#she's become a much calmer person- compared to what she went through everything else just seems inconsequential. And it's not like Rant had

[sprawa-przybyszewskiej]

I would like to present (extremely briefly; it's more of an invitation to their thoughts rather than anything else) two approaches that touch on a creative technique used by Przybyszewska, which has been spotted by some of her scholars, albeit each in its own way. Ewa Graczyk maintains that Przybyszewska did not write a historical drama in any way, but rather described a completely different reality, an universum in which the same events happen, but which doesn't take place on Earth, with us in it. She describes, then, something which I call The French Revolution', taking after mathematics' nomenclature. Kazimiera Ingdahl, on the other hand, spots traces of gnostic and manichean ideologies in Przybyszewska's writing, which, as we all know, are based solidly on the contrast between Heaven and Hell, knowledge and numbness, soul and mind. I mention them here solely to point out there is a dualism in her works, it is important and easily recognizable.

I have nowhere near the amount of erudition these scholars do, so I will constrict myself to some more visible matters. In my previous post about Antoine, I've made a remark that stuck with me for far longer than I had expected, and so I decided to elaborate on it.

The passage I'm talking about is this: because it could potentially reveal Saint-Just as another Danton-like minded individual, looking for power for himself through sacrifices of others. I want to explore whether Przybyszewska really did construct both of them alike?

To me it appears very probable, as crazy as it sounds. First of all, ALL of the personages are created in some reference to Robespierre. He is the only singular, original mind amongst them all, not to mentoin an axis around which other revolve, and so all of them, whether we like it or not, are somewhat similar to each other. Second of all, she clearly went in the direction of mirroring certain scenes, ideas, expressions (which I personally love to track down and compare them later), and it's exactly the same when talking about certain individuals. The two pairs (Robespierre – Saint-Just and Danton – Desmoulins) come to mind right away. They are constructed as parallels at least in some aspects and at least to some extent.

Wouldn't that, however, put Saint-Just and Desmoulins on the same/similar level, aren't they the ones who creat a parallel pair? Well, yes and no. I think they are a unit when it comes to personal matters, for rather obvious reasons. But I also think they are both put in similar situations, and yet their thinking is polar opposite of each other. They are both allowed to Robespierre's most personal sphere, and yet their reactions are completely different, which is one among the reasons as to why one of them meets a sad end by all accounts, and the other can die somewhat happy (as I will always mantain: if Przybyszewska managed to finish Thermidor, I am one hundred percent sure she would depict Antoine as one dying boldly and proudly, if only beause he died for a great cause and alongside Robespierre). On the other hand, spiritually and mentally, Camille resembles Maxime way, way more than Danton. They are both... maybe not exactly soft, but emotional. The main difference between them is Maxime is able to rein his feelings in when necessary (again, not always, not completely; vide his late night visit at Desmoulins', vide his attempt and saving him from the Luxembourg Palace), but as far as differences go, this one is actually minor. They are put in different positions, but their reactions are similar.

I would also wager to say Saint-Just and Robespierre don't have that much in common with each other in the plays, leaving out their political stances and their relationship. They are very different in terms of character traits: Maxime is more forgiving, calmer, quieter in all aspects. Antoine is more of a quicksilver, and also is regarded more as a tool in Maxime's hands, which I mean in the best way possible. While he has his own opinions, sometimes quite different to that of Robespierre's, he only entertains them in Maxime's presence, so that no one can put a splinter between them and turn them against each other. When they are turned against each other (during their quarrels, yes, but also during Thermidor, which is a beautiful study of such a case), he defers to Maximilien humbly and holds no grudges against him. This is pretty much the only soft side he ever presents to the audience, for when facing any other characters, he is sarcastic  if not downright hostile, the only exception I can think of being Eleonore. He's not gentle, not even with Robespierre whom he respects so much.  (I cannot get over how badly Wajda interpreted this in his movie, where in his very first scene Antoine brings Maxime an apple-tree branch in full blossom; while a sweet gesture, it made little sense, for the director not only didn't establish their special bond in any way, cutting their very important scene in Act II and a lot of their exchange of words in Act V out, but completely ignored the fact that in the play they did talk about trees blossming, but it was Maxime who pointed this out to Antoine. Honestly, it would make much more sense if in the movie he was the one giving Antoine flowers; altough I don't trust it would be executed well, so perhaps the best scenario would be to drop it altogether.)

This leaves Antoine and Danton as the unlikely pair. Here I wouldn't necessarily say they are put in different positions (following my train of comparison), because – depending on if you believe the confrontation between Danton and Robespierre to be honest or not – there is enough evidence in the play to mantain both of them want to  establish power over nation through Robespierre. Danton is the villain of the play, but he isn't blind, he too wants to use Maximilien as a face of the dictature, as a tool to obtain more "normal" power for himself (normal power here would equal to money, respect, high office; the "abnormal" power is what Robespierre sort-of-dreams-of, an influence over people to direct them into doing what is necessary for the good of the whole of the nation, or better yet, the world). And Antoine wants more or less the same thing, the exception being he doesn't care at all for personal gains. He doesn't necessarily believe in Robespierre's visions of the future, one could even argue he doesn't understand them (this is clearly shown in Thermidor, where he reacts with a headache once Robespierre unfolds his plan in front of him: Stop it, Maxime. I can't keep up with you anymore.); he does, however, see the neccesity of establishing the dictature or some other extraordinary mean to obtain the total power over the state. Both he and Danton are blessed with a far-fetching political vision, the only thing differentiating them from Robespierre is that he's a much more brilliant chess player than any of them, when they can see few moves forward, he's already seen all the possible outcomes of the match. And all of these outcomes are bad, for Maxime is characterised as a pessimist, while Antoine and Danton are, generally speaking, optimistically inclined. Youthful foolishness indeed, except Antoine is not foolish! He's just optimistic. In Danton, the optimism takes a form of boldness and bravado, in Saint-Just it manifests as an unwavering faith in the one he considers to be so much more superior to himself, and also a certain amount of contempt for the ones he considers to be inferior. This is another trait he shares with Danton, and we have to admit, Przybyszewska did a really good job at presenting the same trait in them both in such different ways, that we like one, hate the other.

There is also the matter of how they treat Camille and what they think of him. Here, both are jealous, I think. Jealous of the special place Camille has in Robespierre's heart, scornful of his abilities as a politician and a journalist, disinclined to him as a person. Danton cares for him as far as his utility in being a leverage on Robespierre goes, but I don't think he hoards any warm feelings for him personally, and I don't say it only because he was willing to sacrifice Camille purely out of spite. A much better example to show what I mean is that Danton seems to have a much better functioning, more honest and professional relationship with Delacroix than with Camille, whom he keeps in the dark about absolutely everything from start to finish. I don't know if it was meant to be a symbol or not, but in their very last scene in the jail cell, Camille has to beg Danton not to snuff out the candle, which Danton does, albeit very reluctantly. In turn, Saint-Just talks about Camille in language dripping with contempt and jealousy of purely personal kind, offending him left and right, right to Robespierre's face – not to hurt Maxime, but to "open his eyes", so to speak. In one particularly harsh sentence he compares Camille to a dog, a child and a prostitue all in one breath. He not only doesn't regard him as an opponent, but barely recognizes him as a human being worth respect, in which he is sadly very similar to Danton.

Weirdly enough, they both regard Maximilien as human, which I think is interesting to notice. It would be really easy to write them in such a style that leaves way for them to see Robespierre as something more, something almost extraterrestrial, somebody who posseses abilites greater than normal humans do. And yet:

The first image is from The Last Nights of Ventose, my own translation, and it's directly from Antoine's compassionate speech. I didn't include Robespierre's response, because he just deflected, but deflection does mean he doesn't fully agree, so it's yet another similarity.

One more thing that comes to mind in a comparison like this is that Danton threatens Robespierre with the ultimate power. He doesn't think that Maxime will be able to live with it, with himself, if he ever decides to go this one step futher and become a dictator. Is this is because he wouldn't be able to live with himself, or does he truly underestimate Maxime, or he simply wants to make sure Maxime would not go in this direction precisley because he knows he would then be ustoppable? How very telling then, that in Antoine's mouth the very same thing is not a threat, but a promise! This ultimate power is born out of necessity, and it's a grace for the whole nation, because no other person could bear the weight of this "crown", but Maxime.

The main difference between Saint-Just and Danton, I think, is something which we have to believe, it's not written clearly anywhere, and this is also the thing I briefly touched uppon in the aforementioned post: we have to believe that Antoine has pure intentions, because we sure know Danton does not. These were the embers fueling the suspiscion in Maxime when he couldn't understand why Antoine would possibly push for the dictature so much – is his heart pure? This sounds overly dramatic, perhaps, but I think this dramaticism aligns perfectly with Maxime's overall characterisation. I think all readers believe in his good intentions, and the parallels constructing the characters help immensely in this judgement, for if Danton is rotten to the core, Antoine is as steady and pure as a marble column. Robespierre even calls one a pig, while the other deserves to be named an Apostle of liberty.

