffed at the offered container, then started eating, chunks of meat being snapped up and gulped down. Omega laughed when Pillow pulled his face away and revealed that there was a piece of meat stuck on his nose. Cal reached over, plucked the chunk of meat off of the amphibian’s forehead, and tossed it up into the air. In a flash, Pillow snapped his jaws closed around it. He licked his teeth and flopped down next to Crosshair, staring up at him with his big, pleading eyes.

 “No, that’s enough for you. It was hard enough sneaking that amount in here.” Crosshair scolded.

 Pillow moved his head onto Crosshair’s knee, staring sadly at him as he sighed loudly. Crosshair sighed and reached back into the bag. He produced another sandwich and tossed it into Pillow’s open mouth. The white-scaled creature purred loudly and rubbed up against Crosshair, knocking him over onto the floor. He laid his head down on the man’s chest, ignoring Crosshair’s protests.

 “Get off me, you obese salamander!” He yelled, shoving Pillow’s head. Pillow merely snuggled down, rubbing his cheek against Crosshair’s armor.

 “Looks like he wants you to stay.” Cal piped up, taking a sip of his water.

 “Well I can’t. I need to locate the key to those collars so that we can get out of this dump.” Crosshair hissed, finally managing to wiggle out from underneath Pillow.

 “Aw, but you just got here!” Omega said. “Do you have to go right away?”

 “Unfortunately yes. Those troopers out there aren’t the most observant, but even they will notice my absence if I am gone too long.” Crosshair sighed. “Which means I need to put your restraints back on.”

 Cal and Omega groaned, but put their wrists together regardless. Crosshair snapped the cuffs back on, giving the duo an apologetic look.

 “I promise that once we’re out of here, none of you will spend another  minute in shackles.” He said, looking between Pillow, Omega, and Cal. “Now, I have to go. I need to do some stealth work and find out where the key card to your collars is.”

 “Be careful Crosshair.” Omega said, her eyes full of worry.

 He nodded and stood, grabbing the bag and heading out the door.

     It took five days for Crosshair to locate the key card, and another whole day for him to manage to steal it. Throwing his bare essentials into a bag, he slung it over his shoulder and stalked out of the room. The outpost was dark, the electricity out due to a growing storm taking out their generator. He was a predator here, prowling through the shadows, using his superior sight to navigate through the black. He passed troopers as he moved through the outpost, none detecting him over the howling wind and the sound of their own chatter.

 Just as he’s about to reach the outpost’s makeshift prison, he overhears a conversation between two troopers.

 “Is it true? Did they really make a clone that can use the Force?” One asked, leaning in close to his companion.

 “Yeah, but it’s a weird little runty one. Kaminoans must’ve kriffed up while they were making it, I guess.” The trooper sneered. “Little shit’s too cocky for its own good. Hope they put it down once they’re done experimenting on it or whatever.”

 In an instant, a flash of burning hot rage enveloped Crosshair. His hand found a vibroknife that he had stashed away in a hidden pocket. He pounced, gripping the trooper’s head and pulling it back, exposing his neck. The knife’s blade easily sliced through the man’s neck. He made sure that it was deep enough to kill but shallow enough to make it a slower death. While that wretched creature choked on his own blood, Crosshair swung the knife and plunged it through the other trooper’s visor, the sharp point piercing the man’s skull. He jerked the vibroknife free, fresh blood dripping off the blade.

 His anger cooled a bit, and he made his way to the cell door. The door was running on emergency power, and he had to sever that connection to get the doors to open. Inside, he could see the rapidly blinking lights of the two Force suppressant collars, the red glow highlighting the faces of Cal and Omega. Omega’s face was buried in Cal’s chest, the young clone quivering. A clap of thunder rang out, the sound louder than it would be on most planets. It made her squeak in fear, and she shuffled even closer.

 It was so easy to see Hunter in Omega’s place. Back when they were still cadets, his vod had hated the storms on Kamino, his sensitive hearing being battered by the roaring thunder that made itself known every other week or so. So every time there was a storm and they were in their quarters, Crosshair and his vode would take all of their blankets and pillows and they’d create a little hiding spot for Hunter. Once he had curled up in the middle of the makeshift nest, they would cover him up until there was only a small hole left for air.

 Omega had no such luxury. She had no batchmates, a fact that hurt Crosshair on a deeper level, and thus was left to exist in a state of fear. The medical centers were tucked into the middle of Kamino’s bases, so Omega had probably never heard thunder this loud before. He crossed the room quickly, dropping to his knees when he heard Omega’s quiet cries.

 “Come on, adike. It’s time for us to go.” He said, just loud enough to be heard above the fading rumbles. Pausing only to remove their restraints, he slipped tiny the key card into the small slits, ginning when the collars became slack and slid onto the floor.

 In an instant, the two kids were locked in a tight embrace. They were both quivering now, and judging by how their hands were twitching more than the rest of their bodies, he figured that they were both currently using the Force. While they comforted each other, he set about freeing Pillow from his bindings. The amphibian nuzzled him, before starting to nose at his bag.

 “Cut that out. There’s no treats for you in there.” He grumbled, pushing Pillow’s muzzle away. Darting back over to Cal and Omega, he extended a hand.

 “Neither of you will be able to see until we get to the ship, so we’ll need to hold hands. We’ll be moving fast, so try your best to keep up.” He said, grasping Omega’s hand once he saw her reach out to him. With Omega holding on to him, Cal holding on to her, and Pillow bringing up the rear, the group escaped the room, Crosshair leading them out a nearby door and into the raging storm.

 Bitter, biting wind whipped all around them, freezing cold rain drenching their clothes and causing Omega and Cal to slip more than once as they ran across the shipyard. More than once, Pillow had to keep Omega and Cal from getting tossed around by the storm while Crosshair dealt with a trooper or three. Finally, after a good half hour of sneaking and stealth killing, they made it to the ship Crosshair had chosen to steal. He ushered the kids on, wanting them out of the harsh storm. They were soaked to the bone, shivering with chattering teeth as they strapped in. Once everyone was secure, Crosshair fired up the engine, gripping the controls. The storm was so intense that there was a chance that it would mask their take off, but at the same time the fierce lightning that was building within the mass off clouds could send them plummeting down.

 Crosshair gripped the controls tighter.

 He’d get them out of this.

     Crosshair chewed on a toothpick, his eyelids drooping from exhaustion. He’d found them a good hiding place, a heavily forested planet not too many light years from Bracca. He needed to contact his squad, find a way to convince them that he could be trusted once again so that he could get this damnable chip removed. He needed to do a lot of things, but for now he was content to simply take a moment to breathe.

 Omega and Cal were asleep, dressed in uniforms that were far too big but would ultimately keep them warm and dry. The two were sleeping on the floor, a soft cushioning of bunk mattresses and blankets providing a comfortable place to sleep. Omega was half draped over a sprawling Cal, the young clone snuggling up to her friend. She’d fallen asleep easily, and the boy simply hadn’t had the heart to move and risk waking her. So there he lay, snoozing away with Omega holding onto him like her life depended on it.

 A regular person might have been confused by her clinginess, but he understood completely. When clones were very young, they slept in piles with their batchmates. It provided a sense of security, lowered their stress levels, and helped forge an important bond. If your very purpose was to fight in a war with a group of people, you’d better be someone they’d fight to keep alive.

 The Kaminoans had, at one point, tried to see if this behaviour could be stopped. They had forced a batch of clones to sleep apart from their batchmates, only allowing them to train and eat together. By the time they had reached adulthood, they had become noticeably different. They were anti-social, only called each other by their numbers, were completely out of sync in combat training and often acted aggressively. They snapped at each other and at the other clones, distancing themselves from the rest of their vode.

 They’d all died in their first battle. The Kaminoans never tried the experiment again.

 Omega had no batchmates, no vode to form a pile with. He wondered if the Kaminoans had tried to make more and Omega had been the only survivor, or if they simply hadn’t cared because she was never meant to be in a group. It didn’t really matter, he supposed, it wouldn’t change the fact that Omega had been missing out on a crucial part of growing up as a clone. However, it seemed that Omega had found someone to pile with in Cal, even if neither of them really understood what she was doing. Hopefully, it wasn’t too little too late, and she would grow up to be a well adjusted young lady.

 Omega yawned softly in her sleep, shifting as she tried to find a more comfortable position. She repositioned herself so that her head rested on Cal’s chest, throwing an arm over the boy’s torso. Cal mumbled something incomprehensible and turned onto his side, pulling Omega into a loose hug as his blanket fell onto her. Omega smiled, eagerly nestling into the new warmth.

 For the first time in years, Crosshair found himself aching for that comfort. He and Hunter had always been at the bottom of the pile, the close presence of their vode always being the one thing that could ease them into a peaceful sleep. In the pile, there were no harsh lights that signified the early start of a new day, nor the echoing roar of Kamino’s storms. There was only them and their brothers, safe and together.

 He remembered the day they’d first been made to sleep apart. The noises and smells and brightness had made sleep impossible. Their room door had a crack at the bottom that always let in a bit of light, and to his advanced eyes, that little stretch of light had seemed like a kriffing sun to him. Only the threat of being separated from his batchmates for the whole day had kept him in his bunk. Once the morning lights had come on, he’d launched himself at his closest vod, which on that morning had been Wrecker. His second-eldest brother had pulled him into a crushing hug, and he had felt the wetness of tears on his shoulder. Any other time, he would have teased the larger clone for crying, but on that morning, he’d have been a hypocrite.

 Maybe it was their enhancements, or maybe it was the fact that the other clones didn’t like them very much, but for some reason it took far longer for them to become acclimated to sleeping alone. After their first mission, they’d all started towards their own bunks, as they had been for months, when Wrecker had paused and asked if they would still be separated if they pilled together on the ship. They had all looked at each other, before instinctively turning towards Tech.

 “I’m sure it’s against the rules, but…” He’d given them a small smile, “I won’t say anything if you all won’t?”

 So they had thrown their mattresses together and had arranged a set up that resembled their old shared bed. They had grown at that point, but hadn’t quite reached adulthood, so Hunter and Crosshair could still sleep comfortably at the bottom. They’d slept better that night then they had in months. As time passed and they reached their maximum sizes, they began to sleep apart more and more. Crosshair and Tech especially had taken a liking to having some extra wiggle room, Tech for his tinkering and Crosshair because he was simply becoming more used to being apart than together. He was often far away from his vode on missions, providing them cover from a distance.

 Hunter and Wrecker seemed less excited about sleeping by themselves, and both had trouble with sleep. Wrecker filled the void with a stuffed toy, one that his batchmates had made for him out of supplies they picked up on one of their earlier missions. Hunter simply carved the walls of his bunk or cleaned his weapons, exhausting himself so that sleep would come and take him into its sweet embrace.

 He wondered if they’d even let him pile with them now.

 The thought of being rejected from such a simple yet important activity had him feeling nauseous, and he shook his head, clearing the thought from his mind. He didn’t deserve to share that closeness with them, not after all he’d done, but he couldn’t bring himself to think about it. Curling up in the pilot’s chair, he let his eyes close, now painfully aware of how exposed and cold he really felt.

[legoshi-plz]

Pretenses (Louis x Reader)

Summary: Royal AU. Louis is a spoiled prince and you are a clumsy maid. Prince!Louis x Canine!Dog!Reader

AN: I’ve been writing this for like ever and I finally started on chapter 2 so I feel it’s time to go ahead and post this. This will be a multichapter series 💕

///////////

You were fired. You were so fired.

You knew damn well you weren’t allowed in the kitchen at this time. Your kind wasn’t allowed to use the kitchen until nightfall. It was the agreement the Royal court made over half a century ago when they first began to let Carnivores staff stay within palace grounds. They were allowed free range of the kitchen before sunrise and after nightfall but never in between. During the day, the kitchen was nearly entirely ran by a staff of Gazelles. They cooked and served the royal family exclusively as it had been for years and they had quite the aversion to all Carnivores. Canines especially.

You knew you were risking one of the best gigs you’d ever happened across going into the kitchen during the day but you were sure the Gazelles were on break and assumed it was a calculated risk. Boy were you bad at math.

You had snuck into the kitchen countless times when the Gazelles took their routine hour break right after serving the royal court lunch. There was a group of younger carnivores (badgers who tended the gardens) who came to you with gripes of hunger, knowing you were easily the best cook amongst the Carnivore staff. You agreed as always and set off to the kitchen to make a quick stew that would hold them over until nightfall as well be simple enough to prepare and clean up before the Gazelles returned from their break.

You had finished the stew and prepared to package it up to sneak out when two Gazelles returned to the kitchen unexpectedly. It hadn’t been the first time someone had come back early but you usually used your keen hearing to get out of dodge before hand. This time you weren’t so lucky.

You hightailed it out of there but not before they saw your face. It was over for you.

As expected you were called into the head of the kitchen’s office. An older, especially rigid Gazelle named Mrs. Stallworth. She was as mean and particular as they come, her disgust towards Carnivores not concealed in the slightest. In her office she was accompanied by an even older alpaca, Madam Peak, the head mistress of all royal staff regardless of division.

“Come in girl and stop loitering by the door!” Mrs. Stallworth snapped. You immediately approached her desk, sitting once she motioned to the chair in front of her.

“Look, I am going to ask you this one time and one time only, Dog, and if you lie to me, you won’t live to tell another,” the Gazelle sneered and you felt your heart drop.

“Were you in the kitchens today while the staff grazed?”

“Y-Yes ma’am,”

“Were you cooking using unauthorized food items not rationed for Carnivores’ consumption?”

“Yes ma’am,”

“Are you aware this is a volatile offense punishable by execution?”

“I- um, execution?”

“Enough of the dramatics, Marta,” The alpaca said gently, placing a hand on Mrs. Stallworth’s shoulder.

“Fine. Did you or did you not make this?” Stallworth produced a jar from behind her desk containing your stew. You nodded hesitantly.

“Thought so. What the hell did you put in this? Be specific,” You listed off the ingredients automatically, the recipe ingrained in your memory.

Once you were finished, Stallworth looked to her left, coming to a silent agreement with Madam Peak.

“You scrub the cobblestones with the rest of the domestic canine, right?” You nodded hastily.

“That’s grueling work, hard on the back and worse on the joints. Murder on the hands and knees as well, yeah?” She didn’t wait for an response.

“Look, you’re lucky you’re a small dog. Domesticated too. Anyone else would have been on the streets by now but I don’t believe in wasting talent when there’s far too little to be found in this world.” Stallworth said, her eyes boring into yours. You began to squirm in your seat under her gaze.

“There’s a position for you in the kitchen, if you want it. It won’t be an easy job, you’ll do all of the grunt work and you will not be treated as an equal. But you will be the first Carnivore to ever hold such a position. What do you say?” She looked at you expectedly and you realized she actually wanted you to speak this time.

“D-do I have a choice?”

“No, your only other option is termination and banishment from the palace. Report to the kitchens in the morning 20 minutes before dawn. You start tomorrow.” Stallworth sneered.

“T-thank-”

“You’re dismissed.”

////////

“Another day in paradise, huh Y/N?” Two Gazelles giggled as you reentered th kitchen in utter exhaustion. You had just been tasked with moving bag after bag of heavy flour from the stock room to the kitchen and you could feel every muscle throb in protest.

It’s effectively been about 2 months since you began your position in the kitchen and it was everything Mrs. Stallworth had warned and more. The work was seemingly never ending and you almost always got stuck transporting ingredients from the storage pantry to the kitchen. When you weren’t doing that, you were doing prep work or being used as a taste tester.

“You canines are pure muscle, it’ll go straight through you. Us Gazelles have to watch our figures or we’ll blow right up,” they’d whine before stuffing whatever dish they were making down your throat.

The job wouldn’t be so exhausting if it weren’t for the fact that after slaving endlessly for the Gazelles all day, you had to turn around and cook for the Carnivores as well. Though you hate to admit it, you had gained quite a bit of knowledge about nutrition during your time in the kitchen and tried to pass it on to your Carnivore brethren. They were less concerned about the actual nutritional aspect and were content with that fact that your food taste good.

“I’m not taking that to him! Find someone else!” One of the Gazelles screeched, pushing a tray of food away from her.

“Well I’m surely not taking it to him! Besides, it’s your own fault for sleeping with him!” Her friend retorted pushing the tray near her and walking off. This kitchen was never short of drama, that was for sure.

“Dog!” The Gazelle turned around to face you.

“My name’s not Dog,”

“Do you know my name?” She prompted. Shit, she had you there.

“Thought so. Now I need you to take the Prince his dinner. He’s under the weather and the food contains his medicine so he’ll probably refuse it. If that happens just show your fangs and threaten to eat him,” she said shoving the tray into your arms.

“I don’t have fan-”

“Better be off before the food gets cold,” She chirped, rushing off. You sighed and began your hike up to the royal chambers.

