#it would be a jumbled mess of different things and i hate messy blogs i need my shit to be so organized

[oceanwithouthermoon]

i think its funny that i have a whole blog dedicated to exclusively saiki k stuff even though i literally live and breathe my little pony

[quarantingz]

contradictions, bitterness & my relationship with coffee.

4 april, saturday

11.10am

Appreciation for the day: the sweet sweet taste of parallelism *not relevant, but I’ll explain it later*

As I sit on my dusty-green carpet in the living room, back soaking in the warm morning sun streaming in through the tilted blinds, I try to focus on the blank document on my laptop. Which waits wide-eyed and curious for what I’ll write today. As usual, I do not know, but as is the journey of life, we’ll take it step by step and see where we end up :)

Which makes me think about contradictions, and how this Saturday morning has been nothing but bittersweet.

At 7.30am my mum made the rounds of my sister and I’s bedrooms by bounding in and waking us up for our family morning walk. Her face plastered with a heart-warming large smile, much like a dog ready for a walk. Because I slept at 2am watching Triple Frontier on Netflixparty with B, I arose groggily, bitter, but also a little bit excited. I pulled on my tights, wrapped my coat around my shoulders and stepped out the door with my equally tired family members at exactly 7.57am. Out before 8am (gotta celebrate the small things right?), the air was chilly but incredibly peaceful. We trekked through Kepa Bush Reserve, a six minute walk from ours, and appreciated the quiet and beauty of nature in our five-person walking train. The walk was long, but oh so sweet, despite the initial bitterness of such an early start - especially on a Saturday!

As I taught my mum various stretches back home and bonded over how good it felt to feel the pull and release of our tense muscles and joints, the term “bitterness” sank in and I was beginning to feel super positive for the day ahead. However, this feeling of bitterness became all the more applicable as the morning drew on.

After making questionable banana buckwheat pancakes on my mum’s random and insistent request, I am confronted by the jumble and mess of my thoughts and words currently on my screen.

Let me explain. As the demands of work are put on hold till Monday, my house seems more alive and bustling today. Although my music is turned up to the max through my headphones, this and my concentration battle with the noise around me. It competes with my mum’s obsession with sourdough, which she intends to make into a pizza base (who knew!) for tonight, and consequently, the sound of her mixer and the clink of kitchen appliances. My dad’s tablet is also on full volume, the description of the production of rockets in Alabama completely capturing his attention. My sister also flits in and out of the ranch slider, tending to her newly planted snow peas.

Don’t get me wrong, I love a noisy and lived-in household, but to be honest, I wanted some quiet I didn’t know I wanted for today. This is where bitterness sank in. A mix of gratefulness that this morning was agreeable, but now too also disgruntled. I missed and craved the segregated spaces my family and I have created for the past two weeks. And can’t help but miss the quiet “work weekdays” - a time and space where my thoughts can naturally flow onto the page. But as my sentences stop and start, halt and jerk, super awkward and chunky on the page, I think about what a mess my mind feels right now.

Which is why as I sip my incredibly below-average instant coffee I heated up in the microwave for one minute because I poured too much almond milk and took too long to start this entry, I think about my friend, coffee. Or rather the timeline of our relationship. From the moment I first laid eyes on coffee, incredibly bitter at first, to our decade-long evasion of one another, mutual of course. And to our eventual and unlikely friendship presently. A story mixing bitterness with sweetness. What a contradiction!

Let me begin by describing what began with a hand-to-mouth, gag-like reflex, nose scrunched kind of relationship, I’d like to think coffee and I have a very different relationship now.

I now live for a good coffee, without sugar and chocolate (but still with milk, almond specifically) and it wasn’t always like that. I used to hate the taste of coffee - the bitterness. But now I like this taste and almost consider it a sweet taste. It doesn’t actually taste sweet, but maybe it’s the feeling it gives me. The hope and promise of a productive and wholesome day.

I think this is a lot like our relationship with people. There is always the promise of a good relationship and hope that it will be better than another, or the last, or just better than it has ever been. But like coffee and I’s, it is a process. You learn how to talk better, interact better, love better and most importantly, understand better. And somehow, we stop taking people in our lives for granted - instead, we taste and see the “sweetness” that they bring into our lives - whether or not we want it or need it.