There is, however, another similarity between them, too. Both Antoine and Danton are willing to be dishonest in order to achieve their goals. This is this one thing that's hard for Robespierre to swallow, for he – like Camille – values honesty really highly and if he could, he'd always act honestly. Saint-Just, not to mention Danton, has no such scrupules. He sees the greater necessity as something erasing all other circumstances, and for this greater picture he is willing to sacrifice some of his integrity as a human being. With Danton, the situation is even less complex, for I don't believe he would be sacrificing his integrity in any way – this dishonesty lays at his very core and comes natural to him.

The arguments Saint-Just presents, and which differs from Robespierre's point of view, are also different from that of Danton's. Danton's vision of the present is filled with contempt for the people, for the masses who are less brilliant than him and few others are. It is worth noting that Przybyszewska really did think like this, this is something she believed in and while reading Danton's speeches in Act II Scene 3, what we actually hear is her own train of thoughts. The only difference is that she didn't disdain the people they way he did. She thought that being a mass, an unnamed pulp of flesh is not a bad thing (it was perhaps unfortunate, and I am sure thinking she was a genius like Robespierre helped her in maintainign this view). Base material is a nourishment for those who will lead these masses. We – the lesser people – are absolutely necessary for them – the greater ones – so that they can lead us out of the night and into the new epoch of enlightement, and there is nothing humiliating in being this nourishment/tool/base. Danton understood it only partially, for he wasn't ready for the greatest sacrifice of all: to be a genius, one has to get rid of everything personal, all needs and desires must be kept aside, and never again spoken of. Robespierre understood it, and I think Antoine did too. I think the best evidence for it is that he said, that he doesn't consider himself to be Robespierre's equal. Recently I hoped to prove it was a silent declaration of love; now I want to point out it is one because it showed Robespierre that Antoine understood this great sacrifice one has to make in order to be a leader, and in his own way, he has already done this. He has brushed aside personal vain and glory, his amour-propre, he degraded himself in order to magnify Maxime's importance. Danton may say: It's you whom I adore, but it is Antoine who shows it through his actions as well as his words.  

[minteaventi]

Venti & the Seelies

Summary ➙ The Traveler shows off their new pet Seelies to their party members, but not everyone is excited to meet them. 

Word count ➙ 1,396

Theme ➙ Light angst

Warnings ➙ Alcohol mention, spoilers to Venti’s story.

“Look at what I got everyone!” The Traveler said, slamming the door of Mondstadt’s bar, Angel’s Share, open. There their teammates were gathered, from Mondstadt to Liyue, drinking and enjoying their night together. The Traveler gleamed when everyone glanced towards them and they plopped their bag onto the table, taking out three crystal ball-like objects. Once opened, three small Seelies of different colors flew out: blue, pink, and yellow. The room gazed in amazement at the Traveler’s Seelies, “They’re our new pets—they’re here to travel with us! Let’s welcome them to our team!” The Traveler smiled as their teammates and the Seelies began to become acquainted with one another.

The blue Seelie flew around the room, making sure to pause in front of every person in the room to be admired. This Seelie was quite outgoing and enjoyed the attention of everyone.

The pink Seelie seemed a little shy at first but soon warmed up after seeing how welcoming everyone was and the boundless energy of the blue Seelie spread to the pink. They seemed to be fonder of those that had a calmer, cooler nature, enjoying their time with the likes of Qiqi, Albedo, and Keqing.

The yellow Seelie was a bit more aloof than the others but slowly floated over to those with wealth, such as Tartaglia, Ninguang, and Xingqiu.

However, one person was not partaking in the meet-and-greet. He stood off in a corner silently, taking a sip of his drink as he watched everyone else. The Traveler noticed that someone was missing, and glanced over to where he stood, “Venti, come here and meet them!”

He looked down at his drink, “Um, no, I’m alright here, thanks.”

“C’mon,” the Traveler left the others to enjoy the Seelies as they went over to Venti. They grabbed his arm, causing him to set his drink down on a nearby table as they tried to pull him over to the middle of the room where the Seelies were circling. “You’re going to love them I promise. Out of everyone I figured you’d have the most fun with them.”

“I... don’t want to... I mean, I don’t think... I don’t know...” He mumbled, trying to stop the Traveler dragging him over to the others by digging his heels into the wooden floor; however, the Traveler didn’t seem to notice his resistance nor his change in attitude.

No one else had noticed the two except Paimon, “Um, Paimon thinks you shouldn’t... ah, you’re ignoring Paimon again, of course.” She muttered, shrugging in defeat.

“I was thinking about it the whole way here! The blue one certainly matches your personality, but the pink one would enjoy your musical abilities, and the yellow would certainly be a fan of your clothing—although probably not your way with Mora…”

Venti yanked his arm away, causing the Traveler to stumble forward, nearly falling to the ground. “I said no!” He shouted before biting his lip, noticing that everyone quieted down and were now looking at him. Usually, the spotlight was something Venti aimed for, but not today.

“Venti? What’s wrong? You’re acting so... different.” The Traveler muttered.

“You finally noticed? And you make fun of Paimon for being clueless.” Paimon muttered, rolling her eyes.

Venti rubbed the back of his head, “It’s nothing, it’s…” The blue Seelie flew over to the bard and his eyes widened at just the sight and closeness of the being. He took a step back, arms now wrapped around himself, and the Seelie got closer, doing a somersault in the air. It waited for Venti to applaud, but instead, the young bard shook his head before running out of the bar.

“Venti!

The Traveler barreled after him through the nighttime streets of Mondstadt; however, they lost track of him, coming to a stop at the fountain in the middle of the city, breathing rapidly. They glanced all around, wondering where he could have gone to before realizing where he would’ve gone in Mondstadt. They headed towards their usual spot and, upon climbing the statue of Barbatos, they found him sitting on the statue’s outstretched hands, their body curled up, their arms wrapped around their legs, and a strange sound could be heard coming from him, it almost sounded like...

He was crying.

The Traveler knelt behind him, “What’s wrong?” They asked, placing a hand on his back.

He stayed silent for a moment before lifting his head, wiping the tears off his cheeks. “The Seelies, especially the blue one... reminds me of us.” He choked out the words, his voice failing him for once.

“Us...?”

“The bard... and me... back then...” He whispered through sobs, glancing up at the stars in the sky, past memories flooding his mind once again—memories of him as nothing more than spirit on the wind, playful and friendly, just like the Seelies, meeting a human for the first time, a human who would become his best friend; the likeness was too much.

“Oh, Venti...” The Traveler gasped, finally realizing they hadn’t taken his feelings into consideration, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize, I didn’t even think about your feelings, only my own.”

“It’s alright, I forgive you. I know you were just excited to show me them, maybe a little too excited, huh?” He giggled, although it was a solemn sound compared to his usual gleeful laughter. “I just can’t... still, after all this time I can’t get over him...” He looked back down, burying his face in his hands, “I wish I could forget, but not even all the wine in the world could make me forget him.”

The Traveler paused before wrapping their arms around him, hugging him from behind. “Forgetting wouldn’t be healthy.”

“It would make everything so much easier.”

“It would, but easier isn’t always better. Forgetting him would mean you would forget all the good times you two spent. You would forget what you and he stood for, what you both did to free the city, what you both dealt with together. You would be forgetting a friend and a part of yourself.”

While the Traveler spoke, they noticed Venti’s shoulders beginning to shake again. They gently squeezed a little tighter in their hug, burying their face in his back before he let out a loud sob; one that made the surrounding winds shudder at their Archon’s sorrow. Slowly, though, both he and the winds began to become silent. Slowly, he leaned back against the Traveler, who still had their arms wrapped around him. The two stayed there in silence for a while, looking at the night sky, enjoying the silent company that the other gave. Finally, the Traveler broke the silence.

“It’s ok to be sad and mourn, you know? It’s ok to talk to others and tell them how you’re feeling.” 

“I know. It just doesn’t feel like I should, though. Everyone expects me to be happy, to be fun-loving, to be as free and uncaring as the wind.” 

“No one expects that of you. Sorrow and mourning are a part of living, we all go through it.” The Traveler closed their eyes, a wistful thought of their sibling crossing their mind, “I’m here for you, we are all here for you, ready to listen when you need someone to talk to.”

“... Thank you. I... I’m ready to head back, I’m ready to meet the Seelies.”

“Want to glide there?”

“Yes, please.”

~

“They’re back!” Paimon shouted, causing everyone to glance towards the door as the two walked in. They were met with a barrage of questions, asking if they were alright, asking if something was wrong, etc. The Traveler tried to answer everything, the clamoring of voices overlapping each other all at once, but everyone quieted down when the blue Seelie floated over to Venti. 