It took what seemed like an eternity to climb the countless flights of stairs until you reached the Prince’s bedroom, the royal chambers located impossibly far from the Kitchen headquarters. You began to knock on the door when you realized you had never interacted with a royal before. Had never really seen one in person. The Canines were given strict orders to stay out the way of anyone important and the Royals definitely could be considered important.

“Come in,” a raspy voice called. You proceeded to enter what was nothing less than the most extravagant room you’d ever seen in your life. In the middle of an enormous canopy bed was a stag. He looked increadibly small surround by the lush bedding.

“A Carnivore? And to what do I owe this visit? Heard the crowned Prince had fallen ill so they sent you to finish me off? They could have at least sent one of a formidable size, this is just insulting,” he sneered, his voice nasally with congestion.

“I-I’m from the kitchens, here to give you your lunch, my- um- liege?” You didn’t really know how to address a royal since no one ever thought it’d be worth the proper training for Carnivores.

“Dogs don’t work in the kitchen,”

“This one does. I’m.... new,” you said stepping forward.

“Clearly. Leave the tray by the door.” He snarled, turning on his side. You assumed you were supposed to take that as a sign of dismissal.

“I have to make sure that you eat, sire,” you began to walk towards his bed slowly as to not frighten him.

“Can’t you even follow simple instructions?” He glared at you. You remained silent, still holding the tray. Seeing you weren’t going away that easily, the Prince began to examine you.

“Judging by the way you look like death warmed over, I’m assuming they work you to the bone in the kitchens,” he sneered through his congestion. Again, you remained silent.

“Well however bad you think it is now, I guarantee I can make it a million times worse for you. Now get out of my sight,” after his little rant he expected you to flee, which made it that much more awkward when you simply stared back at him completely aloof.

“So be it then,” he huffed, snatching the tray from you.

///////////

You had expected the Prince’s threat to merely be the defiant ramblings of sick, unwilling patient and it seemed to be just that in the weeks that followed your quick interaction.

You avoided being forced to take him his lunch again and things continued as normal. You could even say that you were adjusting to life in the kitchens and the strain it put on you felt as if it began to lessen. Then it all came to a screeching halt one morning.

“Y/N! Stallworth wants ya” One of the Gazelle’s yelled entering the room. You put down the knife you were using to cut vegetables and wiped your hands on your apron as you trudged to her office. A feeling of dread began to creep into you as you felt trouble loom. If Stallworth ignored you that meant that you were doing everything right, so this had to mean something was wrong.

“Yes ma’am,” you said entering the already open door.

“The prince requested you. Said he wanted you to take his meal orders from now on and to bring them to him. I see no reason not to comply,” Stallworth said sharply. You didn’t know if she expected you to speak or not so you remained silent.

“Well what are you waiting for?! Go tend to the Prince,” she snapped and you were gone in a minute. You had no idea where the Prince was at this time so you decided the best place to find him would be where you last saw him, his bed chambers.

Just as you arrived, the Prince was exiting his room looking healthier than ever.

“My liege, the kitchen staff informed me that I was to bring you your meals from now on,” you panted from the sprint to his room.

“Indeed,” Prince Louis confirmed which led to a prominent silence.

“So where is it?” He snapped suddenly causing your ears to shoot up in shock.

“I have to know what you want first, you have to put in the request to the kitchen staff,” you said cautiously. It seemed the Prince was even more volatile in his robust state.

“My dietary schedule has not changed in years. Stop wasting my time and go fetch it, Dog.” He said as if your species was something filthy and detestable.

“My name’s not Dog,” you said in a quiet voice as you turned to leave.

“I’ll call you whatever I like, you pathetic excuse for a maid. It will do you well to learn your place.” Louis snarled. You bowed awkwardly and left to fetch his lunch.

You felt small, oh so small. And worthless. You had never been one of those Carnivores to resent the royal family (or Herbivores in general) for placing Carnivores so lowly in society, but then again you had never came into contact with such an openly contemptuous Herbivore before. The Gazelles ostracized you for the most part and Stallworth was a real piece of work but they never left you feeling so... ashamed. Ashamed of yourself and ashamed of your species.

This was to be the future leader of the Kingdom? A Herbivore who hated Carnivores? The thought was overwhelmingly depressing. Carnivores were barely getting by in society as it was, who knew what things would be like for them once a petty, egotistical asshole like him were to take the throne.

////////

All those months ago when Prince Louis had threatened to make life as hard as possible for you, out of all things you would not have expected to underestimate about him, his dedication was definitely at the top of the list.

He was relentless day in and day out, running you ragged around the palace for obscenely trivial matters, while also putting the burden of his meals solely onto you. He forbade anyone else to touch even a single ingredient of his meals, making you the only one to prep the meals, cook the meals, deliver the meals, etc. even if the exact entree was being cooked in the kitchen already.

He also made sure someone (usually one of his guards) was watching you at all times in case you tried to tamper with his food. It was embarrassing and insulting to have a guard breathing down your shoulder at every possible moment and yet that was something you were simply forced to deal with.

On days he felt like you were a little to compliant and agreeable, he’d make you eat whatever was on his plate with him, even if it was against your own nutritional chart.

“I’m afraid I can’t, my liege. Canine such as myself aren’t supposed to eat [insert food],” you said bowing slightly.

“Will it kill you?” He asked bored as always.

“Well, um, no but we get incredibly sic-”

“Then stop your incessant whining and get over here, Dog! I don’t have all day and this food’s not going to poison check itself!”

Prince Louis was a vile man. You’d even say you hated him and you had never hated anyone before. Every minute you spent in his presence, you felt lower than dirt and he had to know that. Which was why he made sure you saw him more than anyone in the entire palace. He even made you stand by his side and watch him eat, even if some days you were near starving from not having enough time to feed yourself in a rush to tend to him. All this and you still had to do your regular kitchen duties to the best of your abilities and help cook for the Carnivores at night after the kitchens were cleared.

You were beginning to be run to the bone and it was taking a negative effect in your health. Your heart would pulsate at unhealthy, sporadic rates; you found it harder and harder to digest food even when you were hungry; and your eyelids and limbs constantly felt like cement. After months of running you into the ground, you began to see that realistically, as badly as you needed this job, you just couldn’t keep this up if it sent you to an early grave.

The final straw happened in the Prince’s Study. He was taking his lunch there as he usually did. You stood at his side (he would never allow you to sit down) as he languidly ate his soup. He’d sent you back twice now for corrections to the dish but after the last time taking you so long to return (as you had to force your body to take every step), he decided to just begrudgingly eat it as is.

You barely remember what happened. One moment you were willing yourself to keep standing and ward off exhaustion and the next you were on the ground, unable to move. You heard a slight shuffle and then everything went black. The last thing you remembered was trying to get your limbs to move but they refused.

When you began to regain consciousness, the events of falling slowly began to come back to you. It looked like this was the end of the line for you. If you couldn’t do your job properly, you were fired, it was as simple as that.

You sat up slowly, ready to face the music when you opened your eyes to an all too familiar setting. You were in the Prince’s chambers. Even worse, you were in the Prince’s bed. You looked around frantically and saw him sitting in a plush chair in the corner, a book in hand as he languidly turned the pages. Upon seeing your eyes staring at his, he closed the book but made no move to stand up.

“You’re awake I see. Feeling better?” The Prince asked as bored as ever. Somehow you got the feeling that this was somehow worse than being fired, much much worse.

“M-my liege, I-, what am I-, how?”

“You passed out in my study, I carried you to my chambers.” He said standing up. He moved towards you like a predator.

“You’re basically a walking corpse. I doubt you’re even registering what I’m saying right now,” He leaned over you and before you could stop him he tore your blouse open.

“Just as I suspected. Your fur quality’s deteriorating as well,” he shook his head in slight disgust. You scrambled out of the bed and tried to cover yourself with what was left from your ruined maid’s uniform.

“I’ve had quite enough of this your highness. I- I- I quit!” you said in a fit of rage which only managed to come off as quiet frustration due to your exhaustion.

Louis rounded the room and stalked towards you. He raised his arms and you thought he was going to strike you, however his hands dipped lower to your waist to throw you over his shoulder. He marched you back to his bed and gently set you down in the center.

“Request of resignation denied. Now go back to sleep, Y/N. You’re not thinking clearly.” He said while he performed a half-attempt at tucking you in. You tried to struggle against him but your flails were weak. He grabbed you by the shoulders and languidly pinned you down until you tired yourself out.

“Finished?” Louis asked. You nodded slowly and he released you.

“Good. Now get some rest, I won’t ask again,” Louis ordered and you felt your heavy lids close as you drifted back to unconsciousness.

////////////

Louis made sure you were actually sleep before grabbing the book he wasn’t actually reading and slinking back into his armchair across from his bed. Okay it wasn’t actually supposed to be in front of his bed, it was supposed to be in his study but he had dragged it in here so he could watch you.

He told himself it was only as a form of protection, that he needed to be alert in case you woke up as an angry Carnivore. In reality, he could easily overpower you in any instance and he had just been watching you for the past few hours for his own reasons. He couldn’t help it, seeing you like this was an enigma to him.

Every time you were in his presence, your guard was up. You were painfully ignorant to the proper ways to address Royals and you knew it, so you constantly held your tongue in fear of offending him and making your situation worse. That only ever served to anger him more, how careful you were around him as if saying the smallest incorrect thing to him would hurt his feelings.

Well, he could kind of see where you got that impression. He had launched a full on personal vendetta against you and you had only been doing your job.

Okay maybe that was what started this but it certainly wasn’t what kept him going for this long. He hated to admit it but he’d hadn’t stopped this little onslaught yet because he wasn’t ready to stop seeing you. He had grown accustomed to being around you constantly, day in and day out, even if you were there slightly against your will.

The fact he found you to be the single most gorgeous creature he’d ever had laid eyes on definitely wasn’t a factor here, or at least that’s the lie he told himself.

He knew he shouldn’t think such things, he was betrothed for goodness sake. But he still couldn’t leave you alone, couldn’t let you out of his grasp just yet. He knew nothing would come of it and he was fine with that, had accepted it even. You were a Carnivore, a commoner, and he was a Prince. He was just occupying his time, nothing more.

Louis, to his own shame, had slept with numerous maids prior, of all walks of life. He was never stupid enough to sleep with a Carnivore, of course, yet he’d never really had the desire to until he met you. With you everything was different. It wasn’t just the urge to get into your pants that drove him, it was actually quite the opposite. Just being in your presence was all he craved, the thought of defiling you not even a factor here.

Whatever incessant crush he harbored on you would simply have to wear itself out but not if he wore you out first. He knew his torment of you to disguise his own feelings was childish to say the least but none of that mattered if you quit. Not that he would actually allow you to quit in the first place.

No, Louis wasn’t ready to go back to being alone just yet. He had decades of loneliness that await him during his Kingship. He would take his fleeting moments of happiness now where he could, before his time ran out.

/////////////

[yunatheintrovert]

shot through the heart (and you’re to blame) | Chapter 2 [Russell Adler/Female Bell!Reader Soulmate AU]

I hear the drums echoing tonight 

But she hears only whispers of some quiet conversation She's coming in, 12:30 flight-

“Change of plans?” you guessed, pulling your headset down to rest at your neck. You could still faintly hear the familiar sound of Toto’s Africa coming from your Walkman’s headset.  It took something for you to set down your Walkman. 

And upon seeing the expression on Lazar’s face, you knew it was one of those times.

After all, it was either that or someone had just broke the news to him that hamburgers were not on the menu in the outpost. Either one was important. 

Hamburgers were not breakfast food. But at this point, you’d take whatever the hell you could get. 

“Sandstorm forecasted to move in before the scheduled exfil.” Lazar explained as he leaned against the wall next to you, “Time frame’s been moved closer.”

“How soon?” you asked, already bracing yourself for whatever the hell Hudson and Adler had decided on. 

"Zero six hundred hours."

“No shit?” you sighed. The one lesson you learned in Cuba was that the devil was in the details. There had been a rush to get there. Limited intel, high risk. It was a mess from the start. 

You did not want another Cuba. 

“And that’s not even the start of it,” Lazar said agitatedly, “We’re not just parachuting in, we’re doing a damn HALO jump.” 

“Well,” you said with a sigh, “I’ll try to convince the cook to make hamburgers for the two of us while you’re gone.�� Lazar had past HALO experience. Although, he never did quite like parachuting after Cuba. 

“Nice joke, Bell. We’re all going.”

“...I’m cleared for this mission?” That surprised you for more than one reason. Aside from being an agent the CIA had barely spared, you were also not cleared for a goddamned HALO jump. 

No formal training.

...Well, there was Vietnam, specifically those “memories”. You could easily recall the vivid memory of falling through the heavy fog over Laos during one of the MACV-SOG operations you were in on with Adler. 

But that didn’t count for a goddamn thing. 

This didn’t make any sense whatsoever. 

That’s all you could think about as you stood from your seat quickly and secured your Walkman at your waist as you pulled your headset back to rest at your ears. 

“Good luck with Doc, Bell,” Lazar said, already knowing what you had in mind. 

You said a quick thanks to him before making your way through the halls of the command wing of the outpost. 

After all, you sure as hell were going to need it. 

I bless the rains down in Africa Gonna take some time to do the things we never had (ooh, ooh)

It hadn’t taken much time to find the man in question. After all, outpost Libreville was a modestly-sized outpost located near the borders of Angola in Gabon. The airstrip built and improved over time made it ideal for special forces operations and those of the clandestine nature. 

You had found him in the once empty corner office that belonged to an officer on leave. The small space of the corner office allowed smoke to curl and cloud around the room. Despite that, you easily noticed the schematics of the satellite and reports on the predictions of the timing of the satellite's crash scattered on the desk.

“Need something, Bell?”

“Sir,” you said tensely before bracing yourself and adding, “The HALO jump...I’m not cleared for it.” 

“I cleared you for it. We’re CIA, not military,” Adler said before adding, “You’re having second doubts.” 

“I’ve never done a HALO jump in my life, sir,” you explained, “My...memories of Vietnam didn’t count for anything.” 

“Now, that’s just bullshit.” 

“What are you talking about-”

“The feedback you gave on that HALO operation over Laos. No untrained person would have been able to replicate that kind of detail,” Adler took a drag of his cigarette before adding, “The scripts, Bell. I gave you the outline, you filled in the details.” 

“With all due respect, sir,”  you said tensely with a bit too much emphasis on the honorific to really be respectful, “That doesn’t mean a single damn thing when I don’t remember any of that.” 

“Bell,” you felt yourself stiffen under his gaze. He was always wearing those sunglasses and you could never tell his emotions or who he was even looking at times, “I pulled a hell of a lot of strings to get you back here. I trust you won’t disappoint me and the team.” 

You fought to stifle your shock. 

Russell “it was never personal” Adler, the very man who put a round in your chest point-blank, was the one to request your reassignment to the team?

And of course there was that damnable feeling that lingered in your chest. 

Everything about you was linked back to this team. It was your anchor in this new life of yours. And it felt...good to be back…

And as much as you wanted to deny it because really it was just such a damnable foolish feeling-

“I...I won’t let you down, sir.” 

-you couldn’t help but feel relieved that Adler wanted you back.

And really wasn’t that just pathetic? 

You felt the stinging sensation in your palm as nails pressed into your gloved palms. The sudden tightness in your chest made for a sudden urge to just get out of that small corner office. 

It was the smoke, you told yourself. It lingered heavily in the cramped space. Of course, it would cause your chest to tighten. 

Despite the sudden, desperate urge to just leave, you remained rooted to the spot at the front of Adler’s desk. 

“If the main chute fails to deploy and affects the reserve chute, how am I supposed to react in time?”

“Do whatever it takes to get it open,” Adler simply answered before adding, “If that doesn’t work...well I would say aim for the bushes. But we’re going to be in the fucking desert. Aim for a sand dune and pray it’s quick.” 

“Good advice,” was all you could quietly say. 

...sometimes it still felt as if he wanted you to die. 

“Anything else, kid?”

You took a breath. If you were going to die...well-

“About my Walkman…” 

You were going to go out the way you wanted. 

Lazar must have known your little conversation with Adler in his corner office wouldn’t take that long as he was standing in the nearby corridor with a rather grave look. 

“Come on,” he had simply said, “I need backup in the cafeteria. Apparently it’s Chili Tuesday…” 

Food was the last thing on your mind. 

So honestly you hadn’t paid much attention to that little bit of information. 

Although, you had bothered to switch out your mixtape which had long since stopped playing with the only other cassette you had on your person. You vaguely trading with one of the soldiers on the military transport you flew in on to get a new cassette tape. You could only bring a limited amount of items with you and you didn't want to risk breaking any of your priority cassette tapes. And you needed a song that you hadn't listened to before...even if it wasn't what you normally lent towards. 

Jambalaya and a crawfish pie and filet gumbo 'Cause tonight i'm gonna meet ma cher amio PIck guitar, fill fruit jar and be gayo-

Of course, it just happened to be about food. 