It comes with time and it comes with a change in tastebuds - maturity. I feel like this can also be a constant and regular process which can repeat in a circle of dislike and like, letdown and hope, bitterness and sweetness, over and over again.

Once again, this is more of a mind-dump and me trying to articulate what my thought for today is. I guess what I’m trying to say is that relationships are like coffee. A wake-up call you could say. Something bittersweet. Note the contradiction. Note the oxymoron between the two negative and positive terms. There is a natural push and pull that we may feel towards people.

I’ve come to realise relationships can be contradictory. And that is because humans are contradictive in general. Our own feelings and moods are contradictory. Which affects how we interact, feel, see and act towards people and the world as a whole.

So as you and I know now (I’m trying to understand just as much as you), this entry isn’t actually about coffee or my love for contradictions. Maybe not even about people and relationships! But actually, it is simply about how messy life is. How confusing, strange, contradicting everything can be. For example, feelings of confusion and fear contradicting that of hope and joy - which you may be feeling during this time. Contradicting like my initial bitter relationship with coffee and now the sweet fondness I have for it. Like the word bittersweet. Like this morning…And there you go, we’ve come full circle!

I could leave it at that, but I think I will leave you, maybe even more confused than you started off as, with this thought:

Life is confusing and messy yes, but bittersweet, and that’s okay.

Because then it would be boring :)

* okay, now for that explanation you waited the whole blog to read: prior to writing this I read Paulz’ entry and couldn’t help but chuckle with glee that she too wrote about one of her “relationships” (specifically with sleep, nature and her dog - which you should go READ HERE if you haven’t already!) and the fact she went on an 8am morning walk today is just…a sweet parallelism - hehe, maybe I should write about parallelism next aye pal? - a

[9 april, thursday]

Thought about parallelism more today and the conversation we had about it pal...I think parallelism is so relevant right now haha, because although we clarified that parallelism means two things align, but do not touch, isn’t it funny that that is exactly how things have ended up? The fact that so many things have happened beyond our control, and have aligned with one another so well, BUT we haven’t been in direct contact with each other for the past few weeks (social separation and iso and whatnot).

And coz we’re allllll about diagrams now, here’s one for you:

See we’re headed in the same direction, things have aligned, but social distancing makes parallelism so fitting. Haha, random thought I know, but I think it’s so funny now that I think about it!

[kurara-black-blog]

[Third Player] Chapter Three: Clones

Date: 06/10/18

Words: 2774

Warnings: Langst, torture, sexy times! (nothing explicit, though).

Tag: @moonsworllld ; @xarphay ; @skydisneylover ; @fangirlinguntildawn

A/N: I’ll tag you on future chapters if you ask! If you ask!

Previous: Connections

Next: Not Lance

THIS FIC HAS A ROLEPLAY BLOG!! Go talk with 3P!Lance!

“You’re very ungrateful, you know? I gave you a purpose and a name, and yet you bite my hand.”

Kuro glared at him, piercing hate in his eyes, and stayed silent. Lance sighed. He didn’t want to resolve to that—especially when he still lacked the skill level it would take—, but he guessed there was no other way. That clone was too much like Shiro, too stubborn and wired on what he believed was right. Approaching the larger man, he took notice how good the man looked on his knees, bound and helpless. Crouching down to the clone’s level, Lance touched his chest. Kuro flinched, mouth opened to let out some form of complaint.

What came out was a long, painful scream as Lance messed around with his quintessence.

Differently from his clone, who could only jumble quintessence, Lance had complete control over his power and what it did to others. He sent waves of pain into the clone’s body, knowing exactly what energy points to hit. Not bothered by the painful wails, Lance moved his hand to the man’s head, trying to avoid getting his fingers tangled in the long hair. Entering minds was something he was still learning to do, but desperate times needed desperate actions. He couldn’t let the clone be a threat to his plans, he didn’t need yet another enemy. Not at that moment. Especially another Shiro.