Venti looked at it, and the Seelie stayed as still in the air as possible. “Hey, buddy.” He said, holding out his hand for the Seelie to rub against, “You remind me of... well, me a long time ago.” He chuckled softly, still sorrow in his voice, “You made me recall a lot of old memories, but... that’s ok. Memories are important, even the sad ones.” He muttered, and the Seelie floated around Venti’s head, and the bard smiled, “Here, let me sing to you about an old friend.”

[felswritingfire]

First Parent up is Horkeu Kamui! I hope these satiates those who requested for him for a bit, I’m still getting a feel for his character! 

Under the cut for length!

Word Count: 2429 

Horkeu Kamui

IF YOU WANTED TO HAVE/RAISE BABIES, HE’D BE SO HONORED ABOUT IT

He’d probs go off into a spiel about it and you’d have to sit through this hour long talk of him shooting off about how humbled he is that “you’ve chosen this Horkeu Kamui to sire your children, my Hero- it is the highest honor-”

He’d probs end up with with three little babies, all of them boys, the oldest is two years older than the twins and all of them are extremely overprotective of you when they get older

He’s ecstatic when you bring home your first boy. He’s always been enamored with the thought of a family and now here’s the start of one with his beloved hero. He’s honestly euphoric about it 

You’d think that he'd be an amazing dad with zero problems since he’s had a history of raising heroes- but, here’s the thing, he has zero clue how babies work because when he gets the heroes, they’re usually all older then, you know, little kiddos. So when you hand him your guys’ first boy for the first time, he just, let’s him lay in his arms too afraid to move because what if he drops him????

You have to lead him by the hand for a bit, which he’s a little embarrassed about, real talk, until he gets the hang of it- which he does, he gets it real quick

He’ll try his best with diapers, but,,, my guy- the dude has a sniffer, what, 100xs better than ours??? So like, he’s coming out of that shit (haha) with tears in his eyes and a migraine. So I suggest you doing it just to spare him and then just comfort him afterward, because a Kamui who’s in pain is… well, painful to see

He does everything else tho!

He loves dressing your babies up in general! He gets these really cute baby clothes that Bathym designed just for your babies, even tho your first boy would always give him grief about wearing clothes- which killed Kamui because he hates doing stuff that makes your babies uncomfy (he’s really soft for them- like extremely soft for them) 

Your twins tho, love wearing the clothes and he actively sends pictures of them to Bathym who literally flips his lid everytime 

Your older one will try to pull said clothes off of them any chance he gets though, in his two year old words: “Trapped!”

Kamui is distressed and you laugh at his distress, which just distresses him even more because:

“My Hero, are you taking a video of this?” “Yes” You say as you continue to hold up your phone, a bright smile on your face. 

He’s struggling with pulling your biggest boy off of your youngest son who’s fighting to keep his shirt on.

With your guys’ babies, they slept in their crib until they started figuring out how to crawl out of it (especially when they all respectively start walking) to get to you guys; you thought that this was just going to be a trend with your first born- but no, he started breaking out the twins and you two almost shit when you both woke up when you felt shifting on the end of the bed that ended up crawling up until your guys’ chest, Kamui tensing, and then you two open your guys’ eyes and there’s three sets of sparkling eyes staring down at you. Suffice to say, Kamui almost launched your boys into the ceiling until he realised who they were. Which they were giggling all the while, your oldest holding the other two up by their waists, until your youngest yawned and flopped down in between you two. And then your middle boy went right after and then your oldest boy rolled your middle out of the way and squashed him up to your youngest, proceeding to curl up against Kamui’s side and knocked out

You and Kamui looked at each other until you shrugged and grabbed the blanket at the end of your bed and pulled it over the boys before you snuggled deeper into the blankets. Kamui promptly followed your lead

When they turn to toddlers, Kamui starts to teach them all how to fight since he wants his boys to be able to protect themselves (and you)

Your first born is, of course, two years ahead of them in his training compared to the twins so he takes it upon himself to help them when they need it so that their papa doesn’t have to worry about them too much, which Kamui is so proud of him for

When he he first took them to the Berserkers colosseum- they uprooted EVERYTHING because all of the gladiators went bat shit crazy when they met the babies; nobody went to do any of the fights, they were all derailed because everyone wanted to say hi to the boys

Kamui was a little worried about his oldest because he almost bit Claude’s hand when he tried to touch his youngest brother, but Claude just laughed it off and started into a spiel about how he would make a great gladiator for the Berserkers one day!

It all changed when he noticed Snow and he screamed and rushed to hug his leg. Snow was shocked and Kamui was trying to pry him off his leg all while saying “Apologies, I should have warned you all, he loves lions and other such big cats.” 

Snow was so flattered that day

The boys are enamored with Pollux and they cheer every time he’d show off his punches, your middle thinks he’s one of the coolest things ever and wants to learn how to punch like him 

Bathym already knows the boys but he’s still so excited to see them and he shows off his moves too, which the oldest tries to copy but he refuses to let go of Snow’s pant leg so he ends up slipping and almost falling but there’s, like, four different sets of hands shooting to keep him from falling; but your youngest is hoping around and toddling towards Bathym and Bathym is MELTING. He ends up holding him the entire time that Kamui is there with them 

They meet Nomad and Macan and your oldest is determined to hold onto all of the cat therians; Nomad complains as he lets him hold onto his pant leg too- Macan he has to be convinced a bit more. “Hah? You wanna get eaten, kid?” 

“Not if I eat you first!”

Kamui almost shit until Macan laughed and wrapped his tail around his arm (which left him sparkly eyed) and said: “you can’t even if you tried.”

Your middle boy noticed this and decided to grab onto papa’s tail and Kamui almost died

All three end up meeting Garmr and they are IN LOVE with him and Garmr gets all the pets and love he could ever want 

They’re all sad to leave and the Berserkers force Kamui to make a promise to bring the three babies back

Kamui is happy too because now he has like, 20 different babysitters. Score.

When they hit the tween years, your oldest is very boisterous and energetic, he bounces off the walls and you have no idea which one of you he got that from. Your other two are very calm, though your youngest is the shyest out of your boys

Your oldest boy is very popular and definitely joins a sports club, something like football, but he definitely goes into wrestling if they have that  (he practices with Uncle ‘Suke who makes him a mask for him, but instead it’s wolf themed). He’s protective of his brothers and the people he cares for, so he doesn’t put up with any bullying on his watch. He will square up if he has too, but it usually doesn’t have to come to that because he’s pretty chill by the end of it 

The oldest comes to Kamui when he needs help with emotional problems, which, might not be the best, but it also is an added oof for Kamui because your oldest has zero filter so when he asks why you have to pee into a girl to have a baby, Kamui almost DIES

  Your middle flits between you and Kamui, luckily he is not one to just hit you with any off the wall questions, so it’s all nice and relaxed when you answer his questions

The little one goes to you with any of his problems. Which can go either way because he’s very similar to Kamui with his social skills, so you’re sometimes sitting there blinking at him trying to figure out how to answer a question 

The boys at this point are becoming more and more protective of you and they are determined to keep you safe and happy. Like, any person even thinks about flirting with you- they’re getting three tweens in their face and it’s terrible because they could all snap a man’s back over their knee and they’re only, what? 13 and 11 respectively (they are huge baby bois, adopted or not) 

Your twins are both much calmer than their older brother, they’re also much closer to their dad’s disposition too, so they tend to be closer to wall flowers- or at least they try; their big brother drags them into the spotlight a lot because he talks about them ALL THE TIME- so they have to put up with their brother’s rambunctiousness a lot

All three of them have a tendency to get in trouble together, your oldest usually runs head first into things while the other two are trying their hardest to get him to not do what he wants to do

There was this one time you and Kamui had to go and get them at three in the morning because your oldest dragged the boys into, what they thought was an abandoned fake haunted house, and your youngest twin called you in near tears as he quickly screeched that: “THE HOUSE IS ACTUALLY HAUNTED- THE HOUSE IS ACTUALLY HAUNTED- MOM/DAD/NANO- COME AND GET US-” And then the message cut out at the sound of your oldest son screaming bloody murder and your oldest twin… also distantly screaming: “DAD. COME AND GET US-” You also heard some… growling??? And more screaming????? You think???? Anyway- you almost shit, and since you were in the living room at the time and Kamui was in your guys’ little home gym you both ended up almost running into each other trying to get out of the house and into the fucking car- 

So, you two get there, ready to murder someone- when you see all three of your boys sitting in front of said “haunted house” just to see Benten of all people yelling at them with Ebisu holding his face in his hands; turns out Benten also thought that the house is haunted and decided to go in their for a video, she also dragged the poor man into it too, and they ended up bumping into a dresser and knocking it over, which set off the boys which caused your son to start swinging, which kicked up a whole bunch of dust, almost got Ebisu punched in the face, and caused Benten to start swinging as well-

Long story short, they were very grounded after that 😔😔😔

By the time they get into high school, your oldest is still loud and boisterous but he’s already on the verge of getting a scholarship for his football and Wrestling and the twins have really committed to their passion: which is MUSIC!