Trying to stop yourself from muttering about how your Walkman had to be cursed, you had just nodded and followed him down the corridors to the cafeteria. It was a fairly-sized open space with the usual setup. 

Although, strangely there weren’t many soldiers there. It was almost time for meal service. 

“Still on for the mission?” Lazar asked as the two of you sat yourselves down on the same table Sims had situated himself at. 

“Yeah," you admitted before adding, "I swear he’s trying to kill me.” Although, you didn't really want to think about that. It was out of your control at this point.

“Well, you are Adler’s protégé,” Sims casually commented, looking up from his plate of...food?  “I heard lions throw their cubs off cliffs to make them strong or shit like that. Maybe Adler’s doing the same to you.” 

“I’m not his-” you cut yourself off. There was something more important you noticed, “Wait how did you get that?” 

It was baked beans. Perfectly normal and cooked beans. 

Nothing remarkable but it was normal, the standard canned kind. 

“Heard about Chili Tuesday, specifically this one. Apparently, they’re serving 20-year old rations to us due to a supply shortage. They’re quite stingy-” 

“How did you get it, Sims?” Lazar interjected. 

“I have my ways of procurement.” And as you heard the exchange prices Sims listed, your jaw dropped. 

You already had to pay for all those mixtapes and cassettes you bought on a weekly basis. You weren’t going to spend that much on some cans of beans at an outpost in the middle of nowhere. 

Yet as you saw the churning red mass somehow called chili put on the cafeteria pans, you felt your stomach roll. 

The idea of eating that before a HALO jump in the next few hours-

“Where are you going?” Sims asked as you stood from your seat abruptly. 

“I have a mixtape to make.” you said, hurriedly excusing yourself. You’d rather have hunger pains than eat that before jumping off a C-13 Hercules at 30,000 ft in the air. 

Jambalaya and a crawfish pie and filet gumbo-

Nope, you thought fervently as you pressed pause on your Walkman. You did not want to be thinking about food right now. 

Although, truly what you told Sims wasn’t quite a lie. 

If you were going to go HALO jumping with no conscious experiences whatsoever, you were going to at least die trying with your Walkman. 

All you had to now was make a whole new mixtape in the three hours you had remaining. 

[bexterbex]

A Soul to Mend His Own | Ch. 65

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Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Will tag as I go along, Will update tags, Slow Burn, Influenced by Star Trek and other Sci-Fi themes, References to We Happy Few, Tons of References and quotes to George Orwells 1984 see if you can find them all, The First Order is the new Big Brother,  but who is really surprised, Blatant Nazi Symbolism, Interrogation Themes, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Really just drawn out Slow Burn, Don’t repost without permission, Torture themes, Suggestive Themes, Execution themes, Disturbing Themes, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Verbal Abuse, Controlling Kylo Ren, Physical Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, Possessive Kylo Ren, A character shamelessly based on Zelda

A Kylo Ren x Modern! Reader in a soulmate au with canon divergence. —————————————SLOWBURN————————————–

He is already the Supreme leader, searching the universe to find you, his Empress. Your name on his wrist has been the only constant in his life, while you have doubts about his existence and his acceptance of you. He isn’t in the database and why did the name Kylo Ren cover Ben Solo?

MASTERLIST

Chapter 65: A Rose by Any Other Name

You both entered your chambers, where your staff was waiting for you, Kylo ordered them to get out. You were to be alone with him, he told your ladies-in-waiting that there would be no need for them to get you ready for bed. You were to be his and his alone tonight.

“I will be leaving tomorrow, and I won’t see you until the ceremony, so I want you to myself tonight, Kitten.” His arms wrapped around your waist as he drew you close. Your eyes met the chrome of his mask, his muzzle.

He crashed his helmet down into your lips, you would be kissing but the helmet was blocking his reciprocation of your lips. You were unsure what to do, but you obeyed what seemed to be his command kissing the helmet, wrapping your arms around his neck, letting your tongue graze over the cool metal, feeling the red seams where it was repaired following them. You heard a synthesized groan come from the mask before, “Kitten. I do not know how much longer I can hold out. It is lucky for you that I will not return until you can be made Empress.”

His words sent shivers down your spine as one of his hands traced down your back. He released you for a second but not really, you felt the Force wrap its own protective limbs around you, in tendrils just like it had done with your brain.

You heard Kylo’s deep harsh chuckle once the mask was off, “I think my Force likes you.” You could see the smirk form on his face as one of the invisible tendrils moved up your bare leg, you felt the hem of your dress get tugged as you felt it wrap tightly around your lower thigh, “I think it likes you almost as much as I do.” He then pulled you back to his broad chest. You felt the tendrils slowly unwrap their hold on you.

His lips meeting your own, his teeth pulling your bottom lip with such a force you thought he was actually going to take a bite out of it. His teeth clashing into yours. He growled into the meat of your mouth like a hungry ravenous dog. His tongue bullying yours around like its own personal punching bag. You were held hostage in the cage of his arms, the rational part of your brain not really fighting back. Eventually, his lips abandoned yours to leave marks along your neck. Almost as if he was feasting on your flesh. In the crook of your neck, he laughed out, “Soon you will be known to the galaxy as the fair maiden that has tamed the bloodthirsty beast that is Kylo Ren.” His nips made way to your collarbone and down the neckline of your dress. Leaving deep bruises in the supple tender flesh.

“But I’m not a maiden, not really.”

He removed his head from your chest and met your eyes with an intense frown. “I know, and I am not happy about it.” His hand gripped your jaw, “If I didn’t have more important things to do I would hunt down every last one of them. You are mine and only mine.” His lips collided into yours, his hunger taking over once more. “Why didn’t you wait for me?”

This was a question that you knew you were probably going to have to answer at some point. You hadn’t viewed your virginity as such an important construct since you were in middle school. You lost it because you doubted Ben/Kylo’s existence, he wasn’t in the database, he wasn’t on social media, you began to doubt his existence. You also knew that it was more common for people to have platonic relationships with their matches, and you didn’t want to break your heart with the rejection. So you mainly messed around in college, it wasn’t that big of a deal to most people, but then again Kylo wasn’t most people.

“Why didn’t you wait,” you countered. If he was going to accuse you, he couldn’t do so without being held accountable for his own actions.

“Because Kitten, for me it was a right of passage with the Knights, a way to break my previous training and vow against attachments. My uncle, Luke Skywalker, took the traditional vow of chastity and a vow against attachments. I knew that would never be the life I wanted, as your name was a part of me.” His hand then grabbed your wrist and his thumb glided over his name. “I was also inexperienced, something I would never have wished upon you, a lack of skill, but I promise that you are the only one I have ever been attached to.” His lips glided over yours, “But you still need to answer my question Kitten. Why didn’t you wait for me?”

“Because I didn’t know if I would ever find you. I also did not know if you would ever accept me as your match, so I prepared myself. I also have never viewed my virginity as something special.”

“Then why are we waiting Kitten?” He was slightly agitated either from regular frustration or sexual frustration.

“Because you are special,” you said sweetly. With a smirk on your face, “And because you promised that I would be Empress first.” You leaned in to give him a sweet kiss, which he reciprocated. For a moment before your stomach growled out of hunger, you had missed lunch and it was slowly approaching dinner time.

“Hungry Kitten,” he asked with a smirk. His lips teasing your ear.

“Yes.”

He then led you out onto the patio, where you sat in the lounge chairs. He ordered food for you both. Once you both finished eating he beckoned you over to his chair, to sit on his lap. You complied as you felt the Force wrap around you again. For a bit Kylo was content with you just laying back against his chest, while the tendrils of the Force caressed over your body. Eventually, a tendril played with a lock of your hair and Kylo’s hand came to caress your face.

“I do not know how long I will be gone Kitten, will you miss me?”

You sat up and turned around in his lap, you were now lying chest to chest. “Of course I will.”

His hand found the back of your head as he brought it forward, to kiss the crown of your head. You scooted down to lay your head on his chest and listened to his beating heart. The heart many in the galaxy claimed he did not own. He was a beast, a mutt of a man. He compared you to a fair maiden, but in truth, you were more of the rose that he kept under the glass. Something he cherished above all else.

You knew most of the galaxy couldn’t see this demon man be as gentle as he was right now. He was an absolute horrid creature in their eyes, something that would trample a rose like you instead of protecting it. But they didn’t know what his heart held. The spot he carved out for you long ago, when your name was the only thing that kept him going.

His fingers played in your hair, the pressure of the Force gone. “It’s time for bed Kitten. Tomorrow I shall leave you and when we see each other again you will be crowned Empress.”

You moved to stand and he followed. You made your way to your dressing room and got ready for bed. When you exited Dr. Dabrini was speaking to Kylo in a hushed tone. As you approached them the doctor faced you. “M’lady I have returned to administer the sleeping medication. I suggest you lie down as it will take effect quickly.”

You nodded in response and did as you were told. He gave you the drug and a glass of water to take with it. Once taken he told you that he would be back in the morning to access its effectiveness, and took his leave.

Kylo joined you on the bed, only after stripping off the lounge pants that he wore for the doctor’s sake. He crawled up next to you. “I’m sorry I am unable to protect you like I should.” A kiss fell on your lips.

“It’s all right, you heard the doctor earlier, we are too compatible and for this it's a bad thing but for everything else it's good.” You carded your hand through his raven hair. Kissing him again.

He settled over you as he kissed over your love mark riddled neck. Unlike before the kisses and nips were gentle as you felt sleep take over. And not just a normal sleep, a black sleep of nothingness for which you were thankful.

No dreams. No surprise dream visits. Only blackness, that was now a comfort as it reminded you of your match, your black eyed monster that only cared for you. A twin soul that shared the galaxy with you.

A/N: A short chapter because I was busy and then my brain couldn't brain.

[justaghostingon]

A Chance Encounter

Cyrus encounters a stranger wandering in the woods of the dark kingdom, and finds himself sharing a meal. But this strange, fae like girl might have more to do with Hugo and his friends than he could possibly imagine.

Not that he’d notice.

Takes place directly after Cogs in a Steel Heart

Give thanks to @quoththecomic! For letting me use her character Emily.

Read on ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27154016

or below the cut

Cyrus hissed as his toe collided with yet another overgrown tree root. This was getting ridiculous. How many unseen tree roots did this dark and twisted forest have? He was almost beginning to miss the eerie black rocks.

No, Cyrus shook his head. He wasn’t that desperate. He’d leave those rocks to Hugo and his friends. He was going home to Mona, and he could brave any amount of horrible tree roots if it meant he’d see her again.

Feeling lighter, he took another step forward, and promptly felt the ground disappear beneath his feet. Cyrus had just enough time to think, Oh no, before a sharp force yanked him upward into the air. Vertigo clashed with blood flow as the world gradually spun back into focus, and Cyrus furrowed his brow as he tried to figure out why the world had turned upside down.

“Gotcha!” A high pitched voice cried, and Cyrus saw a cloaked figure hurrying across the ceiling of the world like a particularly energetic bat. “Wait,” the figure slowed, a frown in their voice. “What are you doing?”

Cyrus blinked. “I’m upside down,” he said. He’d thought it was obvious.

“You’re in my trap!” The figure pulled off their hood to reveal a very angry girl. “I spent all morning on that!”

Cyrus frowned. That was hardly his fault. How was he supposed to see the trap among all the leaves? The girl scowled right back, arms crossed arms crossed in a stance that looked vaguely familiar. Cyrus resisted the urge to ask if she had any relations in the iron kingdom.

A sharp growl came from her stomach, and she slapped a hand over it, a sharp blush flooding the skin not hidden beneath her long hair. The action was so childish it made Cyrus’ stomach twist, feeling like a jerk for making this kid’s life harder. He sighed.

“If you can get me down kid, I’ll give you some of my rations to make up for it,” he offered. The girl hesitated, so Cyrus took a leaf out of Hugo’s book and tried to sweeten the deal. “And I’ll cook.”

The girl waited a moment longer, long enough for Cyrus to feel a little offended. Did she think he couldn’t cook? Sure, Mona did most of the cooking, but he was perfectly capable of feeding himself before she arrived in his life! He opened his mouth, fully prepared to defend his skill, when the girl stepped forward.

In one swift motion she cut the rope and sent him tumbling to the ground. He caught himself with his arms and pushed backwards, flipping to his feet. There were certain advantages to working with alchemists, Cyrus thought as he straightened his shoulders, they had forced him to learn some fairly impressive stunts.

“Join the circus?” the girl asked dryly, one hand on her hip. But Cyrus, who had spent years with Hugo, ignored her quip in favor of rifling through his pockets for his food ration. It was, thankfully, not damaged from when he’d been attached to an exploding firework earlier today.

“I’ll get to cooking,” he grunted as he pulled it out. The girl swiped it out of his hands.

“Not so fast,” she said. “I’m not trusting my food to some stranger who doesn’t know how to tell leaves from a trap. I’ll make this meal.”

Cyrus raised an eyebrow. Last time he checked, cooking had nothing to do with outdoor survival skills. Otherwise people in the cities would have starved long ago. Sure, they were starving anyways, but that was because of corruption, and not from a lack of cooking skills. At least he was pretty sure it wasn’t.

The girl set up the fire, oblivious to Cyrus’ dilemma, and placed a small pan on top that she produced from underneath her cloak. She then pulled out a few vegetables and threw them in the pan with Cyrus’s rations. As she pulled out green herbs too, Cyrus began to wonder how exactly she was able to keep all of it underneath her cloak. Maybe it was magic.

Handling three different things at once didn’t appear to be easy though, and Cyrus saw one of the herb bottles slip precariously to her elbow. He leaned forward and caught it just as the girl did the same. Her hair slipped slightly away from her face, and Cyrus got a glimpse beneath it.

Course grey stone took the place of warm skin, creeping downward like a slow moving poison. Her left eye was an empty white, as unseeing as the marble statues he’d glimpsed in the noble’s district.

The girl reeled back, food falling forgotten between them as her hand automatically went to her hair, holding it back in place to hide the stone. Her body was tense, whether to run or to attack Cyrus wasn’t certain, but he knew he’d have to tread carefully.

He chose his next words with care, knowing they could mean the difference between life and death. What had his grandpa said? Be straightforward? “Are you a fae?” he asked, trying to sound polite.

“Wha…” the girl’s eye widened with surprise. “No!” She shook her head. “Wait, are you?” her single eye narrowed.

Huh. Cyrus had never thought about that before. Was he? He’d always been unusually strong, and keeping up with alchemists certainly wasn’t something ordinary people had much luck with. Still, he’s pretty sure his grandpa would have mentioned if he was a fae. Right?

“I don’t believe so.” He said, “I’ve never checked.” How did someone check these things anyways? Was there some kind of manual of symptoms? How would he explain this to Mona?

The girl let out a sharp laugh, and Cyrus looked up in just enough time to see her press a hand over her mouth. Good. He was glad at least someone was enjoying his dilemma.

“Don’t laugh,” Cyrus grunted with a false frown. “This is an important question! There could be allergies…” What was it that fae were allergic to? Why hadn’t he paid more attention? “...I’d never be able to eat garlic again.” Or was it Ginger?

“I’m pretty sure garlic wards away vampires,” the girl leaned forward, merth in her voice. Cyrus noted some of the tension in her shoulders had lessened.

“Does it?” Cyrus shrugged. “I should probably write that down. Can’t afford to offend my boss.” A cheap shot, but one he knew would have Hugo in stitches, and any other teen with a problem for authority.

Sure enough, the girl gave a snort, Cyrus straightened, pleased with himself as he saw her shoulders finally relax. It was nice to know he still had what it took when it came to dealing with kids.

“I’m Emily,” the girl extended a hand.

“Cyrus,” he said as he took it and gave a firm shake. The food in the pan hissed, and the girl jumped, attention snapping to it as she threw in a few more spices in and pulled it off the fire.

“Food’s ready!” She said as she stirred the pan. Cyrus held out his travel plate obligingly as she dished out half to him. He took a bite and held back a gag. The food tasted disgusting, spices clashing and overpowering each other over raw meat and charred edges. It took all of his self control to eat it without flinching. How had she messed this up so badly? She’d seemed so confident! He wished Mona were here, she’d know how to save it.

Emily devoured the food in front of her with the hunger of the young. Cyrus watched with some amusement as she seemed unable to taste her own cooking, finishing long before he was half way through. She sat back then, balancing her plate on her knee in a lazy fashion.

“You know,” she said, as the breeze ruffled the hair covering her stone eye, “I think you’re the first person to respond to my eye like that. Most people are so horrified they chase me off.”

Cyrus looked up sharply, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. “That’s awful,” he said, and felt a flash of anger at any adults this kid had met before.

“It’s not that bad!” Emily amends, waving a hand in front of her in an effort to seem casual. “I’m good on my own. I can handle anything the forest throws at me.” She nodded her head, as if proud, like this wasn’t the saddest thing he’d heard today.