The clone’s mind was a mess, pain pulsating from end to end. Lance concentrated; he needed to find the memories. Ah, there. Right behind that door. Lance was met with memories upon memories. Shiro’s memories. From his time on the Coliseum, a prisoner being tested on by Haggar. Kuro’s memories, from when Lance had given him a name and an order—“Don’t leave me”—a few weeks prior until the moment that trying—again—to contact Voltron looked like a good idea. He could deal with them later; he had more pressing things to do. Walking further down the memory lane, the human found what he was looking for.

“Ah, so the message actually was made, just not sent... Good, good, it would be a hassle to have Voltron knocking on our doors right now.”

He grabbed the memory and destroyed it in between his hands. Immediately Kuro let another wave of loud cries. Taking his hand away from the man’s sweaty forehead, Lance severed the connection. He got up and walked to the door.

“Time to go see what mother wanted from me.”

Without sparing a single glance to the panting mess on the cold floor of the dark room, Lance walked out of the door and instructed the sentinel to only let him go near the room, long jacket flapping behind him.

“The problem was dealt with, mother.”

“It was the thing, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“If wasn’t for you, I would destroy it.”

“I know, mother, and I’m very grateful to you for not doing so.” Haggar still looked displeased, so he added. “He’s a very good practice dummy; I just erased one of his memories with success.”

“Oh?”

“It still brings some pain, though...” Then he smirked. “But it could also be my fault for playing with his quintessence as a punishment.”

Haggar laughed that full laugh of a proud mother. She looked younger when she laughed and Lance adored seeing his mother let go of her serious side and show her joy. He felt pride of himself every time the remembered she only did that with him. No one else, just him. He was the only one able to make her do that.

“Come, my boy, I have something for you.”

“Lead the way, mother.” He grinned, linking their arms.

The walk to the laboratory was slow and filled with low conversation. Lance told his mother what exactly happened with the clone, about the message it was trying to send and to who. Then he told her what succeeded in that unused dark room, how he had send an excruciating pain running inside the clone’s body and how he entered his mind. Told her about the memories and how he was able to easily extinguish the problematic memory. Haggar had pride in her smile. He felt his chest swell with warmth by seeing his mother be so proud of him.

“Your training is going tremendously well, my son. But what more to expect from you?”

“You flatter me, mother.”

The first thing he noticed entering the lab were the druids. The tall beings walking around, passing in between the experimentation tables and lab rats. The ones who caught his gaze bowed slightly in respect. Lance avoided looking at the instruments they were using, the mental injuries still too fresh. Haggar guided him to a door at the very back of the room. That was the room she kept all the experiments with cloning. What was his mother planning?

“I have something for you.”

“You’re spoiling me, mother.” She laughed softly, caressing his cheeks with one hand before opening the door.

There was a druid near the computer in the corner. In the middle of the room was a big tube filled with that same blueish glowing liquid. And floating inside the liquid was the last thing Lance expected.

“Keith?”

“If you want it to be.”

They entered the room together, the door closing behind them, and approached the tube. Keith—a clone, clearly, but still Keith—was peacefully sleeping, the heart monitor beeping with each heartbeat. Haggar explained how one of the sentinels back at the last base attacked was able to get DNA samples of the Red Paladin, a bit of blood from a cut no one noticed. It was enough to create one clone, but not enough to create a perfect replica. She had to “program” its personality and some other necessary information. Maybe not a perfect replica, but a perfect lookalike doll. Because of that, it would be less problematic that the Shiro one.

“The only things it is capable of feeling is a strong loyalty, a blind trust and a fierce obedience. All towards you, of course.” Haggar smirked. “But maybe you and your powers can actually make him feel something?”

Lance was speechless for a few seconds, absorbing all the information his mother just threw at him. His very own Keith. A Keith that would follow him to the end of the universe and back. And beyond. He smiled excitedly to the woman by his side.

“And when will he be ready?”

“It is already ready, that’s why we are here.”

With her hand, she gave the druid the signal to drain the liquid and open the tube. Soon a naked body was falling into Lance’s arms, the boy hugging it tenderly. Its head resting gingerly on his chest, its breath warm against his blue turtleneck.

“What should I call him? Kuro was easy, but I have no idea what to call this one.”

“How about a galra name? Yorak?”

“Yorak...” He tested the name in his tongue. The clone seemed to respond to it, turning his head up to stare directly at Lance. His eyes were incredibly purple as the original’s, but had that yellowish tint near the pupils. “Hello, Yorak.”