Your oldest twin is in band and plays the French Horn, but he also plays the violin and Bass (Kamui really likes the bass so he learned how to play it just for him ); while your youngest is in choir! Him and his brother get together and do a mini concert just for you two and their older brother- who cried whenever they first played, he was so proud

Their older brother still brags about his little family- it’s actually gotten worse

All of his friends know almost everything about you guys, it’s kinda freaky tbh

Also, you will never forgive Kamui for instilling the instinct to protect you with their lives because they really take their job seriously 

There was this one time where your oldest brought one of his friends over and, aw, poor boy had a big ol’ crush and you and almost got chucked through a window when he tried to be smooth with you by three different giant boys

Kamui just sat with a serene smile on his face as he flipped some pancakes- he’s such a little shit, you swear-

Your boys still like to be near your guys despite being older- like they prefer sticking to you guys than going with their friends

UM, YOUR BOYS TRAIN- despite the boys not focusing on a fighting career or anything of the sort, they still like to be able to stand on par with their big brother so they can help him train- WITH THE RANKERS AND CLAUDE HAD TO REALLY SELL YOU TWO ON IT TO LET HIM TRAIN WITH MACAN BECAUSE, BRO, IF MACAN HURT YOUR BOYS HE WAS GONNA BE TURNED INTO A TIGER RUG BY THE BOTH OF YOu

But he’s actually a really good teacher??? Which shook the fuck out of both of you (and Nomad) 

Speaking of that, your oldest likes training with him, Snow and Nomad the most, while your oldest twin likes training with Pollux and your youngest likes learning from Bathym the most and has some scary ass kicks now 

When your boys do graduate, all of the Berserkers are there to see it and Kamui is so proud of them- he’s not one to cry but he will have this super proud smile on his face and he’ll bring his boys into his arms and squeeze them real tight- your oldest is full on sobbing because he doesn’t want to leave you guys for college; the twins are also sobbing because they don’t want to leave, but they end up going to the same college as their older brother (who is excited AS FUCK ABOUT IT) 

Another really good dad, I think he’d be really fulfilled by the end of it all- he loves his boys to death and he’s so happy you chose to have a family with him- he’s just- ah- so good

[mc-critical]

Who do you think, out of the entire MC franchise, would you say was the best mother? I would honestly have to say Mahidevran since she was so nurturing and compassionate towards Mustafa (I loved their scenes together) and you could tell Mustafa’s safety always came first to her. What are your thoughts?

No mother of the franchise is perfect and as I’ve said before, there is no way mothers in the harem can develop a completely healthy (as we know it) relationship with their children. Still, I appreciate the various types of mothers we saw in MC/K and I usually love the scenes they have with their sons and/or daughters, since they enrich the characters and give them more humanity and depth.

I think I’ll also put Mahidevran as the best mother of the franchise. To be fair, one important writing advantage she possesses over the rest is that her relationship with Mustafa is probably the most fleshed out mother-son relationship of the entire franchise - we saw it develop in the span of four seasons and we saw every possible side of it. Mahidevran’s motherhood is a very vital aspect of her character: her love for Mustafa has always been there ever since her introduction and after she lost SS, Mustafa was all she had left. Everyone around her encouraged her to focus only on him and his upbringing. That didn’t seem so easy for a person who had yet to adapt to the immediate changes of her life and to accept the loss of a person that has undoubtedly been very important to her, but Mustafa has been there with her in every step of the way and the support they gave each other as early as S01 was very profound and human and I couldn’t help but tear up many times. And most remarkably, when she put her past in Manisa behind, when she truly focused the most on Mustafa, Mahidevran’s motherhood became a powerful indicator of her character development and I truly can’t think of another mother who evolved this beautifully.

Mahidevran has very strong motherly instincts outside of Mustafa and I loved how she saved Mehmet, the care she took of Mihrimah during the Janissary rebellion and the understanding she provided when Mehmet was struck with the arrow in E75. Hürrem also had equally strong motherly instincts during the same rebellion as well and I admire her for it, but one could argue it’s a little more surprising for Mahidevran to show them in such a way - back in S01, pre-E16, she didn’t seem to show signs that she could take care of the children of her enemy like that. Not many people would expect a person who has wished Hürrem’s death in her childbirths to do that at all. And yet she did. Once she saved Mehmet, we found out that she didn’t want the children’s deaths at all, even though she did make an attempt on Hürrem’s life when she was pregnant out of hurt and desperation. In fact, Mahidevran’s hate for Hürrem seems to be unbreakable, to know no bounds, except when it concerns the children. Once that happens, this is the only time she’s ready to let go. These are the only times she could ever understand Hürrem. The one scene where she herself went to her in good terms, to the point of her trying to return her ring, happened after she found out Hürrem protected Mustafa. It is clear that children and motherhood are important to Mahidevran, so important they can become the most important things in her life, so important she can leave her enmity with Hürrem for that and that alone. And conversely, her hatred for Hürrem reached the strongest peaks when it concerned Mustafa, as well: once he was exiled to Amasya and once he died, respectively, giving her a whole new motive to live and seek justice from the hands of God.

The advices (E55 and E56 aside) she gave to Mustafa are Mahidevran at her most perceptive - she speaks both from heart and experience and does her best at nurturing and caring for her son, understanding his struggles the way no one else could. Mustafa seeking vast support from everyone comes as much from her as it does from Ibrahim (I’m referring to this scene in particular) and while that sure is a double-edged sword when it comes to Süleiman’s opinion, it did motivate Mustafa to give his all to be the best heir he can be and gave him a certain upper hand over his brothers. Her advices are also her at her most decisive - showing that at this point, she knows what she’s talking about and can easily sense danger and warn accordingly. She has gained a fair sense of paranoia when it comes to his safety (understandably enough) and that is a factor of her advices as well, but it proves that she can be careful, that she isn’t as naive as she may look and that it’s not that easy to deceive her as it may have seemed.

Interestingly enough, before Mahidevran fell out of love with SS, she was fighting with her own loss and winning SS back and her hurt over it may seem to have taken primacy over the advantages she has as a mother. In E10, her first thought was Mustafa when SS appeared dead. Even in E55, she begins to look at her own possible advantageous position that comes with Mustafa only after Valide reminded her that she has her son. The falling out of love has started to the point she can openly think of her own future, but her feelings for SS were still conflicted and she could freely remember all the good times with him and lament them before she considered standing up. Her arc was moving back and forth between Mustafa, Süleiman and her own independence before she completed the full transition and had the chance to embrace the comparatively calmer environment and take full hand on Mustafa. Which is why Mustafa not being a priority at all is exactly Mahidevran at her worst. Due to her will for revenge, it was him she detached from to the point of her not wanting to go to Manisa with him in order to finish her battle with Hürrem in the form of ruling the harem. That was the only moment where she considerably detached herself from one of her best virtues and arguably did the most mistakes, culminating in a definite loss, for that moment. But we can say this was a learning experience for her, the cathartic process that granted her an entirely new push in strength and made her both a better character and a better mother than ever.

Yes, Mahidevran isn’t the perfect mother and she could inadvertently put Mustafa in danger due to her own personal pride being wounded (E48), her tears that could sometimes turn into breakdowns (E23) definitely affected him a lot to the point he was constantly willing to defend her, which, admittedly, could cause trouble (once again E48), but I could understand all this, because when everyone else doesn’t seem to alleviate your pain in the best way in your eyes, you become helpless when you have nobody else to confide in. For Mahidevran Mustafa was the only one she could truly confide in and he was her only tangible source of comfort when she’s pained to the point she can’t think rationally, in a way. There were definetly moments where she was ready to assert her own power through him, involving him in her fights. But once again, these things were stuff she developed out of, now indeed considering his safety first and foremost, telling him to stay away from any and all danger and to not provoke his enemies in any way. She became ready to eliminate all threats to him by herself and that’s also why she commited her biggest sin in the series: it was in a desperate, urgent attempt to protect Mustafa that she killed Mehmet. She thought only about him then, never about herself. (in E101 we see that Mustafa isn’t in the best condition after being exiled in Amasya to the point he was willing to not let anyone close to him and commit suicide and Mahidevran knew this, giving orders to Taşlicalı through Fidan to not leave him alone while she’s gone. With that I wanna thank Joanna for noticing this a while back! <33) She was ready to do anything and everything for him. Her path as a mother is heartfelt and fascinating to me.