An image flashed before his eyes, of Hugo waving his hand in disgust as he watched some boys his age running about in the street, a ball between them. “I’m too smart for those imbeciles,” he’d sniffed. “So why would I bother to get to know them?”

“Sound’s lonely,” Cyrus murmured, as he remembered how Hugo’s eyes had followed the ball as it had bounced around. Emily drew back as if he’d slapped her, and Cyrus’ attention snapped to the present.

“Sorry,” he grunted, Emily still looked hurt, and he wished for Mona to know what to say to explain. Yes. Explain. He could do that. “I just got lost in thought,” he said.

Emily raised an eyebrow and Cyrus knew he’d failed at human communication once again. “I used to look after this kid about your age,” he tried again, and Emily’s eyebrow rose higher. “We split company recently, so I guess I was just thinking about him.”

“Oh,” Some of the tension in Emily’s shoulders dissipated and Cyrus could have cried with relief. “What was he like?” Emily asked, glancing to the side as if feigning indifference. “Your traveling companion.”

How to sum Hugo up in a single sentence? Cyrus bit his lip. That wouldn’t be easy. “Proud,” he finally settled on. “And defensive.” Emily cocked her head to one side, hair moving to tickle her nose, and Cyrus knew she wanted him to elaborate.

“He was kinda the worst, to everyone.” He started, because really, there wasn’t any other way to put it. “Like really mean,” Emily blinked, and Cyrus realized he was doing a really bad job of this. He tried again. “He didn’t get along with kids his own age, but always acted like he couldn’t care less, I guess,” Cyrus sighed, “I never realized how miserable he was, until he actually got friends and decided to stay with them.”

“Yeah well,” Emily scowled as she pulled her knees closer to herself. “Sometimes the so-called friends are actually worse.”

“What do you mean?” Cyrus’ brow furrowed. Had he missed something? Was Hugo still in danger?

Emily stiffened at his tone, and Cyrus felt his heart clench. He probably shouldn’t have sounded so concerned. He didn’t want to alarm her.

“Look,” Emily glanced away, not meeting his eyes. “Sometimes people take lonely kids and they try to radicalize them by separating them from their families.” From the bitterness in her voice, Cyrus knew she was talking from experience. He wondered who it was she’d lost.

She glanced up, and apparently read his interest in his face because she continued. “You ever heard of the Saporians?”

Cyrus had to admit he had not. “I’m not the best with countries,” he offered. Which was true enough, as all of Donella’s maps only really focused on ones important to the quest.

Emily gave him a false smile. “That’s fine. Most haven’t. It was conquered by Corona years ago, culture oppressed, the whole deal.” Cyrus nodded, sounded like basic government behavior to him.

Emily twisted a bit of the fabric of her pant leg. “My brother,” she started then hesitated. “He got...radicalized, by a group of friends, way back when we were kids. He thought he was serving his country but people like that? They don’t really care, they just use people's passions to make them into useful tools.”

“You’re lucky you’re such a useful tool,” Donella scowled at Hugo as he glared back after one of their rare fights. “Or I’d have tossed you out years ago.”

Cyrus winced at the memory, remembering how Hugo’s eyes had briefly turned to glass before hiding under their usuall wall of stone. “You got it backwards.” He shook his head. “Anything would have been better for him than staying with us.”

“You shouldn’t sell yourself short like that,” Emily scolded. “You seem like a great dad.” Cyrus bit back a slight chuckle at how completely she’d misunderstood.

“I said I looked after him,” he grunted. “But I wasn’t his father or anything. His mother…” Donella probably cared, deep down. You don’t put up with Hugo that long without caring a little, no matter how useful he might be. He was too much to handle. And there were other moments...but still, he shook his head. “He’s better off with them.” Better off with people who could tell him they loved him, not hide it behind lies and a cold facade. “Besides,” he added as he saw Emily was still apprehensive, “I already made sure the friends were good people.”

“You did?” Emily frowned. “How?”

“I posed as a bounty hunter and tried to kill him,” Cyrus stated bluntly and Emily’s eyebrow disappeared into her hair.

“You did what?” she said.

“I posed as a bounty hunter and tried to kill him,” Cyrus repeated as patiently as possible, mindful that the true brilliance of his plan wasn’t inherently obvious to those outside the thug profession. “And promised not to harm them if they stepped aside.”

“That-,” Emily shook her head, no doubt impressed by Cyrus’ brilliance, “-is the absolute stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” Or not. “What if they gave him up?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Cyrus shrugged, feeling that explaining his back up plan, run like hell, would likely only get him laughed at. “What matters is they stuck me to a firework and sent me flying into the sky.”

Emily choked. “They what?”

“They stuck me to a firework,” Cyrus repeated. At her incredulous expression he added, “It was a big firework.”

Emily’s brow furrowed. “And they just happened to have a big firework lying around?”

“Yes,” Cyrus nodded sagely, “the little one seems quite fond of them.” Emily’s shoulders stiffened, and she scrutinized Cyrus like she expected him to tell a bad joke. Cyrus briefly wondered if she knew who he was talking about. But no. That would be too much of a coincidence.

“So you trust them then,” she asked, voice causal. “Even after they blasted you into the sky? That doesn’t seem like the best recommendation.”

Cyrus sighed, looks like he wasn’t getting it across at all. “They know he’s the worst,” he stated. Had he left that part out? “And they still blasted me with a firework to defend him.” There. That got the point across right?

Emily’s brow furrowed as she stared morosely into the dying fire between them. Cyrus didn’t have to see inside her head to know she was deep in thought. It was the kind of expression Hugo would use when he was contemplating a particularly difficult heist he’d have to pull off. Finally she shook her head and pulled herself to her feet.

“It’s been nice to talk to you Cyrus,” she said as she began to kick soil on the fire. “But if I need to start moving if I want to make good use of the remaining daylight.”

A sudden image of Emily sitting all alone and eating her horrible cooking flashed across Cyrus’s mind. His heart gave a strange pang, and he heard himself say, “you could come with me if you’d like.” Emily stopped moving. “My wife would be happy to have you,” Cyrus continued, because he knew Mona would love her. Bad cooking and all. “And you wouldn’t have to wander around in the woods.”

Emily shot him a hollow smile. “Thank you,” she said. “But I can’t. I’ve got a mission to complete. Besides,” She rapped the stone on the side of her face. “I’ve no intention of staying like this forever.”

Cyrus wondered what it was about young folk that had them all running off on quests these days.

“Very well,” he sighed. “But if you ever come to the Iron Kingdom, go to the west district and ask for Mona or Cyrus, someone should point you in the right direction.” If by some strange twist of fate she got there before he did, Mona would make sure she wasn’t chased out of the city for the stone on her face.

“Sure,”  Emily nodded, then shot him a mischievous grin. “And if I see your kid, I’ll be sure to give him your best.”

“Thank you,” Cyrus grunted, but inside he felt his blood run cold. If Emily and Hugo met, he had a feeling whatever kingdom they met in wouldn’t survive the encounter. He hoped Hugo’s friends stayed far away from Emily.

Emily turned, and something slipped from the pouches beneath her cloak. She dove down to catch it, but not before Cyrus saw the smooth wooden carving land on the ground. If Gyrus didn’t know better, he’d have sworn it was a talisman. But that was impossible. Hugo would have told him if one had gone missing. Wouldn’t he?

Emily stuffed it back in her cloak with a look that was almost guilty. “You didn’t see that,” she said.

“Of course not,” Cyrus agreed, sure it wasn’t that important. Emily smiled.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

got any good domestic johnlock fic recs??

Hi Nonny! 

YES!! I certainly do! I love domestic Johnlock! Done lots of lists in the past, so check out the additional lists, and I’ll update those lists with these latest ones I’ve sorted!

DOMESTIC JOHNLOCK Pt. 4

See also:

Platonics and Domestics

Platonics & Domestics Pt 2 / Hugs, Cuddles & Kisses Pt. 3 / Tooth-Rotting Fluff Pt. 4 / Love Confessions, Slow Burn & Dev. Rel. Pt. 2 / Established Relationship Pt. 3

Platonics / Bromance / Friendship Pt. 3

When Morning Comes by Youarethelightoftheworld (T, 423 w. || Christmas Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Lazy Mornings/Morning After, Fluff and Angst, Sleepy Cuddles, Domestic Fluff, Cuddling / Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort) – “Sherlock,” says John solemnly, “I’m not sure we can go anywhere today.”

Promises Kept by grannysknitting (K+, 844 w. || John POV, Hurt/Comfort, Friendship / Pre-Slash, Sherlock’s Violin, Worried Sherlock, John Whump, Post-TGG) – When they were in hospital, Sherlock made a promise to himself. Now he’s keeping it. Set after ’Polygamous Marriage’ but before ’Back in the Saddle’

Realisation by Susie.Donym (K+, 957 w. || Sally POV, Pre-Slash / Friendship, Humour) – It takes her a while but Sally finally makes a huge realisation.

Like Any Other Day by wearitcounts (T, 1,145 w. || Fluff, John’s Birthday, John Loves Sherlock, Sweet / Thoughtful Sherlock) – Just when John thought Sherlock couldn’t get any more strange…

Together is What we Have, Together Protects Us by Phantom of the Black Pearl (K+, 1,566 w. || Post-TRF, Friendship / Platonic or Slash, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Sherlock, Worried Sherlock, Slice of Life) – After a case one evening in the flat Sherlock voices a concern that causes the pair to consider why they’ve chosen to stick together after all that’s happened.

Like Euphoria and Scotch by FinAmour (M, 1,856 w. || Five and One, Alchohol / Drinking, POV Second Person Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock’s Imagination, Armchair Sex, Fluff, Happy Ending) – 5 different ways it all could have gone + the one way it actually works itself out.

One in Ten Thousand by Blind Author (K+, 1,856 w. || Post-TGG, Friendship / Pre-Slash, Discussions of Violence, Worried then Curious Sherlock, Scars/John’s Bullet Wound, Medical Anomolies) – John seems to have unusual mobility for a shoulder wound…

The Adventure of the Mysterious Appearance of Tissues by Gwen’s Blue Box (K+, 1,910 w. || Fluff, Humour, Sick John, Caring Sherlock, Hurt/Comfort) – In which there is a case, John has caught a cold and is not interested in investigating, Mrs Hudson is away and Sherlock does the shopping.

The Case of the Missing Blogger by nicknack22 (K, 2,147 w. || Fluff, Humour, Friendship, Worried / Anxious Sherlock) – Alternately titled, The Case of the Oblivious Consulting Detective. In which Sherlock comes out of his mind palace to discover John missing. 221B does not fair well as a result.

Risotto by Richefic (K+, 2,153 w. || Friendship, Angst, Misunderstandings, Apologies) – The first time that John cooks dinner for Sherlock is almost the last. Fortunately, Sherlock is really quite observant. Inspired by John’s reference in “The Great Game” to there being some leftover risotto in the fridge.

The Many Faces of Concern by sdrawkcabemdaer5 (K+, 2,473 w. || Friendship, Angsty Fluff, John Whump, Mildly Clueless Sherlock) – John is injured on a case, leading to some surprising reactions and discoveries about their friendship.

Bored Games by patster223 (K+, 2,769 w. || Cluedo / Board Games, Friendship, Humour) – Sherlock is bored and John decides that they should play Cluedo. In retrospect, it was a truly awful decision.

The Rational Machine by Solstice Zero (K, 2,924 w. || Hurt / Comfort, Malnourishment / Fainting, Doctor / Minder John) – Sherlock passes out. John muses on the reasons why. Containing an absorbing case, two bags of shopping, and a few apples.

On a Sunday Morning by SD_Ryan (G, 3,136 w. || Fluff, First Kiss, Obsessive Sherlock, Pining Sherlock) – Sherlock has a little problem. He can’t stop obsessing about John Watson. {{Note to Self: ‘Cheese Tease’}}

Wish I Was In Heaven Sitting Down by standbygo (M, 3,282 w. || Post-S4, Five Plus One, Missing Scenes, Parenthood, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Cuddling & Snuggling, Hurt/Comfort, Declarations of Love, Fluff, Food, John Whump) – Five times when Sherlock and John ate together, and one time they didn’t. A history of the boys, in food.

The Bee Charmer by dreadpiratewatson (M, 3,314 w. || Est. Rel., Captain / Soldier John, Idiots in Love, Domestics, John in the Army) – Greg goes to 221B to check up on Sherlock after a strange phone call pulls him away from an important case, and is stunned to find himself in front of a gun brandishing soldier with a sleeping Sherlock on his chest. John Watson is a doctor, a war hero, a husband, and the only one in the world who can soften Sherlock’s heart.

Bored Games by SparksMayFly (K, 3,492 w. || Humour, Friendship, Cluedo / Board Games, Big Brother Mycroft) – Sherlock asks if he can take Reverend Green in for interrogation. John explains that’s not how the game works.

Every Step of the Way by Shi_Toyu (G, 3,795 w. || Car Accidents, John Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Slash, Caretaker Sherlock) – When John is injured on a case, Sherlock can’t forgive himself. Everyone expects him to give up on his flatmate and get bored, but he’ll prove them all wrong by sticking with him…every step of the way.

Five Times John Cooked Something with Peas and One First Kiss by 221b_careful_what_you_wish_for (T, 3,915 w. || 5 and Ones, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Cooking / Food, Sick Sherlock, Music, Domestic Fluff, First Kiss) – After John cooks five dinners that slowly reveal their hunger for each other, Sherlock and John finally share a first kiss.

Jukebox by standbygo (T, 3,990 w. || Fluff, Singing/Music, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Hurt/Comfort, Humour, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss) – After the music halls of Sherlock’s mind palace get damaged by accident, John learns that Sherlock never forgets a song. Even the ones he’d rather forget. But the random singalong brings some unexpected benefits.

No Good Without You by textsandscones (T, 4,021 w. || Case Fic, Sherlock’s Violin, Dancing, Soppy Fluff) – A diverting new case surrounding musicians and stolen instruments captures Sherlock’s attention, the consequences of which lead both detective and doctor to see one another in a different light. Part 1 of Prompt Fills

Breakfast, acronyms and brotherhood by Rose de Sharon (K+, 4,074 w. || TBB Fic, Friendship/Bromance, Hurt/Comfort, Protective John, Fluff) – Set after The Blind Banker: my take of Sherlock and John’s conversation over breakfast. S/J friendship, bromance, no slash.

The Care and Keeping of Your Mad Genius by Janieshi (T, 4,553 w. || Post-TGG, Friendship, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Light Humour/Teasing, Alternating POV, Cranky Sherlock) – If he hadn’t been so focused on holding the bastard still, John would have laughed aloud. This maniac really thought John was the pet in this dynamic?

Welcome Home, John by slashscribe (G, 5,504 w. || Post-S3, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Awkwardness, Stabbed Sherlock, Protective Sherlock, Panic Attack (Sherlock), Self Esteem Issues, Love Confessions, First Kiss) – When John moves back to 221B, he thinks he’s the broken one, but after a while, it becomes clear that he might not be correct.

Of Razors, Pipes, Red Notebooks and Rugby Jerseys, Or: Sherlock Doesn’t Like His Doctors Clean Shaven by allonsys_girl (E, 7,313 w. || Est. Rel., PWP / Porn With Feelings, John’s Beard / Beard Kink, Roleplay, Love Declarations, Banter, Rimming, Anal, Domestic Fluff / Bliss, Idiots in Love, Emotional Lovemaking, Pet Names, Obsessive Sherlock, Sherlock POV, Bottomlock, Cranky Sherlock) – John grows a beard. Sherlock really likes it. Part 1 of Consulting Husbands

On Favors and Keeping Score by Ewebie (G, 7,622 w. || Hurt/Comfort, Sick Fic, Fluff, John Whump) –  John woke up to the horribly unpleasant sound of his clock alarm. Which meant he’d slept through his phone’s alarm. And for a moment he glared blearily at the noisemaker before smacking at it with his palm. Ugh, he felt like rubbish. The back of his throat was burning with the irritation that heralded a proper dose, his nose was threatening to drip every few seconds, and he had the uncomfortable flush that normally suggested a fever. Nothing high, just uncomfortable. Nothing deadly, just irritating. Nothing worth calling in sick with, just a full day of discomfort in the face of other people’s discomfort. It was going to be a day where he was forced to bite his tongue from telling people off. “You’re not as sick as I am, so off you pop.” Part 7 of Tumblr Shorts

Speak My Language by Itsallfine (T, 7,479 w. || Thanksgiving, Love Languages, Love Confessions, First Kiss) – When Mrs. Hudson introduces John and Sherlock to the concept of the five love languages, Sherlock descends into a dark mood and John’s curiosity gets the better of him. What is Sherlock’s love language, and why does the whole concept set him so on edge? Part 1 of A Holiday Triptych

The Name Game by ItsClydeBitches221B (K, 8,958 w. || Humour, Family, Platonics / Friendship, Sort-of Parentlock, John/Mary, Mary is Nice, Five and Ones, Baby Watson, Mycroft Loves Baby Watson) – The names that baby girl Watson comes up with for her extended family. Or: how everyone—Watsons, Holmes, and others alike— just learned to give up and embrace their weirdness.