“My emperor...”

An amused glint showed itself on Lance’s eyes as he stared at his mother, the same glint in her eyes. God, he loved that woman. Pressing a quick kiss on her cheek, he lifted Yorak in his arms and carried him to his room, letting his mother know he was going to play a bit with his new pet. He had a half mind to cover the body in his arms with his jacket, he could not let anyone see his new treasure, now could he?

“Quiznack, I didn’t expect you to look so good sprawled on my bed.”

Lance marveled at the vision of Keith—Yorak—laying on his bed without a care in the world. Black hair messy and violet eyes focused solely on him. He was still naked—the Cuban’s jacket thrown somewhere on the floor—, and Lance had no intentions of changing that so soon. No, instead he took off the long-sleeved turtleneck—skintight and dark blue—, keeping only the black pants. He did so slowly; the boy on his bed wasn’t going to run unless the order was given. After taking off his shoes, Lance crawled over the clone’s body, relishing the warmth it provided. Legs each side of Yorak’s hips, hands firmly planted on each side of Yorak’s head, supporting the ex-paladin’s weight.

“Yorak…” Lance whispered and the clone blinked. “I’ll use my powers on you.”

“Yes, my emperor.”

“I’ll play with your emotions.”

“Yes, my emperor.”

“I’ll mess with your head.”

“Yes, my emperor.”

Lance could feel the shivers running down his spine thanks to the other’s compliance. He touched one of the clone’s cheeks, caressing it tenderly, almost lovingly. The pale skin was soft and flushed, looking ready to be bitten. Yorak’s breath fanned his face. Staring long and hard at the violet eyes, Lance searched for any hesitation, any worry, any signal of rejection. He found nothing, only the calm obedience, and the serene trust.

Would Lance be taking advantage of Yorak if he couldn’t do anything but obey? Was it truly consensual if one of them wasn’t able to deny the other? Was it wrong of him to take that boy for himself that way?

The bigger part of his brain told him that yes, it was wrong.

“I’ll give you the freewill to choose, Yorak, I’ll give you the chance to deny me in the future.”

“Yes, my emperor.”

Lance closed his eyes, connecting his quintessence with Yorak’s. He could feel the boy whimper and fidget; he wasn’t able to make the process painless yet. He tried to control the level of pain by sending a wave of calmness. In a few ticks, he found himself inside the other’s mind. It was lighter than Kuro’s and emptier too. He took a few steps, trying to control the flow of the energy so it wouldn’t be so painful for his pet. It was easier to maintain his power levels, probably because Keith’s clone—ironically—did not offer any resistance, differently from Shiro’s clone. If anything, his mind seemed to engulf Lance’s and cling to it, like a child greedily hugging a plushy.

Alas, Haggar wasn’t as good as she thought; the clone was very much able to feel many things. Just in a weaker intensity.

It was ok, Lance understood. Everyone made mistakes.

And, besides, that made everything easier.

Lance watched the string of emotions float around him. Different minds took different forms, textures and tastes, Kuro’s looked a lot like the Castle of Lions, Lance’s clone’s was too cold and dark—he suspected it was that planet—and Yorak’s looked like what Lance thought an Astral Plane or a mindscape would look like. A vastness filled of white. Thoughts, memories, feelings and personality traits floated around, some linked by thin strings. It wasn’t warm, but it wasn’t cold.

Gingerly touching one of the memories—seeing himself from Yorak’s eyes was quite the experience—, he almost missed the sudden jerk of the clone’s body. Lance finally gave the feelings some attention when one shined brighter than the rest.

“Pleasure?”

Pleasure.

Pleasure was what Yorak was feeling, what Lance mistook for pain. Unconsciously the Cuban avoided the pain by sending pleasure in its place.

“It seems I either provoke extreme pain or extreme pleasure… Definitely need to learn how to control this…” Lance mumbled, watching the feeling pulsate, feeling the body under him squirm. “Ugh, I can’t not look at this.”