I find Ayşe Hafsa to also be a very good mother, though. She was also the most notable in her advices and perceptiveness she delivered to SS. It was for a reason he thought of her as his conscience and seeing how he spiraled down massively after her absence, she may have been a huge part of his justice system, even though there were times where he disregarded her. She grounded him and told him which lines he shouldn’t cross just as she provided emotional support when he left for campaigns or went in the divan.

Her and Hatice are probably the best mother and daughter relationship on the franchise (Gevherhan and Kosem come as a close second), for there we saw genuine love and genuine support, as well. She fell ill precisely for the thought of her daughter’s pain after she learns about Ibrahim and Nigar. Hafsa is more tradition-bound and that may cause her to disregard her children’s wishes or cross paths with them quite a few times, but her motherhood is certainly one of her good qualities, especially when it shined through her flanderization in S02.

Despite of her cold pragmatism, Şah seemed to be a very good mother, all things considered. She was able to put Esmahan's wishes above her own by agreeing to try marrying her to Bali Bey and most importantly, sparing Lütfi Pasha for her sake alone.

I don’t consider Hürrem to be a totally bad mother by any means, especially how, as I mentioned, her motherly instincts can be as strong as Mahidevran’s, but there are factors where she falls a little short for me. One of them is screentime, to be brutally honest: we simply didn’t get much of her relationship with Mehmet for this reason, except for the schematic praise, hope for him to be the padisah and her not allowing him to go to the sanjack. We didn’t get much of her with Mihrimah in S03, either, even though their S03A relationship is the best part of it for me. I love her relationships with Selim, Bayezid and Cihangir much, much more writing-wise and my favourite point of Hürrem as a mother, as I mentioned once, is the S02B Cihangir arc. There we see her genuine concern over him that puts her motherhood to the forefront, we see how terrified she is of his incoming operation and that’s Hürrem at her most emotionally honest overall (and I wish we had more of that!). I love her protective mama bear attitude. I love how she managed to keep her children away from conflict in the earlier seasons (with the exception of little Mihrimah in S02A) and that certainly gave her some advantage.

Her problems as a mother, however, appeared later down the line and managed to prevail, with her mishandling of the Selim and Bayezid conflict being her biggest failing in the whole show for me. Her fixation on her enemies, or Mustafa in particular, dominated in how she dealt with her children in S04, to the point she moulded them for the political game, made pragmatic decisions she explained far too late (like why she sent Selim in Manisa), condemned them for their mistakes more than necessary (Mihrimah) and attempted to make them fully fixated on one goal, to no avail. I get her motives - Mehmet’s death empowered her will for revenge in an enormous way and she is now even more desperate to win the fight of her life that would help her make them respect her, ,,kneel to her feet’’ and defeat them all, but that way she had to make her children fully commit to that same fight, putting their personal feelings and desires behind and sometimes overlooking their own problems. She loves her children a lot and the realization that she had to choose between Selim and Bayezid broke her to pieces, but some problems manage to outweigh that. She’s an interesting, relatable in this time period, mother, but I certainly wouldn’t call her the best one of the franchise.

We didn’t see much of Nurbanu as a mother, but she certainly seemed to love Murad, but show strictness as well. We also saw how ruthless she can get when it comes to the survival of her and her son when she was about to kill Defne's kids.

Defne is a very nurturing mother, from what we saw. She's probably shown as a nurturer the most when it comes to all the mothers and her love and protection of her children is warm, yet heartbreaking, especially because she's ready to take risks she never had when Nurbanu comes for them. That scene was the peak of her removing her loyalties to her in general.

I wouldn’t compare the dynastic sultanas like Hatice or Gevherhan as mothers, simply because they’re not very often shown as such. Hatice wanted to have children so badly, but we didn’t see her much with her living children, which is solely a writing issue. Gevherhan isn’t seen as a mother that much to comment on it, either, even though yes, she clearly loves her children.

Safiye is another deal: she loves her children, but keeping her power has always taken primacy over them. Though it’s not to be denied that their deaths are moments of big vulnerability for her and indicators for the last ounces of her humanity - once Fahriye died, she seemed to have lost some of that humanity. Once Iskender died, she was finally willing to let go. But this humanity in her motherly relationships couples with her moments of disregarding them: as seen with Fahriye and especially, Humasah. There was a hinted resentment of Humasah’s of Safiye, and I’m sure there was a reason for it, despite of Humasah listening to her still in some cases.

Handan is a comparatively good mother. She also tries her best to protect Ahmet from stronger enemies and he is the reason she had fought this war against Safiye and Halime and ended up outranking them. One part she commited suicide was perhaps because she didn’t see any sign of acceptance in Ahmet of her love with Dervish, one of the few things that made her happy in the cage that is the castle. Getting such strong disapproval from her own son… it hurt.

I see Kösem as a mother that cares about her children, but is often forced to couple them with the needs of the country or caves in to the necessity to represent the traditions, as well as the country. That’s why she ended both Ibrahim and Murat, no matter how much she didn’t want to. Her whole arc was about the dilemma of representing the state and her own motherly persona and she fought the fratricide law so hardly, for no one to endure their children being killed no more. She knows best what is like to lose children and that also motivated her in doing what she considered right in ruling the empire, trying her best to stop any failings.

I elaborated in the past on why I think Halime and Gülbahar are very toxic mothers and I stand by these opinions.

I know the ask was about who is the best mother in the franchise, but I want to mention, for the second time, the worst mother in the franchise, is Turhan. Oh god, Turhan. She is the worst mother both character-wise and writing-wise - nor have we seen her show any affection for Mehmed at all, nor have we had that much time to see it, either. She is a one-dimensional thematic symbol, nearly devoid of vulnerability or humanity, and (even though that fits thematically, except for her relationship with her son) that also includes her son.

[missjanjie]

Branjie Fic - Hold Me Closer, Tiny Dancer (2/?)

Title: Hold Me Closer, Tiny Dancer Summary: Brooke Lynn is a graduate student anxiously embracing her new position as her favorite dance professors’ new TA. Vanessa is a sophomore dance major who just might make her way into being more than the teacher(assistant)’s pet. (lesbian/university AU) Word Count: ~2.4k (this chapter)/~5k (total) Relationship: Branjie (Vanessa ‘Vanjie’ Mateo/Brooke Lynn Hytes) Rating: T Note(s): rating is subject to change, this is based on the story so far

Read on AO3 | Ch. 1 

While it is called the ‘fall semester’, classes always start during the summer, often at the end of August. This gave way for heatwaves hitting in the middle of the week, especially in densely-packed places like New York City. No one talks about this time of year in the city that never sleeps – it is devoid of the awe and whimsy that so often surrounded it in media. Artists don’t wax poetic about days like this, where the air is thick and hazy and smells of sweat and melting garbage. Where, despite it being the lunch rush, the streets were scare, and everyone is hiding in the comfort of air conditioning or high-powered fans.

Cut to the graduate student residence hall – more specifically, Brooke’s apartment. There, she and Nina sat on the floor in sports bras and shorts, drinking glass after glass of ice water and being eternally grateful that the a/c had been fixed just before the start of the semester. Nina looked on as Brooke stared catatonically at the ceiling and nudged her leg with her foot to get her attention. “I don’t think I’ve ever had to say this to anyone but myself, but I think you’re being overdramatic,” she told her.

“I’m not!” Brooke sighed in exasperation. “It’s only day two of the school year and I’ve already kissed a student. I couldn’t manage a full twenty-four hours on campus without jeopardizing everything,” she groaned, now laying on the floor. “It wasn’t even a cute cheek kiss, I almost slipped her tongue, Nina!”

Nina didn’t mean to laugh, trying to cover her mouth when she snorted. “What exactly do you think is going to happen? That she’s gonna tell Katya? That Katya’s gonna fire you?” she didn’t let her answer before she continued, “I don’t think you’re actually afraid of getting in trouble. I think you’re afraid of catching feelings for this girl.”

“Thanks for the insight, Dr. Phil,” Brooke huffed and pushed herself back into a sitting position. “Look, just because she’s beautiful, funny, and kissing her made me feel like glitter was exploding inside of me, doesn’t mean I’m about to fall for her.”

Nina stared at her blankly, hardly able to believe the level of denial she was stuck in. “Do you hear yourself? Because you sound ridiculous.” She swung her legs over to the side so she could shift and look at her. “You know it isn’t the end of the world to have a crush on someone, right? It’s a thing that happens to most of us humans every now and then.”

Brooke groaned and buried her head in her hands. “But why did it have to hit me now?” she couldn’t help but wonder, if it was in another time and place, would she be this stressed over the encounter? She supposed it was possible that she would try to find another excuse, or maybe she’d be in Vanessa’s bed instead.

“Because sometimes life is an asshole that takes its joy in screwing with you, and you just have to tough it out. That’s how I got into comedy,” doing improv and stand-up had become Nina’s way of coping, and Brooke’s way of coping was…not.