How To Give Your Boyfriend Who Doesn’t Know He’s Your Boyfriend the Best Valentine’s Day Ever byunicornpoe (T, 9,832 w. || Valentine’s Day, Fluff and Crack, Soft Sherlock, POV Sherlock) – Sherlock is pretty sure that John Watson is his boyfriend. He’s also pretty sure that John doesn’t know it. But with a little help from a magazine, some friends, three crepes, five dates, one awesome CD, and a stalker van, John is bound to realize just in time for Valentine’s Day.

A Is For Aftermath by ElvendorkInfinity (T, 10,567 w. || Injury / Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Friendship/Pre-Slash/Bromance/Platonics, Hallucinations, Introspection, Insecure / Worried John, Big Brother Mycroft, Alternating POV, Anxious Sherlock, Self-Deprecating, Mildly Possessive Sherlock, 3G Moment) – John is still hallucinating, Sherlock cannot sleep, and Lestrade has a new case for them. But will life at 221B ever be able to return to normal? Epilogue to M is for Moriarty.

Shuteye Shenanigans by Ayakae (K+, 13,263 w. || Post-TRF, Friendship / Epic Bromance, John’s Nightmares, Angsty Fluff, Bed Sharing, Humour, Cuddles, Taking Care of Each Other, Domestics) – John Watson has never slept with Sherlock Holmes. Never ever ever. And never will, thank you very much. Well, there was that one time, but John didn’t count that. It was completely different, just like the second time it happened. And the third. And the fourth. Epic bromance, but it can be read as pre-slash if you wish.

Hope for Heroes by Richefic (K+, 16,887 w. || Post-TGG Fic, Introspection / Flashbacks, Friendship/Epic Bromance, Hurt/Comfort, Worried/Anxious Sherlock, Sherlock Admires John, BAMF John, John Deduces, Fancy Party, John’s Self Esteem, Domestics) – In the final moments of “The Great Game” Holmes hopes he will have the chance to tell his flatmate that he was wrong. Heroes do exist after all and the one in front of him is called Dr John Watson.

Through the Clouds by Mazarin221b (E, 20,004 w. || Retirement, Sussex, Bees, Home Improvement, First Time, Romance) – Sherlock takes a remarkably early retirement at 47, and convinces John that a change of pace would do them both good. They buy an old cottage on the South Downs, and exchange their nonstop life in Baker Street for quiet contemplation, bee studies, and book writing. They might go completely insane, but sometimes it takes stepping outside of the life you’re living to find the life you want. Part 1 of Through The Clouds

Chaperones by MissDavis (T, 34,114 w. || 11 Years Post-S4, Fake Relationship, Parentlock, Disney World, Bed / Room Sharing, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, First Kiss, Obsessive Sherlock, Insecure John) – Right. Of course. Everyone assumed they were a couple and no one would question it. John put his elbows up on the table so he could rest his head in his hands. “You want to pretend to be a couple so we can chaperone a trip to Disney World with Rosie’s class and you won’t have to share a room with a stranger?” “Exactly.” Sherlock beamed at him. “Don’t worry about the cost. The Birmingham case last month paid more than enough to cover expenses for all three of us.”

The Book of Silence by SilentAuror (E, 60,056 w. || S4 Fix It / Post S4, Virgin Sherlock, Rosie / Parentlock, Domesticity, Fluff, Praise Kink, Sex Toys, First Person POV) – As spring blooms in London, John and Sherlock begin to take new cases and cautiously negotiate this new phase of life with John living at Baker Street again. Despite how well it’s all going, John struggles to forgive himself for the way he treated Sherlock following Mary’s death as well as trying to figure out how to finally put his long-time feelings for Sherlock into words. Part 1 of The Book of Silence/Rosa Felicia

[vatofrain]

On Winnie the Pooh & Paddington, Honey & Marmalade

Oh, something sweet on bread! To crave only sweet things: marmalade on toast, marmalade straight, another jar of honey. To subsist on sweet spreads and friendship alone: is this not the dream? To be a very nice bear going around the world, making the world (other people! other animals! hell, the weather!) nicer in turn.

My friend K and I have a running metaphor concerning honey. 11pm, on the backroads around a farm near the New York / Connecticut border, as “All the Birds” by Julia Weldon crooned through their beat up speakers, one hand on the wire by the headphone jack to keep the music playing (the wire bent just so)— we were talking about love. We were talking about how we had so much to give but were afraid to give it to anyone for fear that they didn’t want it— which is where the honey comes in, because, we thought, isn’t it like having an armful of honey? So much golden, syrupy sweet to give that we hold on to simply because we are afraid to make of others a sticky mess?

And our arms are not meant to hold viscosity so some of it drips, by accident, onto the grass, the road, someone’s shoe, but when we finally find somebody who says yes, love me, and I will love you too— in whatever capacity it may mean— we start to pour onto them and are afraid that they will stay shit you’re getting sticky all over me I don’t want this I don’t want this anymore. So we hold onto our honey. Though it doesn’t want to be held. You tell me to love you but I’m afraid that you won’t want it once you know what shape it holds. I don’t want to make of anyone a mess they didn’t agree to. There is so much honey in my arms.

A poem on honey and love: “Aunt Rose’s Honey Advice” by Lorna Goodison:

My aunt Rose told me that it is always good for lovers to keep honey mixed in with their food.

"Keep it around the house at all times," she said. Replace slick butter with pure honey on bread.

Feed it to your love from a deep silver spoon. Throw open the curtains draw free honey from the moon.

Use it to lend a gold glow to wan lustreless skin. Fold it into honey cakes, drizzle it into honey drinks.

Add a satin honey glaze to the matte surface of everydays. Voices sing polished with honey's burnishing.

Shall we then beloved become keepers of bees, invite an entire colony of workers, drones and a queen

to build complex multicelled wax cities near our home by the sea? Would that mean that salt

would be savoring through our honey? And you say, "What of it?" and give me a kiss

flavoured with honey and sea-salt mix. Integrated honey you say. Kiss me again is what I say

because the salt in that kiss could be the sting from old tears and we need to make up for all our honeyless years.

Honey as love, honey as effort, honey as a gift that can be both salty and sweet. When I say my love is an armful of honey, what I mean is this: I don’t quite know how to give it out slowly, how to make it just a honeyed piece of bread or a spoonful in the morning. What I mean is this: I am so concerned with its stickiness that I forget how sweet it goes down.

Winnie the Pooh is not a bear concerned with romantic love, but he is a bear concerned with love. Friendship, honey, let me shove my snout into the pot, let me lick out with my long hungry tongue every drop I can manage. Winnie the Pooh is a bear of very great appetite and a bear of very generous loving. His love is a constant loyal warmth, an endless hunger for the presence of the loved, a generosity, a deep and abiding faith. Some exhibitions:

Winnie the Pooh: It's always a sunny day, when Christopher Robin comes to play

Christopher Robin: I've cracked.

Winnie The Pooh: Oh, I don't see any cracks. A few wrinkles, maybe

Piglet: I-I think I'll just s-stay here... Y-you don't really need me anyways.

Winnie The Pooh: Oh Piglet... but we DO need you...

Piglet: Y-you do?

Winnie The Pooh: [takes Piglet's hand] We ALWAYS need you, Piglet.

Christopher Robin: I'm not the person I used to be.

Winnie The Pooh: You saved us. You're a hero.

Christopher Robin: I'm not a hero, Pooh. The fact is, I'm lost.

Winnie The Pooh: But I found you.

Pooh is not only hungry for honey; he’s generous with it. His actual physical honey may be a kind of love he keeps for his own consumption (I don’t feel very much like Pooh today / There, there, I’ll bring you tea and honey until you do), there is no denying the very greatness of his heart. His care for his friends (we ALWAYS need you, Piglet) his faith in them (you’re a hero), his devotion and love, the way his life is crafted around loving: is that not its own doling out of honey? So, then, with Pooh we learn that honey is not something to hide from the world: that while we should be mindful of human dignities like boundaries and agency, there is little to be gained in the rationing of love.

And here we come to another bear who doles out love like something only slightly thicker than water.: Paddington. While Pooh’s essential task is love, Paddington’s is kindness, that cousin of honey, both products of both effort and patience, both sweet & sweet & sweet & delicious on bread. While Pooh’s is the story of loving those we already love, Paddington’s is the story of how to offer kindness and compassion and respect and dignity to those we don’t yet know. Pooh tells us how to live and love within our inner circle; Paddington tells us to offer love wherever we go.

Some exhibitions of Marmaladeism, both by Paddington himself and his films at large:

Paddington Bear: if we're kind and polite the world will be right.'

Paddington: Thank you, Mr. McGinty. Nuckles McGinty: Don’t thank me yet. I don’t do nothing for no one for nothing. Paddington: Beg your pardon? Nuckles McGinty: You get my protection so long as you make that marmalade. Deal? Paddington: Deal.

& how through Paddington’s kindness, McGinty’s perspective changes:

Nuckles McGinty: [to Paddington] If you’re going to clear your name, you’re going to need our help.

Nuckles McGinty: “This bear is now under my protection. Anyone that touches a hair on this bear will have to answer to me, Nuckles McGinty. That’s Nuckles with a capital N.”

Henry Brown: No, of course you don't. YOU never have! As soon as you set eyes on that bear you made up your mind about him. Well Paddington's not like that. He looks for the good in all of us and somehow, he finds it! It's why he makes friends wherever he goes. And it's why Windsor Gardens is a happier place whenever he's around. He wouldn't hesitate if any of us needed help! So stand aside, Mr Curry. 'Cause we're coming through.

Aunt Lucy: Long ago, people in England sent their children by train with labels around their necks, so they could be taken care of by complete strangers in the country side where it was safe. They will not have forgotten how to treat strangers.

While both Paddington movies are completely wonderful, Paddington 2 is more effective in communicating its point: through a surprisingly nuanced look at the prison industrial complex, capitalism, and the insidious nature of evil (and how it roots from believing oneself superior to everyone else), it tells us that by offering people kindness, human dignity, compassion, and even love, we can often coax out their better selves from the protective shell of their worse ones.

These are times like any other: by which I mean, times in which we often learn the correct rhetoric, the correct stances, the correct politics, the correct opinions, and forget what all this is meant to be in service of: honey & marmalade, love & kindness. We speak out against prejudice (racism, sexism, classism, ableism, prejudice against LGBTQ people, etc.) rightly so— I don’t mean to say that we should stop activism or protest or a careful monitoring of language— but we must remember what we do this all for. Yes, structural change is crucial. What else is important? Treating the people you come across who are of these minorities we claim to support and defend well, treating them with kindness, with compassion, loving them well, as they need and want to be loved. Large-scale rhetoric is shaky and doomed if it doesn’t come from some deeper, sweeter instinct to ensure we are all fed: in food, in shelter, in education, in joy, in honey & marmalade. Let us not forget this.

I think we need to watch more kids’ movies. I think we need to reteach ourselves the fundamentals. I think it’s a goddamn shame that kids’ movies are dismissed as uncomplicated and unimportant, that wonder, hope, naivete, whimsy, charm, warmth, sweetness (those 2 secret sauces) are not granted the same gravitas as misery and grittiness, that there is somehow nothing important to say about them, that only cynicism and brutality are intelligent. One is not smarter for being miserable. One is not smarter for their pessimism. One is not smarter, is not better, is not more morally responsible or ethically aware or more worldly for refusing to place in their mouth a piece of bread spread with something sweet, for refusing to say yes, this is , in Leslie Jamison’s words (again, I know) significant, this“ single note of honey”.

[agent-yolk-writes]

Friends Like You and Us - Venom!Reader - Ch. 2

At long last, Chapter 2 makes it’s tumblr debut! Thank you, everyone, who’s been patient for a continuation. 

Things are finally rolling along as Reader and Venom (Veeder? Renom?) ends up bumping a familiar face or two that isn’t some weird effect of Venom’s gluttony. 

Previous chapter | Origin story

AO3 version here

Well, you didn't expect your companion to bail on you upon sneaking out of the school together. If you knew Gwanda (“It’s African...South African.” She explained.) was going to do that, then you would've gone after the boy. You silently hoped Venom won't eat her if you see her again, but you knew he knew what you were thinking about.

“Okay, now what?” You asked your companion out loud. At this point, your ‘uniform’ shifted into casual clothes that made you look like a tired college student watching the world go by on top of her apartment complex if anything. Good thing your Aunt Mary is always away or else you wouldn’t hear the end of it when she finds out you’re skipping school.

We find food.

“What happened to the-” You shouldered off your bag and rummaged through it, only to find everything except the snacks you swore would be enough. “How did-Ugh, nevermind. I really gotta teach you about moderation one of these days.”

Wasn’t enough. Still hungry.

You sighed in defeat, throwing the bag around your shoulders in defeat. “Fine, whatever. Let’s go find a drug dealer or something.” With all the boons that came with Venom, there had to be a bane to balance things out. In this case, it was eating people because, according to Venom, there’s a chemical in the brain that symbiotes rely on to survive. It just so happens that chocolate seems to have that same effect.

Brains and chocolate, part of a balanced breakfast. Perfect for a growing teenager, you bemused sarcastically.

Venom’s tendrils covered your body, liquefying into the edgy Spider-Man suit you can temporarily call yours. The sensation of having Venom all over you felt cold and unusual, but you hope you only have to deal with it in the short run before you could get used to it.

Now let’s get a higher view. With the extra help, you managed to jump to the building across the street without having to do a running start. You enjoy the long distance jumping rather than web-slinging around. Even with the prior experience, albeit not a lot, of jumping and web-slinging around, you couldn’t bite down the feeling of disorientation. How did Spider-Man not freeze up when he did this? Did he ever crash into a flock of pigeons at all?

That question alone brings back an unfortunate memory of one of your first ‘jumps’ where Venom ate like three pigeons in quick succession mid-air. Aunt Mary gave you quite a look when you coughed up a feather during dinner.

Too lost in thought, you didn’t realize you were at the go-to vantage point until your heart dropped to your stomach as you look down. Down where every car look like ants and the top of people’s heads shrink in comparison. Venom must’ve unraveled the mask so you can get a look. Sitting on the edge of a gargoyle, you reeled your head back to look at the high building, thoughtlessly kicking your legs while your hands are glued to the statue just in case.

“I should bring a knish up here.” You said to the air.

“What is a knish?” Venom appeared in your field of vision as he asks that.

“Oh yeah, you haven’t had one yet.” You noted. “It’s this snack that’s pretty popular around here. It’s a dough that’s stuffed with like meat or cheese or something else like mashed potatoes or beans. Some are shaped round and others are squared, but that doesn’t matter since they all taste really good at the end. We-You can buy one at a street corner since it’s a well-known staple food in the city, but why do that when my aunt can make a killer deep fried potato knish.” The more you talk about it, the more you whet your appetite for something to eat. Curse that parasite for mooching all the snacks.

Your thoughts go undetected as Venom’s milky eyes burrow in arrogance. “I am NOT a parasite! Apologize!” Venom demanded.

“Then stop eating like one!” You yelled back in the same intensity. “I’m not made out of money, you know.” Instinctively you reached out and attempted to pinch him, but all you can feel is the strange gooeyness that makes up the klyntar.

Suddenly, your spidey-sense finally goes off at the feeling of danger. You pushed yourself off from your sitting position into that stance Spider-Man was always seen doing. Now, where’s the danger…?

Your body moved to the other side of the building where you heard police sirens coming from below. It would’ve helped if you had a police scanner on your phone. Guess you’ll have to follow the chase where ever it may take you.

When you asked, “You ready, Vee?” You could feel the ‘mask’ merging back to its proper form around your face. Without any more confirmation, your shaking legs took a running start and swan dived off the ledge.

The crime had been taken care of before you arrived, which was very disappointing on your end. You did like a sick flip before you even got there and it was all for naught. You were fine that someone did the heavy lifting for you if it wasn’t for the aftermath right in front of you.

There were spider webs everywhere. On both objects and the captured criminals. There were some pieces that made a mental movie in your head trying to figure out how that trash can got that weird human shaped dent. Was it Gwanda’s doing or the boy? Could it be another spider-person?

Oh well. Can’t complain about a free lunch. The symbiote unraveled your gloves, impatiently gnawing at the web that’s holding his meal hostage. It’s a miracle the police haven’t zeroed in yet despite that big chase that was going down in Midtown.