Leaving the clone’s mind, Lance opened his eyes in time to see Yorak close his mouth, as if trying to swallow the sounds that certainly wanted to leave him. Concentrating, Lance send another wave of energy—the same energy he was using while on Yorak’s mind—through his hands—that had moved to hold the black-haired boy’s waist—and the reaction was instantaneous. The boy jolted, eyes tightly closed, lips parting to let a long, strangled moan, back arching, hard member poking Lance’s belly.

“Now that’s a view.”

“M… My emperor…”

“You want more, pet?” The other nodded shamelessly, eager to feel that once more. “Tell me, pet. Tell me who’s pleasuring you?”

Another wave, another moan.

“You! My emperor!”

“And who do you belong to?”

Another wave, a choked scream.

“You, m-my emperor!”

“And who’s the only one allowed to do this to you?”

Another wave, a broken sob.

“Only you, my emperor…!”

“Scream for me, pet.”

And he did. With a stronger wave of pure, unaltered pleasure, Yorak was turned into a screaming mess. Arms clutching Lance’s shoulders, head thrown back and opened mouth. He looked delicious with tears gathering on his eyes. His hips were desperately trying to get some friction, jerking irregularly in hopes of relief.

“No, pet, you’ll come without me touching you.”

Yorak came with a scream that probably would prevent him from talking for some time, with painting him and Lance. His eyes rolled back, mouth hanging out of his mouth, droll and tears mixing in the bedsheets. A few seconds of blissed out rigidness and he fell limp in the bed.

“Passed out… It seems I overdid it a bit.”

Yorak was still peacefully sleeping on Lance’s bed when said boy came back with an also sleeping Kuro in his arms. Lance did a quick work of putting the bigger man on the bed in the corner of his spacious room and taking off the cuffs. He gently massaged the red skin of Kuro’s wrists, like a silent request for forgiveness. With a sigh, Lance shackled his leg to the bed leg.

Once he was sure Kuro was comfortable, Lance turned to his much larger bed, where a now awake, but sleepy Yorak watched him silently.

“Hello, doll.”

A blush coated the clone’s cheeks. He looked extremely cute in one of Lance’s blue turtlenecks, sitting in the middle of blood red sheets and white pillows. Lance didn’t particularly like the sheets, but he needed to change them after his experiments with the other. Sleeping in a sticky bed is never a good idea.

Sleeping sticky in any way is never a good idea.

According to Lance.

“Sorry I had to leave you, doll… How about a bath? We both need one after what was done.”

Yorak nodded, the coding of his mind translating the words as orders. The human sighed; it would have to be enough for the time. Soon, he promised himself, soon Yorak will be agreeing with him at his own accord. While that didn’t happen, he would satisfy himself with provoking the feelings and personal traits inside his pretty dolls mind and making him squirm in pleasure.

“I’ll prepare the bath.”

He turned to go to his bathroom, not noticing the glare Yorak send Kuro.

Kuro let a few grunts escape his throat before opening his eyes. He had a vague memory of a burning pain running through his veins and a soothing humming luring him to sleep. Groaning, he sat up. His hazy mind took a second to understand his hands weren’t cuffed together anymore, but one of his legs was shackled to the bed’s leg. His mind took another second to notice he was back at Haggar’s son’s room. Speaking of him...

“I was starting to get worried.”

Kuro looked at the biggest bed in the room where Lance was sitting with a longhaired Keith on his lap, dressed in Lance’s clothes.

“Keith?”

“Not quite. His name is Yorak, mother just gave him to me.”

Kuro snorted. He was about to make a snide remark about Haggar when Keith turned around and glared at him. Violet eyes filled with contempt. Keith snuggled more on Lance’s body, arms tightly wrapped around his neck. Lance chuckled.

“He doesn’t appreciate people trying to be mean to me.” The boy smirked, letting his long fingers caress the bare skin of the clone in his lap. “How are you feeling?”

“What happened?”

“You don’t remember?” Lance stared at him for some long seconds, searching for something. “You tried to attack me and I used my powers on you without meaning to.” Lance sighed. “Sorry about that, by the way, but it was a reflex and you attacked first.”

Conversation died. Lance started humming while playing with Yorak’s hair. Kuro eventually laid down and let the soft lullabies bring sleep back to him. His head throbbed. He had that nagging feeling of having forgotten something.

Something important.