And she couldn’t counter her point either, leaving her pouting and looking at the floor. “So, what am I supposed to do in class tomorrow?”

Nina shrugged. “Just try not to make a big deal of things, it’ll just be business as usual. I’m sure she’s just as nervous and confused as you are.”

“She wants me,” Vanessa said to her friends. They were all sat in the dining hall during lunch, the group having just listened with interest as she recounted the events of the day before.

“You sound real confident about someone that deadass ran away from you,” A’keria retorted, pointing her fork at her as she spoke.

Vanessa shook her head, swallowing the food in her mouth before speaking. “Nah it wasn’t a ‘running away’ moment. She just got cold feet, I ain’t taking it personally,” she sat upright with a smug grin, proving a sincerity in her belief.

“So, what are you gonna do next? Like in class?” she furrowed her brows.

That was when she realized she hadn’t actually planned ahead, which was never her strength in the first place. While it was often a hindrance academically, she usually enjoyed the spontaneity that came with potential budding romances. But with Brooke? She might have to take another approach. “Gotta play the long game, babe.”

“The long game?” Blair chimed in. While she had a girlfriend, she was endlessly interested in her and A’keria’s dating lives – especially comparing and contrasting the two. They were both extroverts that thrived at a good party or club and were openly flirtatious with whoever caught their eye. The difference, perhaps, was the number of girls that caught their respective eyes – A’keria didn’t like leaving any outing empty-handed, while Vanessa had the tendency to pick and choose, even when drunk beyond belief.

Vanessa clicked her tongue and smirked. “She ain’t just gonna get with me overnight – you gotta finesse that shit when you’re aiming for, you know, a lady of Brooke Lynn’s caliber.”

“As opposed to us hoes?” A’keria arched her brow.

“Exactly, bitch!” Vanessa laughed.

“I think it’s sweet,” Blair hummed. “You’re changing your major to Brooke!” she said to a pair of blank stares. “Fun Home? Seriously? God, I waste my best musical theatre material on you guys,” she huffed.

Even though Vanessa didn’t understand the joke, she understood what Blair was getting at. Out of curiosity, she looked up the song she’d referenced, listening to it on her walk to class. “Oh, I get it now. That was clever,” she said to herself before she sat down in the lecture hall.

The class was about half full when she arrived, students filing in for the next five minutes or so. At one point, a girl took the seat next to her. She sat poised and upright – Vanessa wondered if she was a dancer too. “Nice bling you got there,” she told her, gesturing to the large earrings that stood out against her shaved head.

“Thanks,” she replied, casually looking her over. “I’m Yvie.”

“Vanjie.”

She quirked her brow. “Is that your given name?”

“No, it’s Vanessa. But that’s what I go by,” she replied, rifling through her bag and humming quietly to herself as she took what she needed out.

Yvie nodded in understanding, looking forward and scribbling aimlessly along the margins of her notebook paper. “So, what’s your major?”

“Brooke.”

“What?”

Vanessa’s eyes widened and she shrunk down, momentarily considering walking right out of the class and calling it a day. “Dance! I-I meant to say dance,” she sputtered out. Oh, she was going to get Blair later. It was her damn fault bringing up that musical.

“I’m not even gonna ask, girl,” Yvie shook her head. It was more out of sympathy, seeing how embarrassed she was, than an actual lack of interest. Frankly, she was much more tempted to press for more information, but then the professor called attention to the front of the class, and the various conversations died down, much to Vanessa’s relief.

Wednesday morning, on its own, seemed to promise a better day. The heatwave had passed, and the city was bustling with its usual energy. Even in the dance studio, Katya was the first one to arrive, which gave Brooke – who came in next – one less thing to worry about. She decided not to tell her about the kiss, lest she be subjected to an ‘I told you so’, making her hope all the more that the class would go by without incident.

Brooke scanned the room as each student entered, trying to make it seem like she was paying every one of them the same amount of attention. But then Vanessa walked in and suddenly no one else existed. This time she had on shorts and a tank top, and her hair was tied into a neat bun, and Brooke was able to study her for a good couple moments before their eyes met.

“Morning, Brooke,” Vanessa still seemed happy to see her, but her tone was calmer, more controlled. It was the same tone she had when she comforted her in Starbucks, and it brought on the same sense of ease it had then.

It baffled her, when she thought about it. Brooke’s emotions were so easily swayed – Vanessa could get her riled up and calmed down within the same conversation. That sort of thing might bother others, but it had something of an addictive quality to it. She wanted to get to know her more, to get another hit of her energy. “Good to see you, Vanjie,” she replied. And she meant it, truly.

After Brooke took attendance, Katya stood at the front of the class to begin the lecture. “Today we’re going to work on having to work with a partner. I know you guys touched on some dances last year, so we’re going to build off of that. I’m just going to go down the line and pair everyone up,” she paired up everyone as she walked across the studio, until she got down to the last three girls. “Looks like we’ve got an odd number today.”

One girl shrugged. “It’s fine, we can work in a gr—”

“No, no that just work,” she looked at the three girls, making it seem like she was really thinking about it. “You two pair up. Vanjie, you can work with Brooke,” she announced, actively refusing to acknowledge the way Brooke was staring her down.

The devil works hard, but Katya works harder, Brooke thought as she got up and went to sit by her new dance partner. She tuned out while Katya explained what dance steps they’d be doing – she had gone through all of this before and knew it by heart – especially considering how many times she had gone over the lesson plans. Instead, she took that time to remind herself to stay calm, that the only reaction she should have is no reaction at all.

“You ever tango before?” Brooke asked as she, Vanessa, and everyone else got to their feet.

“You heard her, we did this last year,” Vanessa shrugged as a simple tango tune filled the room from the speaker Katya hooked up to her laptop.

And each set of partners assumed the starting position – one hand on the other’s shoulder and the others clasped together out to the side. Some students were counting the steps out loud, while others were doing turns and back cortes.

Unsurprisingly, Vanessa was on the more advanced end of the spectrum, demonstrated both by her skill and her desire to take control. “Why can’t you let me lead?” she huffed.

“Grow six inches and we’ll talk,” Brooke retorted, dipping her in time with the music, earning her a scowl from the shorter girl, but she only found it as cute as her smile. Almost as if to further flaunt her size advantage, she moved her arm around Vanessa’s waist, lifting her up for a twirl.

But Vanessa was quick on her feet. She landed and wrapped a leg around her waist, and Brooke put a hand on her thigh and pulled her close. Another dip, and back up. As the music died down, they came to a stop, breathing heavily, close enough for their breath to hit each other’s faces.

“Now that’s a tango, ladies!” Katya had apparently been going from pair to pair, coaching and critiquing, not that this pair would’ve noticed. “I call it The Tango: Branjie!” she said with jazz hands for flourish. “Get it? Because, you know, you—and she—" she looked around at the stone-faced class. “Damn, tough crowd. Class dismissed,” she shrugged and walked to turn off her laptop.

“For the record,” Brooke said as she set Vanessa down and took a few cautious steps back, “as the student, I think you should get the credit. It’s called The Tango: Vanjie now,” she turned to gather her things, but Vanessa didn’t budge.

“I like the ring that has to it, but I ain’t leaving til we talk about that kiss,” she stood firmly, hands on her hips and head held high, only to cock a bit to the side as her pursed lips twitched to a smirk. “Or til I get another one.”

So that was how it was going to be. Brooke was impressed by Vanessa’s boldness, and perhaps a bit aroused. She gently placed her fingers under her chin, tilting her head up and pressing a kiss to her lips. “Goodbye, Vanjie,” she whispered sweetly, tapping her cheek lightly before sending her on her way. It was when she stood back up and turned to pick her bag up that she let out a frustrated groan. “Fuck, you’re still here.”

Katya was bouncing on the balls of her feet with a cheshire grin. “This is the best moment of my fucking career, bitch,” she ran over to Brooke and grabbed her hands, jumping up and down. “You guys are gonna have such crazy sex!”

Brooke’s eyes widened and she clapped her hand over Katya’s mouth. “Not if you keep running your fucking mouth!” she hissed in a stage whisper. She waited a beat, then let her hand drop to the side. “I swear, if you breathe a word—”

“Would you turn the paranoia down for like, five minutes to realize no one’s out to get you for whatever happens between you and Vanjie?” Katya gripped on to Brooke’s shoulders. “I think you need to go home, have a drink and a smoke, and go rub one out. You’ve got plenty of new material, now,” she bumped her elbow into her side.

Brooke exhaled and shook her head. “I’m gonna kill you,” she muttered before stepping out of the studio. She had only taken a couple steps towards the exit when she paused and turned around. Of course.

“So,” Vanessa pushed herself off the wall and took a half-step towards Brooke. “You off to follow Professor Katya’s advice?” she asked with the same type of grin the aforementioned woman had.