“What did you think this guy did?” You wondered out loud, emerging from the symbiotic mask. “He and his crew must’ve stolen something really valuable.” It’s difficult trying to find something, anything that can rationalize your decision to eat him and not feel bad about it later. Since your hands were already occupied, you took your time trying to find any inference clues.

There was one thing for certain that you couldn’t help but comment on as Venom struggles to free the tasty looking unconscious criminal from the webbing.

“Man, this place is a like pigsty.”

“Hey! I heard that!”

The spidey-senses went off as a third, yet somehow familiar, voice was heard. You didn’t have time to react as a foot collided with your head and sent your body flying away from your lunch. You were so focused on the task at hand you didn’t even consider whoever did it was still nearby. Man, you really aren’t cut for the hero business.

In a daze, you look up at whoever it was that just kicked you. As Venom returned to his suit, you saw a silhouette of a very short person at first. As they got closer you wondered if they hit something important in your brain. The person who attacked you didn’t look like a person at all, let alone a human. In fact, they look more like a walking pig if anything.

Yep, that’s definitely a concussion coming on.

“Well well well, looks like a bad apple managed to make their way here.” Oh great, the pig is talking. This is definitely a concussion.

No concussion.

What?

We see it too. We should eat it.

If Venom’s telling you what you think he’s saying, then this a wacky series of dreams you’re having. It's unclear if it was your stomach or Venom's talking as the pig like thing started to look really edible, but you kept your urge in check.

“Left speechless, huh?” The pig continued. “Well you should after being caught red-handed like this.” For emphasis, he stretched out his seemingly large hand as he talked, which coincidentally is colored red from his suit.

“You’re...you’re from another dimension?” You asked, properly sitting up to meet somewhat eye-to-eye.

“No, this is my fursuit.” There was a pause. “Of course I am! The name’s Spider-Ham.” His nose scrunched as he snorts.

Hunger finally settles in as mild pangs started pulsing in your head. Rubbing one hand to your temple you groaned out, “Please don’t tell me your real name is like Peter Porker or something like that.” To your chagrin, he gasped. Venom grumbled something about wanting pork.

‘Porker’ dramatically gasped and his then enlarged hand shrunk as he placed the back of it on his forehead. “My secret identity! Exposed! Oh, the horror! You figured it out faster than that other guy.” Other guy? There’s yet another spider-person with him? All it took was a shot in the dark and Ham exposes everything to you? What kind of spider-person is this...pig?

And like that, your sixth sense went off as another pair of feet can be heard landing on the ground behind Spider-Ham. Surely this day couldn’t get any weirder...If you're lucky, maybe they'll throw you a bone.

[anothergirlrecovering]

Dietician day one

I sat in the waiting room of the nutritionist office uncomfortably texting my husband about random things. She came out smiling and shook my hand and said it was nice to meet me and walked me back to her office. She was super kind and compassionate and she asked me starting off if I had any Questions for her about everything and I asked what made her want to be a dietitian and specifically what made her want to work with eating disorders since they are probably the most challenging population for her to work with and she is sort of the least liked person on the team and she explained the story of how she had thought she wanted to be an accountant because it sounded like a good job and she went to college and took a class in it and he did it but had taken a nutrition class and loved it and felt like everything made sense and she had thought she would want to work with eating disorders because it seemed like something she would really like but then there weren’t really any opportunities in the field at that time and everything was sort of more focused on actual centers and not private practice and she said she had little kids later on and there was an opening at the treatment center nearby for a part-time dietitian so she applied they are thinking that might be her way to get to try working with that population and she went and really enjoyed it and then due to a variety of factors she recognize that she wanted to step out into private practice and she absolutely loves it. She said what a great question that was because normally people just ask her if she is proficient in treating eating disorders and I laughed and was like Amber told me all about how great you are so I never had any doubt that you are proficient and I explained how I had been planning to see her whenever I get pregnant and I just had an anticipated coming so soon but that my therapist Lynn had strongly suggested it. She had printed out the form that she had initially asked me to fill out online and I was thankful because she had actually read everything which I feel like a lot of times practitioners kind of skim over stuff but she knew a lot about me and pointed out that I had been really she had printed out the form that she had initially asked me to fill out online and I was thankful because she had actually read everything which I feel like a lot of times practitioners kind of skim over stuff but she knew a lot about me and pointed out that I had been really thorough and she made a comment about how she could tell that I was really intellectual and highly intelligent and I kind of jokingly said thanks and she was like no really I can tell by the way that you talk and in reading your responses to my intake that you are. thorough and she made a comment about how she could tell that I was really intellectual and highly intelligent and I kind of jokingly said thanks and she was like no really I can tell by the way that you talk and in reading your responses to my intake that you are. She told me that she would have to weigh me and I was like oh that’s fine and she was like OK you never know how people are going to take that and I was like yeah no it’s fine and she said we will do it at the end and I said OK that’s fine I weighed myself this morning and saw that I gained 3 pounds over Christmas so there’s that and so she was like oh OK are you weighing yourself pretty frequently because I saw on your paperwork that it seemed like it was kind of sporadic and I explained how it’s hit and miss work sometimes I weigh every day for a couple weeks and sometimes I don’t way at all for a few weeks. She asked about a lot of different things about my history and weather or not they are still in issue. I was honestly surprised because she never went over what my goal weight should be and she didn’t bring up recovery record and she said we were running out of time at the end so we couldn’t create a specific meal plan but she gave me a print out and I was like OK that’s fine. She was super compassionate though and talked about what my values are and she was like I’m pretty intuitive and I can gather from everything you’ve said that your dog is important to you and your husband is important to you and your job is important to you and musicals are important and is there anything else I’m missing and then she clarified and said she’s looking for things that are motivating me to get better and to fuel my body and I was like well I think the hope to raise a family and recognizing that you kind of can’t eat the way that I do and be pregnant and she was like yeah I know you can’t and that’s usually a pretty good motivator for a A lot of women but what about you? And I was like wait what and she was like all of those goals are great but what about you and I just kind of sat there staring for a second and she was like it’s OK for you to be important enough on your own to fuel your body because you deserve it and you’re worth it and you matter and she went on and on saying all these nice things and I just sort of sat there on comfortably smiling and she was like I know you might not feel it right now but you do matter and you do deserve to eat. She said that as soon as she brought up me mattering she could tell that I got really uncomfortable and she could see the wheels turning and she knows that there’s a lot going on up there in thinking about it and it’s OK if I don’t believe I am matter right now but that doesn’t mean that I can never believe that. She introduced the idea of adding the word and and then but to my sentence when my head starts spinning with unhealthy thoughts and I said I would try it. She wants me to think about practicing flexibility with text her is because that was the one goal that I said that I actually want to be over and of course the hard goal is to practice fueling at breakfast and lunch and she wrote on my little paper you are worth it and food does not have an agenda. I feel like every time she pointed out something rational she could tell that my brain was sitting there challenging it because I like when she was like oh all the foods are just there to nourish your body and fuel it they don’t have the agenda it doesn’t matter where comes from organic or not they still have the same make up and she was like what and I was like but I also still have that voice of my parents going on and on and on in my head don’t eat the pork it has nitrates in it so pork might be pork but it does have nitrates and she was like so there’s a lot of rigidity around strictly being healthy and she was like I’m not telling anybody to go out and eat fried chicken every single day but when you are restricting yourself from those things your body‘s going to want them and The more rules that you create for yourself the moorings Eydie you are going to have. She actually mentioned anxiety and how when you hold it somewhere like for me she thinks it’s probably anxiety in my gut and so part of it is the messages that I’m receiving every time that I eat and anxiety is literally releasing uncomfortable chemicals in my stomach or something like that and to makes me actually feel bad on top of the actual food and how she had recognize the physical therapist saying that anxiety is in my stomach and she pointed out that all girls seem to of gone through this sort of petri dish time in their life when everybody was looking at them under a microscope and they are sitting there wondering what’s wrong with their bodies and she said that her daughter had an eating disorder issues at one point and so she is understanding. She brought up eating breakfast and lunch and I said eating breakfast sounds stressful because it means I’m gonna be hungry every two hours or every 30 minutes you never know and she was like well it shouldn’t be every 30 minutes eventually and I was like well I just feels like my hunger is in satiable and literally when I was in the 11th grade my science teacher made fun of me and called me tapeworm because I was always hungry and she was like I eat like every two hours to and that’s normal there is no set one way to eat they don’t know what your body needs and everybody is different and it’s OK to need more at certain times than others and right now your body might have gotten used to eating like once a day and eventually it’s going to be like feed me feed me and I couldn’t help but laugh and was like feed me Seymour because she said she love musicals too. She asked me about how I manage my anxiety and I said mainly with CBT because I challenge those thoughts a lot and I gave the example of how I almost had a panic attack sitting in the circular booth in the middle because I always freak out and think I’m going to throw up even though there’s no real logic to that and I sort of just challenge those thoughts with the Factive like there’s no reason to think I would throw up I haven’t even eaten yet and they would all let me out of the Rose if I needed to get up and throw up and if it was going to happen it would really hit me and I would know etc. she asked me about grounding techniques and I said that I definitely tell my clients them but I don’t really use them that often but I explained how Broadway musicals has really helped me reign in some of that. She mentioned that I’ve had a lot of traumas and developed a lot of negative beliefs and thoughts from the past that are still influencing the present and then I can start to work on challenging them. After she explained that long thing about and and but she asked me what I was thinking and I just sort I have laughed and she was like what and I was like honestly Pam used to say that to me a lot when I was in paying attention but I swear I was paying tension to you and that actually makes sense and I was like Pam used to always be like get behind the feeling and she was like what feeling and I was like exactly and she laughed and I was like no everything you’ve said actually does make a lot of sense and it does help me to challenge my irrational thoughts so I can definitely try that. We had talked at the beginning about The treatment center she had worked out because it’s one that I’m actually technically working at PRN and I got the sense that it was a bad situation and I was like yeah I don’t blame you I wouldn’t want to work there full-time either and we talked about the dietitians in my area which she didn’t know one of them personally but had heard of her and it’s the one that I like and she didn’t know the other one and the one in patient. She didn’t know the one who had really helped me to stop hurting and I said she really only practiced for a little bit and then her and her husband got pregnant and she decided to stay at home and be a mom since her husband was a doctor and they were financially stable. She said good for her and she asked me about when I would want to be having a baby and I was like I don’t know I’ve been ready to have a baby for a few months but my husband is still not really ready yet. She asked me if my husband gets it or if he’s a support and she was like because there’s a difference and I was like no I get what you mean and I explained a little bit of our history and how that dynamic has been really unhealthy before and so at this point we sort of just don’t really talk about it and I said that he knows that I’m there seeing her and she was like OK that’s good and I explained a little bit of how uncomfortable it had gotten when he saw me texting Amber and how I’m just really worried that it’s going to blow up and be like that again and I don’t wanted to be and it just sent him a really unhealthy dynamic between us. She said that I never mention my mom and my intake which made me laugh and I was like you should tell my therapist that she get a real kick out of it and she was like well it looks like you listed mental illness for a lot of other people and I was like oh well my mom just never got diagnosed and I explained how my parents are just kind of neurotic about their food choices and pretty much every therapist who knows about eating disorders has said that they think they have an eating disorder and I’m a little bit in denial about it but I think last Christmas when my aunts said that my parents were bringing their own special food over to family events and it kind of hit home for me that that wasn’t normal and maybe they are a little bit more than on a diet type of deal and I explained how my grandma died and how I don’t really think it was emphysema. She was really nice and clarifying about how she wasn’t judging me for anything and that she takes everything I say as me being honest because that’s what she has to go off of and I was like that’s fine I promise that I’m not going to lie to you or anything because she asked what lying by omission meant tonight explained what my husband says about it and she was like oh OK and she said she could tell that I am honest because of the way that I was very open in my intake papers. She asked about my caffeine intake and I said is pretty slim all things considered and we talked about Diet Coke because I said if my husband has bought diet Cokes then I will typically drink two or three a week if they are in the house and she was like yeah those are typically Meal re placements and I explained how my hands used to hurt really bad because I was excessively drinking them and she explained how I probably triggered some auto immune response with my mean system trying to protect me and I said yeah probably. She pointed out a few times that she was just really poking me to get at my believes and she had asked sort of if I thought I had a problem and I was like I mean I know that I would never tell a client with my history that this is OK but at the same time it’s so easy to minimize it because I feel like normal people skip meals and they’re fine and I don’t feel like I’m in the anorexic mindset of really intentionally trying to lose weight and checking the scale all the time to make sure it’s going down so if feels like it isn’t really a problem. I explained how I’ve really thought a lot about why am I not prioritizing it because I said I really wish that I did care about prioritizing it but like I honestly just don’t and I explained how I just feel really bad after I eat and I think to some extent it’s sort of just become this avoidance of discomfort because if I put off breakfast and lunch and then I eat dinner at least when I’m having dinner I’m at home and can lay down which actually helps a lot or there’s my dog and my husband and TV and my piano and whatever else to wear I’m not as focused on it whereas if I meeting during the day that I’m sitting there at work thinking about it and I explained how if I eat during the workday then that means I have to sit there for the next hour or two or three obsessively thinking about how fat I feel and how my stomach feels fat whereas I could just avoid them. She said that she got the sense that I was really rigid and I explained about the chickens and how I need the free range chicken and free range eggs in it I won’t eat pork and I was like because I care about the pigs in the chickens and I was like so it’s not eating disordered and she pointed out just how rigid I’m being in general and that she doesn’t actually care whether or not I choose the free range stuff but the goal is that I not be so rigid and since I do all of the grocery shopping she asked about what it would be like if my husband did the grocery shopping and I was like I’m too much of a control freak and I feel like he wouldn’t buy the right things and she was like exactly my point so maybe that could be a goal of ours eventually and I just sat there realizing how anxious I fell just thinking about letting my husband be the one to grocery shop which sucks because I don’t want to admit that that makes me anxious but it does. We also talked a little bit about religion and when I was trying to explain my parents and my mom siblings and he became religious I’ll like they just kind of went crazy and in the sort of like and I realized that Fräulein no this nutritionist could also be crazy so I was like if you don’t mind me asking are you religious and she said yes she considers herself a Christ follower and I was like is there a denomination and I forget what she said but she said she was more evangelical and I was like OK then you might not actually find this crazy and want to start explaining and she was like oh no that sounds a lot more like this huge church of God church we have here and I’m not like that but she said she feels like spirituality is a healthy part of recovery. Also we talked a little bit about my issues with getting quality sleep and not feeling rested and she was saying that it’s possible that eating well will help me to sleep better or that eating well might help me have energy throughout the day but she can’t make any promises so we will just see how that goes and hopefully it will help.She said she knows a lot of this is really hard for me but she really believes that I can have the life that I want to have and she’s honestly just so nice. She ended it of course by taking a copy of my homework for me to have with me along with the sheet of suggested meals and then she weighed me and of course I didn’t get to see the number which annoys me mainly because I just want to know whether or not it was the same as what it was this morning or if it went up because of wearing clothing. Whatever the case she said she got my weight and we came back into her office and scheduled for two weeks from now she said that she really wants to see me weekly at least in the beginning but she didn’t have an appointment available during the time that I would be free for next week so we scheduled for early morning the following week before therapy and she was like oh and there’s a little break after so you could maybe eat a snack and then because hopefully you will have already had breakfast I just didn’t Seney thing because I know the reality of me eating breakfast that early in the morning before I drive all the way there is probably slim to none but whatever she can think of. She did that awkward uncomfortable thing where she really looked at me and said to take care of yourself and I said I would try and I looked away because it feels uncomfortable when people care about me and I feel even more uncomfortable knowing that she knows that and I can’t even explain why.

[justalittlebluetiefling]

5x04 - Pandora’s Box

So, I did a thing again and I was tempted to not publish it, but why would I write almost 4000 words and then just let it sit on my OneDrive forever? (Oh wait, you mean like all those WIPs sitting there???)

Here’s what I cover this time. Trigger warnings are addressed in the tags.

Random Things I Think Are Important Eligius III The Dark Year

Wonkru Kane and Abby Bunker Excavation Octavia

Eligius Miles Ezekiel Shaw Pirate Mechanic

Spacekru and Clarke Raven and Murphy The Big Reveal Bellamy and Clarke

Other Drawn Lines Death Watch

Random Things I Think Are Important

Eligius III

The blockage of the information on Eligius III is going to come back. It feels a little too obvious to have Shannon Kook’s new surprise character be someone returning from the Eligius III mission, but it has the potential to be super cool. It is obviously important enough to bring up, so it will show up again.

Could they really bring in space travel for season 6? Jason did say that the ending of this season opens up the possibility for more seasons. They talk about long-haul interstellar missions a lot. They’ve already talked about Hythylodium as a long-range fuel twice this season. I’m hoping that my man Zeke can help my gal Raven unlock those files on Eligius III and we can get a little more information so that the true speculation can begin.