“No,” Brooke scoffed and tossed her hair off her shoulder. She waited until she saw something of a disappointed look on her face before adding “I’ve been trying to quit smoking,” she bit her lip and winked before turning on her heel and walking out of the building.

Vanessa was left stunned, but well-affected, nonetheless. “Just keep playing the long game, Vanjie. She’ll come around.”

[welcometoyournewhell]

The End Was Only the Start of a New Beginning  Chapter 1

A/N: So this is my third attempt at a “fix it AU” series for Voltron. Ships are involved, their are two offspring so far... but they are babies. Please enjoy!

----

The former captain of the Atlas couldn’t believe his eyes. How was this possible? He felt the soft skin of a loved one’s face softly as he watched for a reaction. A slight twitch and warm flesh indicated their was life... but how?

Gray met blue as Coran wept with joy. His baby was alive, Allura! He had been seated in a chair as his legs shook and head spun. He held her hand, feeling such joy. “My baby,” he sighed softly. 

Curtis stood by his husband as they looked over the princess. He placed a hand on Shiro’s lower back as he observed his expression. “You okay?” The shorter gripped onto the table edge a bit as his head also began to spin. “Need a chair.” Matt was quick to move one under him as Adam and Curtis helped him down. 

“How is this even possible?” Adam turned to face Sam who shrugged. “We took the kids on a field trip into the blue lion’s cave and... we found her. Due to Keith’s calculations from years ago... I’d say it was the same spot Blue was found.“

Shiro peered up a bit. “Has Blue been showing any... emotions? Has she been active or flying off without a pilot?” The eldest Holt shook his head. “No... she’s been practically lifeless since Allura disappeared..” That was three years ago.

Curtis furrowed his brow a bit as he looked over the girl again. “Did you look for injury before changing her outfit?” It was a dumb question but... he was confused on how she could just appear out of no where... under ground. 

“We found her like this,” Coran stated. It didn’t make sense to the other. “So she died in space, reappeared, fully dressed in something completely different, underground?” Matt nodded. “I know.. it sounds odd. We have teams searching for traces of anything as we speak. Pidge is leading them as her and mom look for more advanced things.

“Iverson has reached out to the blades and any other group we’re allied with in fear someone else may have just reappeared.” It appears they’d already taken into consideration the shared paranoia. Another ten thousand year war was not one they wanted to deal with. 

“Have you contacted the paladins,” Adam asked as he handed Shiro a water. “Not yet, Iverson wanted orders from Shiro before moving on.” The veteran looked up in confusion. “Why me?” 

Matt shrugged before Sam butted in. “You lead an army though space Shiro, he was hoping you could give him a judgement call based on the information we have... which so far is close to nothing.” 

The veteran looked back down at his friend before looking to Adam. “It’ll take Hunk a while to get here... even with the yellow lion. If your going to call him.. I would now. Keith and Lance could crash in Keith’s old room until we figure out if there may be a bigger threat than what were seeing.” 

Looking from Adam, the captain looked to the others who nodded. “I can call Keith,” Curtis said softly as he pulled out his phone. Shiro frowned a bit as he looked back down at Allura. If she wasn’t the only one to survive... history seemed doomed to repeat it’s self. 

And that was a history Shiro was ready to re-live. 

“So she was found in the cave,” Adam asked. He was talking to Coran. The man nodded slowly. “One girl.... this small Galran girl didn’t want to go in there. She said it... it was giving off a strange feeling. We reassured her it was nothing but..... she was right. Somehow.” 

The red head shook his head slightly as he covered his mouth with a free hand. Tears threatened to fall from his eyes. “Are we sure this is... actually Allura?” He didn’t mean to upset the older man. As Coran looked up to yell at him, he watched as Adam nodded to Shiro. 

Frowning he bit his lip. “I.... I hope so.” They all did. Sam shrugged. “Everything seems to be in order, but that’s not saying much. It just means she’s alive with natural body functions.” White hair pressed into the other’s sleep shirt as he spoke. Shiro knew what Adam was getting at. 

“Well it’s not like we can really compare. Even in a new clone body, Kuron and Shiro are more genetically matched than identical twins. The only difference is their memories and personalities.” Yes, their likes and dislikes too and things like that, but from appearance and tests.... they were the same person. 

Matt sighed before looking to his father. “So.... how are we supposed to know?” The older looked to the others. “They didn’t realize it wasn’t me until... after Haggar took control. Even then... it’s... it’s hard to tell I guess?” No one spoke of the unprofessional stand point. 

Adam was cradling his husband’s head into his abdomen, trying to calm him down. “I mean... we could question her, like a memory test... but I don’t want to just interrogate her when she gets up. We need someone with no basis of her to spend time with her and see how she acts. The paladins and Coran’s interpretation and feelings would be blinded by their love for her.”

A hand gripped Adam’s arm. “You okay?” Sam grumbled as he called the main staff again. It was seven in the morning! They should have been here hours ago. Shiro nodded. “Room’s spinning.” It was... a lot to take in. It didn’t help his brain was taking him through his personal experience that was much too similar. 

“I’m here. Your okay, your safe.” Matt had gotten another chair for Adam. Sitting down he held his husband close as he continued to whisper soothing things into his ear. Coran looked at them before frowning. What if the professor was right? What if this wasn’t his baby? 

“Coran,” Sam smiled at the gorgeous man. “I promise we’ll et her up soon. For now... we need to figure out the basic questions. Why don’t you rest?” The older Altean looked over the princess before shaking his head. “I’d feel better if I stayed here.” 

The father understood when he was coming from. He placed a hand on Coran’s back. “She’ll be okay... I promise.” Curtis had entered the room once more, Iverson close behind. “No one has seen anything, but they’ll all report if they do.” He rubbed Shiro’s back a bit as he spoke. “Krolia brought something to my attention, it’s far fetched but it’s better than saying she just appeared underground. 

“Quintessence is almost like.... magic isn’t it? Could it have been used to some how make a worm hole like portal that would allow Allura back?” Coran shook his head. “Not from the after life... quintessence, I don’t believe, can be used for worm holes either. We have no magic strong enough. That’s something not even Haggar could do.”

The other’s frowned a bit before Adam looked up to his other husband. “How’d that go?” Curtis nodded a bit. “Their brining Kas and Kosmo but their on their way. I hope we won’t need Red though.” Coran looked up in confusion. “Why is that?” Adam frowned a bit. “Lance nearly fainted?”

Curtis thought for a moment. “Not really? Keith’s just afraid he’s too distracted to pilot. He went quiet and just... starred at the wall when he told him.” The room went quiet as the girl on the table twitched a bit. She was becoming a bit more animated. 

She twitched a bit harsher, as if she was having a nightmare. Coran was quick to comfort her as he pulled her close. “It’s alright Allura, your among family.” He stroked her hair a bit as he held his daughter. Sam was quick to record the reaction as they waited for the medical staff to arrive. She hadn’t moved this much yet. Perhaps she truly was just... asleep?

She was showing more movement as she brought her hand up. Coran was standing at this point, she gripped onto him as if she was in pain. Her other hand held her chest, tears starting to fall from closed eyes. Iverson got on to the com, screaming for medical attention.

Adam watched the heart monitor.... she wasn’t having a heart attack. It was something he’d learn to examine after a few years of scares with Shiro. “It’s a nightmare... maybe inflammation but.... it just looks like a nightmare.” Iverson paused his insults to observe. 

Adam seemed to be correct. He was a bit calmer as he spoke now. Coran hummed a soft tune by the princess’s ear. It sounded like a lullaby... and seemed to help. Allura relaxed some and curled into the body more, as a child would their parent.

The older Altean frowned softly as he closed his eyes, still humming the tune. The girl whined softly before snuggling closer to the comfort. Shiro was trying to focus in on the singing as well... but it wasn’t working. “Adam,” he hummed softly. The other looked down before frowning. Shiro was so pale. “We’re going to wait in the car until Keith and Lance get here. Matt, can you contact Hunk?”

The other nodded quickly as Curtis got a wheel chair for Shiro. He shook his head. “I can stay here.” He couldn't. It was all hitting him at onece, he wanted to forget so badly. He wrapped his arms around Adam as he and Iverson moved him into the chair.

He didn’t want to let go of Adam, he’d always clung to him as if he could take away all the pain, all the fear. ‘Kashi your going to be okay.” That’s what he always said. Kisses, snuggles, reassuring words. When the night terrors hit, the PTSD attacks..... only Adam could bring him out of it. 

He felt weak for it, and awful as he knew it upset Curtis that he couldn’t help. But today... he felt awful because it wasn’t about him. They’d found Allura, they were trying to help Allura... and here he was... head stuck up his own thoughts.