The Dark Year

Alright, I know that no one really wants the cannibalism theory to be true. I sure as heck don’t. It makes me queasy just thinking about it. However, Abby brought up The Blight in episode two. “They won’t have to fight the temptation to eat their friends. You’re third generation farm station. You must have heard the rumors about the blight. It’s why we started floating our dead.” It’s why they started floating their dead. They’re not going to bring something like that up if it’s not going to relate to the current story. Most of the information they offer up early in the season is useful and foreshadows something. Maybe they’re not partaking anymore. I sure as hell hope they never did, because gross. This is still something that needs to be watched out for.

Wonkru

In some weird perversion of grounder culture and the justice system on the ark, it almost sounds like they’ve created a new religion. Octavia seems to be less a queen and more a religious figurehead. It would not be unprecedented. The mythos of the Commander also felt religious. Wonkru seems to have developed into an Imperial Cult.

An imperial cult is a form of state religion where the leader is worshiped as a demigod or deity. “The cult may be one of personality, or one of national identity or supranational identity in the case of a multi-ethnic state. A divine king is a monarch who is held in a special religious significance by his subjects and serves as both head of state and a deity or head religious figure.” 

Quite a few ancient civilizations were run this way. Ancient Egypt, China, Rome, Japan, etc. Pharaohs were believed to be incarnations of Horus and generally acted as a go-between for the gods and the people. Quite a few Roman emperors were declared gods by the Roman Senate, but typically after their death.

In the beginning of the episode, Gaia says, “As always, as we invite death into this hall, we honor it.” They bow their heads and say as one, “All of me for all of us.” It feels like a religious ceremony, but they’re not worshiping any god. They’re worshiping Blodreina and her justice. It’s the point where Blodreina doesn’t have to be Octavia. It could be anyone. Is this where the initiates will come in?

Still, I don’t know if they’re scared of her or what, but when Charmaine tells them to round up their things, no one moves until Octavia nods.  

It should be said, though, that I’m sure not everyone agrees with this system. Kane clearly doesn’t. Abby doesn’t. Jackson and Miller both seem hesitant. Indra doesn’t seem comfortable, but she and Miller are protecting Octavia, although probably for different reasons. There is definitely the potential for an uprising.

Kane and Abby

Everyone was right in guessing that Kane was in the ring, because he “stole” medicine for Abby. However, instead of it being about saving her life, it was covering for her addiction. I’m trying to withhold judgement until it’s delved into a little more thoroughly, because it’s not really my cup of tea. A story about overcoming addiction can be a powerful thing, but I don’t understand why Abby needed the pills in the first place. The most likely option were that she was taking pain pills for headaches and got hooked, but yeah. We’ll see.

The addiction could be one of the reasons she was so willing to leave Clarke with Octavia and Wonkru. I don’t think that Abby would have left her behind in the past. I know she sees that Clarke has been self-sustaining, but Clarke and co. were arguably self-sustaining after they were sent to the ground and Abby had an incredibly hard time letting go then. It seems more likely to me that there were two benefits to her going with Eligius: an easy way to save Marcus from Wonkru and the ability to avoid Clarke finding out about the pills.

I have a few family members who suffered with addiction, so I am only speaking from my experiences. I could be completely wrong and we could have different experiences. There’s a point in your life as a parent where you accept that your child has grown up. Abby has mourned for Clarke’s death like Spacekru did, as well. I’m sure there are a lot of things that informed her decision.

It’s fantastic seeing this character development in Kane. In the pilot, he was just… well, he was a dick. He did always have humanity’s best interests at heart, though. He’s evolved from believing that the ends justify the means to considering the impact that his actions have on other people. Unfortunately, this also opens him up to being a martyr. We already saw that he was willing to go that far this episode. 

Bunker Excavation

This has been talked to death, so I’ll try to stay brief here. It’s been a very long time since I last took a mythology class. I had to look up Pandora’s Box again. When Pandora opens up the box (or jar, in older stories), she lets out: greed, envy, hatred, paid, disease, hunger, poverty, war, and death. And hope is left inside.

I’ve seen some different interpretations on this, but what if there’s someone or something left in the bunker that is going to help everyone. Not help them win this war with Eligius, but possibly to help expand the survivable area? I mean, terraforming hasn’t been mentioned at all in this show that I recall, so maybe that’s reaching, but the crux of the story is that hope was trapped inside the box. They sure aren’t trying hard to convince us that hope isn’t a theme on this show. I know that survival is the primary theme, but still. It’s a major part of the story of Pandora and in Ovid.

Anyway, let’s just put terraforming on the list of things that I can’t believe I’m considering as a possibility for this show and move on.

Octavia

Okay, why am I doing this? Skip past this part if you don’t like Octavia. This isn’t defending her, but it also isn’t persecuting her.

Baby Blake was stuck between a rock and a hard place. The system that she helped build is barbaric, but if she hadn’t formed this system, everyone in the bunker would probably be dead by now. All of Skaikru would be dead. There might be a few warring factions left at this point, but they would be starving, because they didn’t know how to operate the systems. The bunker could have opened up to something MUCH worse.

So, bear with me here, but our judgmental babes Clarke and Bellamy don’t have a lot of room to judge. Do I ultimately agree with them? Yes. But I don’t know what either of them could have done better. As Octavia says, six years is a long time. There had to be some kind of justice system implemented. Population apparently needed to be reduced (have I mentioned how much I hate that plot device and find it unnecessary?). Did it need to be a gladiator ring? No. But Octavia did win the right to the bunker in battle. If she had allowed all of Skaikru to stay in and had the other clans split the rest of the space equally, there may have been more of a chance for a more peaceful solution. If Clarke had made it in, everyone could have become Nightbloods, but would there have been enough food in the valley initially to support people? We don’t know if the farm could have helped supplement their diet for long. They would have had to ration. Rationing typically leads to rioting. I don’t know. I just don’t know.

Regardless, Octavia will say something about doing what was necessary to survive at some point this season. Clarke and Bellamy will be horrified. This episode started off being about reunions, but by the end, the lines started to be drawn for the upcoming conflict.

Eligius

Oooh the dynamics here are becoming more and more interesting every episode. I thought Charmaine seemed a lot like Dante at first, but this episode corrected me. They’re more like the Grounders than the Delinquents from season one: pretending to make deals while intending to kill the people we care about. 

Also, McCreary has been planning to overthrow Diyoza for a while. I can’t wait to see Murphy’s reaction to this guy (1x12 anyone?). If it’s not the fake episode title, I think that conflict will be the one that comes to a head in ‘Sic Semper Tyarnnis.’ I thought that might apply to Octavia, and it’s possible it still does, but knowing the underlying motives here changed my mind. If anything, this will be the point that Diyoza will officially ally with Clarke, Bellamy, and co. in order to save her own life. Or die before she has the chance.

We know Charmaine was a decorated war hero and that she became a terrorist. They’re going to explain why. I don’t even know how to speculate on this, though. My big fear is that if 5x9 is a story about McCreary overthrowing her, that it’ll be closer to 2x8 and the backstory we got for Finn right before his death. Jroth does like killing people, but she’s too interesting for me to want her to die, even though she’s currently an antagonist.

Okay, but how about some more imminent issues dealing with Eligius. ALIEN STOMACH SNAKES. This has to be what they want the doctor for, right? We don’t have enough information to speculate, but is it an alien parasite? Do they have to kill it with fire? Is it contagious? Is it a result of cryosleep? Is McCreary sick with them? Is someone that he loves infested with them? Did they pick it up while they were mining? Is it the thing that made Zeke feel guilty enough to help the prisoners overthrow the ship? Oooh, were they being experimented on? Could they form a symbiotic relationship with their host? Are they like yeerks in Animorphs? I DO NOT KNOW ANYTHING.

Miles Ezekiel Shaw

Oh man, this guy. This guy. I don’t even know where to start. So far, over the course of this season, we’ve learned that he was a guard on the ship and helped the prisoners with their mutiny, because he didn’t agree with what was being done to them. He is the one who suggested that they orbit the planet for a bit. He’s their pilot. He can code. He pushes for a peaceful solution instead of war. He was an altar boy, an adrenaline junkie, but he’s logical. He’s sarcastic and witty and fucking ballsy. Alright, this is getting away from me. 

We are already seeing proof that Zeke is going to turn on Eligius and come over to the “good” side.

First, they make a point of showing that he’s listening to the exchange between Diyoza and McCreary when they talk about grabbing the doctor and killing the hostage taker and his girlfriend. Zeke is not on board with this plan. Their behavior since they’ve landed is making him question his choices. 

I’ll admit that my second point is a little shaky, but we all seem to be in agreement on him pretending that he couldn’t launch the missiles. Lot’s of things back it up. Raven was focused on keeping them out of the systems in space and there was no explicit mention of her hacking into their ship on the ground. Thanks to Occam’s Razor (or wishful thinking), Zeke flubbing the codes and pretending it was Raven after he’d hyped up her awesomeness all episode seems pretty likely. 

Finally, we’ve got the ‘our people’ vs ‘your people’ moment. It starts around the 33-minute mark. Diyoza starts laying it on a little thick and mentions “our people” twice. She uses it to guilt him into opening the docking bay doors to kill Raven and Murphy. But he doesn’t want to do this. He knows very little about them. He knows Raven’s hacking skills, he knows his opinion on Clarke, I think he respects Bellamy for working toward a peaceful solution, and he overheard their reunion via Lasercom. Would you want to kill these people?

“Wait.” “What is it, Shaw? Talk to me.” “They’re waking up.” “They opened the pods.” “Colonel, if we don’t close the doors right now, your people are gonna die, too.” “You mean our people, don’t you, Lieutenant?” “What are your orders?” “Close the doors.”

Zeke is relieved here, because he doesn’t have innocent blood on his hands. Charmaine is also impressed by these tactics. It’s a ballsy move, but it doesn’t matter.

“Either way, we’re back in control. Your friend may be smart, but she’s a coward.” “Live coward.”

Here’s where I wonder if Zeke can empathize with making a choice to save yourself. I do believe that he thinks he had the moral high ground siding with the prisoners, but there’s a good chance that it was a survivor’s move, too. Also, the implication that he’s their only pilot was a little surprising to me. Piloting a ship across the solar system seems like it might be a little exhausting. They’re trying to make me believe that he’s indispensable and lull me into a false sense of security. They’re going to ruin my life by taking him away. I HAVE BEEN BURNED BEFORE. 

Anyway, Jordan is giving us QUITE a performance as Lieutenant Shaw and I’m loving it. His delivery of “It’s done” after he opens the docking bay doors is heartbreaking and I just want to hug him. It seems fairly obvious at this point that he’s going to help Raven and Murphy escape, because the poor guy is reaching the end of his rope.

Pirate Mechanic

This seems as appropriate a place as any to talk about Zeke and Raven. This is a specific variation of Meet-Cute, but I can’t remember the specific kind. I wanted to say Love At First Punch with a heavy dose of Defeat Means Friendship, but there are a ton of possibilities.

Regardless, he seems incredibly annoyed and impressed by this girl at the same time. “I told you, this girl is some kind of genius. Everything I thought of, she thought of first. She even had time to flip me the bird.” When you’re the smartest one around, it’s really frustrating to encounter someone quicker. But he’s intrigued already.

And finally, we have Charmaine calling out a relationship that isn’t established yet as at least something when she refers to Raven as his friend. I’m sure she’s not going to be surprised when Zeke turns on them to save these people. It’s the most unfortunate thing about him, after all. He seems like an all-around decent dude, but he makes no effort to keep his emotions hidden. It will probably get him into trouble.

My guy has no idea what he’s walking into next episode. I mean, he already respects her for her mind. He heard her emotional reunion with Clarke and I’m sure that hit a few buttons. But when he sees her? Shoot. I have palpitations whenever she’s on screen. I can’t imagine what he’s going to go through.

Really, I think this ship has a ton of potential and I’m looking forward to seeing how they develop it!

Spacekru and Clarke

I need to come up with a better name for this entire group. The Griffin-Blakes & Co.? I could just keep calling them The Delinquents. It seems apt for now, but it’ll depend on where lines end up being drawn. 

Raven and Murphy

I want to talk about Raven before I get into anything else. Lindsay Morgan always blows my mind, but she ascended to a new level this episode. So did Murphy, for that matter.

Raven doubts herself a lot for being such a badass. And this episode showed a new layer of her self-doubt. She was scared that she wouldn’t be able to pull the plug on the prisoners like Clarke or Bellamy would be able to. She knows that they’re murderers, but she’s hesitating over taking their lives. I’m sure it won’t be addressed, but my theory here is that leaving Clarke behind on earth really fucked her up. Raven was the one who said that they had to go, she knew that Clarke would want them to go, but ultimately, she thought she left her friend to die. She might have a hard time staying pragmatic this season for that reason.

Now, Murphy.

“Everybody was so surprised when I stayed behind, I mean, most of all me. Thought maybe I was doing it to impress Emori, but the more I think about it… I mean, why do you always have to be the one to sacrifice? Anyway, if it comes down to it, I got this.”

The fact that it’s Murphy up here to support Raven is cool. I’ve mentioned before that I haven’t entirely forgiven him for shooting Raven, even though he did it accidentally. But he’s grown and changed. Shit, this episode really solidified his redemption arc. He knows that Raven is afraid she won’t be able to pull the plug. He is going to pull it for her. “I mean, why do you always have to be the one to sacrifice?” He acknowledges her losses. She lost full use of her leg, she lost Finn, she’s been tortured, chipped, he watched her deal with the aftermath of using the EMP to get the chip out of her head. Murphy feels genuine guilt and admiration for her, now. Raven has forgiven him, so I should probably make my way that direction, too.

I know that next episode is not going to be pretty for them. Raven and Murphy are friends now. They want to protect each other. Eligius is going to use that against them and it is going to suck for us 

The Big Reveal

There’s no way around it. I lost it when Raven said Clarke’s name last night. I was full on sobbing in my seat. I’m getting tears in my eyes thinking about it right now. I can’t watch this scene without breaking down. And Murphy’s reaction was even more than I could have hoped for. I forget sometimes how grateful he probably is to her. I mean, she saved everyone, but she very saved Emori two other times (the nightblood experiment and the helmet tear).

I legitimately can’t wait to see them meet up in person. And to see Monty and Harper and Emori and Echo react to her being alive. (I’m not touching on the way this impacts B.echo right now, because that’s a hot minefield and I love and respect people who ship it, casually or not.)

Bellamy and Clarke

We finally got their official reunion and hoo boy, it was worth it. I loved all 78 seconds of it.

There’s so much good about this scene. Bellamy hesitates in the doorway and he RUNS to Clarke. When he gets to her, his hand runs from her ankle to her knee, because he seriously couldn’t not touch her for one more second. It’s a caress to reassure himself that she’s really there. Like, look at this fucking screenshot.

It’s romantic as fuck is what it is. 

Then the romance keeps coming. She’s so relieved that he’s there and they stare at each other’s faces before she jumps on him for a hug. There’s that slooooow pull back where there faces are sooooo close to each other before they finally talk for a second. The real killer is, “And now you’re home.” Bellamy is about to cry as he’s nodding, because shit you guys. He thought she was dead. I wanted to talk more about their potential turbulence, but this is a mindblowing moment and I got distracted. He gets to hold Clarke again for the first time in six years. She was his best friend. They relied on each other and trusted each other. They went through hell together and she was willing to die to make sure that he (and their friends) could live.

When they go in for the second hug, we get Clarke’s patented lip press to his shoulder, and for the first time in our lives, we see him reciprocate. BUT IT’S BETTER. Because his lips are pressing to her bare skin, his fingers are digging into her back. He’s taking her in, and lovelies? You don’t smell your friends. (Like this sounds weird, but I promise it’s sexy, you guys.) The piece of him that felt lost while he was up in space is back. NOT TO MENTION THAT HALLWAY SHOT! 

I mean, wtf was that? It shows how he basically pulled her into his lap. Even when they separate again, their hands are still on each other. They don’t separate much. His hand is on her hip and hers is on his waist. We wanted Bellarke constantly touching each other to reassure themselves that the other was actually there and well, we’ve got it. We wanted more proof that everyone except them “sees” it? We got Charmaine Diyoza EXPLICITY CALLING HER HIS GIRLFRIEND. We’re getting canon romance this season, babes. It’s coming.

They fall into sync again immediately. They’re communicating wordlessly across crowds again. Bellamy is already factoring her back into his life, even though it’s going to make his own life confusing as hell. He is going to make her protection a priority. I’m sure they’re going to argue about the best way to approach things, but that’s a minor obstacle. They have always argued, but they can empathize with each other. It’s part of what makes them a great team.

Other

Drawn Lines

Octavia is more focused on protecting Wonkru, Abby is more focused on protecting Kane. Wonkru is not going to be welcoming of Bellamy and Spacekru. They’re not going to welcome Clarke. Eligius is obviously welcoming none of them, barring their theft of a doctor.

So, we have Wonkru and we have Eligius.

I think the following will end up working with Spacekru:

Clarke Madi Miller Jackson Indra (I’m iffy on her, but she doesn’t seem entirely on board with the system O and Gaia built) Kane and probably Abby Zeke

It’s a small group, but I’m sure we’ll see alliance form and fail a few times before the season is over.

Death Watch

Not in order, but these are currently the people that I’m most convinced are going to die this season:

Octavia Kane Abby Charmaine Indra Monty OR Harper Murphy OR Emori McCreary

The End. Thank you for reading my rambling once again. Hit me up in my inbox or DMs if you want to chat about any of this as long as it stays respectful!

[patriotsnet]

What Does The Bible Say About Republicans

New Post has been published on https://www.patriotsnet.com/what-does-the-bible-say-about-republicans/

What Does The Bible Say About Republicans

What Does God Say About Democrats

What Does the Bible Say About 2016 Election – Hidden Secrets Revealed – Republican vs Democrat

Sharing the Gospel of Jesus Christ and Saving America

Steven Andrew is leading the nation to reaffirm covenant that the USA follows Jesus Christ. The Bible teaches covenant is the most important action to save lives, restore safety, strengthen the church, and raise godly generations.

testimonials

Michael

I know of no one doing everything they can to help our nation to turn away from wickedness and sin, and turn back to God, like Steven Andrew.;

Craig

Giving to USA Christian Church is the most powerful way to support God’s will for the nation and defend Christianity.

The USA is in a national emergency. Our only hope is to surrender our lives and the nation to God and agree to obey the Lord. We have hope. It is not too late to find Gods mercy. Steven Andrew

People are very concerned. The news shows the USA is in a freedon verses tyranny national emergency. It could even be a life verses death crisis if the nation goes into captivity as happened to Israel and Judhae for their sins. If we want to honor God and have God bless our lives and nation, it is important we know: What does the Bible teach about Democrats?

I am Steven Andrew, the pastor who believes like the founding fathers. I am on a mission from God

Pray

Is the Bible your final authority or do you go by your feelings and own ways?This is Gods opinion, not mine.

For protection and national security, the nation needs to see Democrats hearts the way God does.my This is Gods opinion not my opinion.

Grist Is The Only Nonprofit Newsroom Focused On Exploring Solutions At The Intersection Of Climate And Justice

Our team of journalists remains dedicated to telling stories of climate, justice, and solutions. We aim to inspire more people to talk about climate change and to believe that meaningful change is not only possible but happening right now.;Our in-depth approach to solutions-based journalism takes time and proactive planning, which is why Grist depends on reader support.

This September, become a monthly donor, and your entire yearly amount will be matched. Grist hopes to welcome 200 new monthly members by September 30, and were closing in on our goal! Help us further advance our reporting by giving us the stable, reliable funding we need. Consider becoming a Grist member today to ensure this important work continues and thrives.

Bible Verses Violated By The Republican Party

Please note this article is not another case of a Democrat insulting the Republican party and their religious members.; I dont like either political party and Ive lost hope in the current political system until major changes are made.

While Ive lost most; interest in national politics,; some things still catch my eye. But what bothers me the most, and always gets my attention, is when a politician campaigns on a the premise that their allegiance to their God makes them a better person than the other candidate. Fast forward a few months after their election and there they are obstructing ethical legislation; for their constituents only to make their donors happy.

If a politicians; adherence to the Bible is what makes them a good person and good elected official, what do they become when they no longer adhere to the Bible?

You can understand why I feel my arguments made here are sound: The voting and campaign records of Congress are widely-available public records, and since 7 out of the 10 Bible verses I used are from either Matthew, Mark, Luke or John, meaning that 70% of this is literally the Gospel truth

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James : 19 Niv: Everyone Should Be Quick To Listen Slow To Speak And Slow To Become Angry

Well THAT’S a big red flag if I ever saw one. Any of the above points show that Donald Trump does not have a reasonable filter. Whatever comes to mind comes straight out of his mouth, especially when he gets angry. If our president acts out in anger, we are going to have a lot of issues on our hands. Can you imagine how he would converse with other world leaders? What would he do if they insulted our government, or heaven forbid, Trump’s hand size? How would he react to negative criticism from countries we very much need to remain on good terms with? Not only is this dangerous, it also gives more reason for people not to respect America. It would say a lot about us if our leader had the same temperament as a two-year old in a time out. A true God following leader would participate in rational discussion, in which all sides are heard and acknowledged.

I’m not trying to tell anybody that Hilary is the Christian candidate we’re looking for. In fact, I don’t even believe we need a Christian candidate at all. This is America, where anybody of any race or religion can do the job. What I am trying to say, is that if you think Donald Trump is your closest bet to having a Christian in office, you’re making the wrong choice.

Your choice matters. Choose wisely.

Abortion Is An Integral Part Of The Vaccine Industry

For you created my inmost being;;you knit me together;in my mothers womb.;Psalm 139:13

The Bible makes clear that life begins at conception. It says that every child is a gift from God . If Jesus were here today, I am not sure if He would be carrying a sign, but we can agree He would be pro-life.

Many are surprised to find that in fact, vaccines do contain;aborted fetal tissue,;including lung and kidney tissue.

This is because scientists grow live vaccines in living tissue. You can find aborted fetal tissue in 23 total vaccines, including:

MMR

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Gop Lawmaker: The Bible Says If A Man Will Not Work He Shall Not Eat

This storys headline;has been corrected. A quote from Rep. Jodey Arringtons remarks at a congressional hearing has also been added.

One lawmaker is citing a godly reference to; justify changes to the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program: Rep. Jodey Arrington recently quoted the New Testament to question the strength of current work requirements.

The biblical passage, 2 Thessalonians 3-10, was a rebuttal to one of the hearings expert witnesses, a representative of the Jewish anti-hunger group MAZON. It is also a familiar refrain to anyone who has watched past debates about SNAP.

House Republicans have historically cited the verse if a man will not work, he shall not eat as justification for cutting some adults SNAP benefits. Arrington referenced the verse in a discussion;about increasing the work requirements for unemployed adults on the food stamp program. But critics say that;advances;a pernicious myth about the unemployed who receive SNAP.

The verse in question applies specifically to people who can work or otherwise contribute to society but choose not to, said theologians from several denominations who spoke to The Post. There is a perception, among some voters and lawmakers, that many adult SNAP recipients are exactly this sort of freeloader.

More from Wonkblog:

James : 26 Esv: If Anyone Thinks He Is Religious And Does Not Bridle His Tongue But Deceives His Heart This Person’s Religion Is Worthless

Wow. That was blunt. I commonly hear people say that they like Donald Trump because, “He speaks his mind.” There is a monumental difference between speaking your mind, and throwing words about without caution. The things that Donald Trump has used his platform to say should not only shock you; they should offend you. His words are rash, prejudiced, and hurtful. You don’t believe me? Here are some examples:

“You know, it really doesn’t matter what the media write as long as you’ve got a young, and beautiful, piece of a**.”

“My fingers are long and beautiful, as, it has well been documented, are various other parts of my body.”

Now I don’t know about you, but this doesn’t sound like the kind of man who has proper control over his tongue to me. Words are some of the greatest indicators of who we are. The president of our country should be able to possess certain qualities, such as engaging in foreign affairs without flying off the handle. Not only is this concerning to our national security, it is also a warning sign of poor character.

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Looking For Some More Related Articles

Take a look at these other similar type articles:

Robert

Great article Jack,Sure a lot of good points you brought up. A lot to ponder as an election grows near.

It seems like the people who get elected reflect the sentiment of the nation. If we are concerned with the economy, we vote for the people we think will fix it. If we are concerned with moral issues, we vote for those we think care about what we care about.

This may also be a way in which God judges, or blesses, a nation. As the individuals of a nation move further from God, they elect representatives that are also further from God. These representatives are then naturally going to be motivated by something other than God and His love. Therefore, the nation suffers.

On the other hand, as the individuals of a nation move closer to God and elect godly representatives, these representatives seek Gods will for themselves and the country. The nation is blessed.

Thanks again for a wonderful, thought-provoking article.

Yours in Christ,

Friendship Is The Goal Of The Gospel

What does the Bible say about voting in 2020?

Christians rightly think about salvation as forgiveness of sins and eternal life. But it is more than this. Jesus gives all who trust him the privilege of being his friends . And what is eternal life, after all? According to Jesus, this is eternal life, that they know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent . He rescued us to forge an intimate relationship with the triune God . God forgives us that we might share in his triune fellowship of love forever.;

In the new creation we will enjoy true friendship with all other believers. Our future is a world of friendship.

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Matthew : 28 Esv: But I Say To You That Everyone Who Looks At A Woman With Lustful Intent Has Already Committed Adultery With Her In His Heart

Now, I’m not trying to single out Donald Trump for having completely natural biological urges. All of humankind has fallen prey to the allure of lust. However, to battle with that in one’s heart and to voice it out loud to others are two completely different things.

The LORD calls men to honor and protect women. Women are handcrafted by God, and they are to be respected. Donald Trump has been quoted saying things that go directly against this God-given duty:

“Grab them by the the p*ssy.”

If that wasn’t vulgar enough for you, here’s a list of adjectives he has publicly used to describe women: Fat. Dog. Pig. Slob. Disgusting animal.

I don’t know what it’s going to take for this country to start valuing women properly, but having this guy in charge isn’t going to do it. As a woman, you should be concerned that a candidate for president is getting away with talking about your demographic like that. As a man, you should be standing up for the women in your life by saying that this is NOT okay! Young girls in this world should not grow up thinking that those words are okay because the President of the United States says them. If we elect this man, that will be the standard our girls will have for the men in their lives.

Exercising Our Civic Responsibility: What The Bible Says About Voting

Before we look at what the Bible says about voting, let us look at how our individual votes count.

Song of Solomon 2:15 says, Take us the foxes, the little foxes, that spoil the vines: for our vines have tender grapes. Foxes sometimes, in search of food, would enter into the grape orchards and devour the grapes and spoil the crop. However, the little foxes were too small to reach the grape bunches so they would chew on the vines and it would kill the whole vine. Instead of the farmer just losing his crop, he would lose his vine which was more disastrous. Spiritually some things we do or allow that we might think are little or insignificant can also be disastrous for us.

Listed below are some of the little foxes that generally keep us from our civic responsibilities, in the area of voting. The devil uses these lies and others so that he can keep godly men and women away from the polls and get the candidates of his choice elected. If we do nothing, it makes it easy for the enemy to help those who could become the wrong leadership for our nation.

My one vote doesnt count anyway.

Im disillusioned by the whole political process.

Im already too busy to take the time to cast an informed vote, so I just dont vote at all.

Politics are corrupt anyway and as a Christian I dont want to be involved.

What the Bible Says About Voting

_______________________________________________________________

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Achieving Racial Justice And Equity

The Bible is very clear that God does not show favoritism, and neither should his followers. So, there is no place for racism in the church or in America. The Democratic Party is absolutely just in standing strong against racism in America.;

Now, personally I think that some of the Democrats policies for eliminating racism are not biblical at all. But the fact still remains: The basic policy position is biblically just.

As the election approaches, remember: As Christians we are called to lead people to Christ, not to an elephant or a donkey. Dont allow your politics to sabotage your witness to unbelievers or your fellowship with believers.;

Our loyalty must be to Christ. So, do some research, and vote in line with the heart of Christ. Lets do our best to vote for right and just leaders, and to pray for righteousness and justice in the hearts of those who are elected.

Dane Davis is the pastor of Impact Christian Church. Join Impacts live outdoor worship service at 9 a.m. Sunday at 17746 George Boulevard in Victorville, or tune in online at 10 a.m. on the Impact Christian Church YouTube channel or Facebook page.

Christianity For Votes: How Republicans Are Using A Religious Facade To Gain Political Power

On full display: Rep. Ted Yoho, in his non-apology to Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, remarkably argued, I cannot apologize for my passion or for loving my God, my family, and my country.

Talk of God has been brought into and out of national politics throughout American history, with various partisan and non-partisan causes, but rarely in our history has any political group weaponized faith for political goals as comprehensively as todays Republican Party. Although the name of God has been used as a rallying cry for Republicans for decades, the party that claims to support Christian values has developed a twisted ideology where the mere mention of God has become a license for injustice. Consequently, his name is being thrown out in vain by Republicans who seek to avoid being held responsible for their actions, even when those actions go directly against the Scripture.

The contradictory nature of devotional statements made by GOP;members;was put on full display in a recent scandal in Congress,;when Rep.;Ted;Yoho, R-Florida,;was forced to resign from a Christian organizations;board after publicly exhibiting a behavior profoundly opposite to the values he claimed to stand for.

Yohos non-apology

A powerful political tool

If we want to resemble a hope for uniting and healing;within our;nation, we must rebuke lies, hate and division. We must rejoice in the truth.

WANT TO ADD YOUR VOICE?

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Christians Cannot Serve Both God And The Gop

The Christian right is the backbone of the Republican Party. Christians of all stripes from Catholics to Protestants and evangelicals consistently vote Republican. The core tenets of the modern Republican Party, however, are at stark odds with biblical scripture.

Over the last four decades, few priorities have consumed the Republican Party more than economic policies that benefit the ultra-wealthy. The Ronald Reagan presidency, in particular, ushered in an era where corporate bottom lines took precedence over fair wages for American workers. The rise of the Reagan-Republican ethos, which preaches the elevation of over virtually all other considerations, directly influenced of American jobs to countries with vast pools of cheap labor. Ditto for union-busting and the adoption of job-killing automation in pursuit of maximum profit.

These factors, unsurprisingly, the American middle class. Moreover, Presidents Reagan, George W. Bush and Donald Trump all pursued radical tax policies that overwhelmingly; if not solely; benefitted a small group of exceptionally wealthy Americans at the expense of the working and middle classes.

Republican policies favoring the ultra-affluent, however, stand in stark contrast with biblical scripture. The Bibles condemnations of the wealthy and the accumulation of riches leave zero room for ambiguity.

In short, followers of Christ must choose between God and money.

Property was sold and the proceeds distributed to anyone who had need.

[twilightdrifter]

I've been thinking about a lot of stuff recently and it might do help me process it better if I just throw it out there.

I never really acknowledged it, but I went through a good bit in my childhood. It took a long process of "who am I/what do I want" to "I hate myself/I'm not a good person" to "I did the best I can do given my situation", and while that last part sounds nice and all, it doesn't really give me a resolution to a lot of issues. I STILL don't understand how I should feel about my dad. I know he loves me, and I still love him too, but holy fuck, how do you treat your own child like that? Starving me, locking me in a garage, making me choose between him and my brother, blocking contact I had with my mom, and it's so wild to me that as a kid, I justified all of this. "If I behave better, then things won't be so bad. Other people have it worse, at least I still have food and shelter." I remember having to ration out what I was allowed to eat, timing my meals so that I would be able to sleep through the hunger. I remember thinking that I didn't really have a home, because I was conditioned to believe that I had to be useful in some way to deserve to belong, and what could I do as a child? I couldn't pay any bills, and he was always upset with me about something, so I never felt like I deserved to be there. I can go on and on, because literally every time I remember more about my childhood, I just get more upset. Not even that, I just get disappointed, because everyone in my family KNEW what was going on, and they blamed me for it. They blamed me for his abuse and when I left, they just cut contact with me. All those years I felt trapped with him, hoping and dreaming of when I'd finally be free, but I never imagined that it would be so lonely. When I left, I felt like I lost everything. He took everything I owned, and never tried contacting me again, and the rest of the family just stopped talking to me. And I've tried reaching out. I've tried reconnecting because he's my dad, he's important to me, but how can I value someone who doesn't value me? I'm angry, I'm sad, I'm disappointed, I just want to scream and yell everything I can at him, but what would that do? What's the point of feeling any of that when I know deep down that he does not care? I WANT to be important to him, I WANT him to want me, but I can't control that and I don't know how to deal with that. I want to feel like I matter, like I belong somewhere, but I don't know how to do that without being about to offer something to someone. I have to be useful otherwise I can just be left behind and forgotten. I want to say it's not true, but clearly it is. Everyone has a purpose or a place to be, but I don't feel that way. I feel disposable, replaceable, forgettable.

Ughhhh, I can't just think like that though. No one decides my worth but me. I can stay strong and positive, but it's hard. How do you just find a place to belong? I'm so afraid of being just cut off from people. I've made many friends and I do have family members that I am close to, but I feel like I have to monitor myself all the time, like I can make one wrong move and then bam, that's it. They're gone. That's actually the main reason I refuse to drink alcohol. What if I say something that hurts someone or upsets them? What if they don't like me anymore? I've made poor decisions before and hurt people that I care about and I just can't do that again. It’s hard to be dismissive of these feeling and just stay positive, like I have to confront this at some point, but fuck if I know how to do that.