When he came back to focus he was laying down in the back seat of the car, Adam on top of him. The doors were open as to give the man air and not trigger anything. Curtis sat in the passenger seat, rubbing over the human arm with a soft smile. 

“You alright captain?” Gray eyes rolled before Shiro nodded. “Sorry just... seeing her like that. I... I couldn’t help it.” Adam moved up more, protectively holding his lover. “They understand. We’ll go back in later. Maybe seeing the small demon will distract you.” 

“Should have brought Dilly,” Curtis hummed. “She’s not a certified support dog,” Adam reminded before glaring at Shiro. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do it! She was too cute, I can’t put her on a schedule. I just want to cuddle her and snuggle.” 

The professor rolled his eyes before kissing around his husband’s face. “That was the point of adopting her,” he huffed. Shiro just smiled softly while giggling. Curtis slowly moved his hand in to tickle under the shortest chin. He was rewarded with a quick snort and playful glare. 

He felt much better. As the three calmed down in the car, medical staff was finally entering the rom. As Allura calmed down they began to run more specific tests, one standing by ready to put her out if she woke up.

The thought scared Coran as she’d been out for so long now. He... he didn’t want them to be here. She was okay. She just needed to wake up! He watched nervously as they worked. Sam stood by him as they waited. Matt had to run, his mother needed him, as well as N-7 who had been watching their child during the time of the emergency. 

It was going to be a long day... or it was going to be a long few weeks. 

__

Later A/N: Okay so the story got over 10 notes, sweet! Here’s chapter 2 if you’d like!

[patexie]

Some “Atem after coming back” headcanons

Sooo some time ago @amatsubuart made a post with a lot of very good Atem headcanons and I got inspired to write some of my own !

There are also some Kaiba headcanons tying into them,,

* Atem has a very hard time getting used to the 21st century. It wasn’t that hard for him before because he didn’t have to understand anything, he had the comfort of going back into the puzzle and he had nothing to compare it to bc he didn’t have his memories. But now, he has his memories of AE and even lived in it for a few years through the Afterlife. So the differences are huge and can be overwhelming and disheartening

* More on that last point; he has quite a lot trouble getting used to the noise. All the people, all the cars, traffic, TVs, radios, phones, machinery, etc. It can just be too much. And he still has some problems with identifying certain sounds that would be evident for everyone around him (like a car’s alarm going off and he’s freaking out bc he thinks some great danger is coming or something)

* He doesn’t quite understand everything of the 21st century, so he has a certain child-like and genuine curiousity towards everything that’s new to him

* He’s pretty religious. He grew up worshipping the Egyptian gods and back in his time religion was handled a whole lot differently. So he prays a lot, makes offerings and even has a shrine. Well, especially now that he remembers the gods, he still feels somewhat guilty for losing his memories about them and therefore neglecting them

* He and Kaiba sometimes get into fights over his religion. Kaiba doesn’t quite believe in anything and finds Atem believing in “fairy tales” to be ridiculous and unbelievable. Sometimes he ends up offending Atem and his luck goes very down until Atem forgives him. Kaiba never said a thing about this to Atem because he knows Atem would have that smug look on his face and claim it’s the Gods’ punishment for insulting them. He tries to racionalize these times as just coincidences and to find some reason behind them, but sometimes he’s at loss for explanation (for example once his perfect systems shut down and he couldn’t get any work done or fix them, but as soon as he and Atem made up his systems started working perfectly again)

* Even tho he enjoys being with the Yugi friend gang, he also enjoys being alone and being with Kaiba (even if they aren’t doing anything together and do their own stuff next to each other)

* Neither him nor Kaiba ever talk about what happened during those times Kaiba went to visit him in the Afterlife and just how he managed to get Atem to return with him. But they had formed a much more stable bond than before and its apparent in both of their behaviors (Kaiba’s calmer and more balanced and Atem’s a lot more patient and forgiving towards Kaiba. Plus the both of them are less violent when it comes to competition)

* From time to time Kaiba goes as far as to give Atem difficult maths and logical puzzle books to keep his mind busy. They still play Duel Monsters, but not as much as they used to. Now they play a lot of different games and make a competition out of almost everything to challenge each other

* Both Kaiba and Yugi (+ his friend group) are protective of Atem. They lost him once and that’s something non of them would let happen again. Tho this isn’t all that obvious and they show this protectiveness in different ways (Yugi’s very caring to the point of being motherly and overcautious, Kaiba’s overly possessive and Anzu, Joey and Tristan would beat up anyone who even tried to lay a hand on Atem). Atem doesn’t understand why everyone seems to think he needs that much protection as he can look out for himself just fine, but he’s grateful nonetheless

* He lives with Yugi and Solomon and tries to take out his part in the chores around the house as much as possible. But he also has his own room at the Kaiba’s where he stays at from time to time

* He looks at Yugi like a twin brother and Solomon like a grandpa/father. He doesn’t care they aren’t his biological family, he still treats and loves them as such

* He still has his shadow powers and even tho he has more control over them, he barely uses them. Tho they can go out of control when he has a panic attack or something of that caliber

* Beside the mind crushing thing, he also has other powers, such as at times seeing ghosts, pyrokinesis, telekinesis and just having a huge energy power thing in general ((tho this is very much just a personal headcanon and ties into my au in which Atem is divine and the Egyptian Gods were present during his childhood, but more on that maybe later))

* He’s very lucky on the basis and his instincts are pretty much always spot-on, so things usually conveniently go his way

* Whenever he’s very bored, he reads books about AE and Egyptian mythology. This usually ends up with him either laughing or getting angry at how much they got wrong. But sometimes certain books and authors impress and surprise him if they turn out to be accurate

* He actually picked up the habit of talking with Ishizu from time to time. She gives him comfort bc she reminds him a lot of his era and she can talk with him about AE. He also tends to help out with translating/reading hieroglyphics and clearing up stuff about AE (like traditions, life in general, religion, etc)

* As Kaiba and Ishizu became sort of business partners, Kaiba sometimes flies out to Egypt to have business meetings with her. And he started taking Atem with him as well (just Atem, anyone else in addition would be too much). And Atem’s very grateful, he feels more at home there even if it makes him very sad bc he misses his former friends, family and people

* His fashion style is either very elegant or baggy everything and there’s no inbetween. Also lots of gold jewelry

* As his biggest fear is becoming useless, Yugi and their friend group try to keep him busy as much as they can. Ishizu tends to give him work by having him help out with AE-ian stuff. Kaiba sometimes calls him for help (which is never stated) with some of his newest technologies, mainly with testing or finding shortcuts. In addition, he also does voluntary work and helps out at different organizations like animal shelters

* More about him helping out Kaiba. Atem’s thinking and problem-solving is a lot different from anyone else’s. He grew up in a completely different era where people believed completely different things and interpreted the laws of physics in different ways. He knows how his people built the pyramids and follows the same mathematical calculation style. So whenever Kaiba gets really tangled up in his programming or calculations, Atem goes and approaches the problem on hand in a very different mannerism and usually gets a much quicker way to the correct answer or answers. Sometimes even Kaiba can’t properly understand just how Atem’s logic work

* He’s fluent in Japanese, but whenever he gets overwhelmed he starts talking in his native tongue. Solomon, Ishizu and Kaiba are the only ones who can more or less understand him and talk to him (tho Yugi also has been trying to learn ancient Egyptian and take up classes on it). And he also picked up on some English and Arabic

* As he sort of just appeared out of nowhere, they had to get all his papers made. And that process would have been a hella lot more difficult if Kaiba didn’t help out and get all of them done for Atem. It was never said why exactly he did it, but it was because he was grateful for Atem’s return and he has problems with saying thank you or expressing his feelings

* He has a bad habit of getting a bit too “royal” at times and someone needs to pull him back by telling him to stop. He got used to being the pharaoh and being treated and looked at as a sort of god, so at times he picks up a more demanding tone and orders others around, which reminds everyone of Kaiba more than Atem himself

* Thanks to getting his memories back and getting back into ruling, he has a bigger respect-demanding authorial vibe to him. He grew up in royalty and in being believed he was divine, so he was taught to have the stance of a king all the time

* He tells a lot of stories about his Gods to Yugi. He grew up on them, so they are dear to him and Yugi’s interested in listening to them. They are kind of like bedtime stories to Yugi, they have that kind of charm. And even tho Kaiba says they are bullshit and doesn’t believe in them, he’s willing to listen to these stories as well (alongside Mokuba, who openly enjoys and looks forward to them)

* He loves animals and they seem to love him as well. Stray animals always let him pet them, especially how he often gives them food. He can’t have a pet on his own tho

* He and Anzu never got together. He never had such feelings for her and her feelings sort of faded during those years when he was gone. But he’s rooting for Anzu and Yugi to get together and tries to help Yugi out even tho he has no dating experience

* He has a lot of dreams regarding AE. Most of them good, but also some bad ones like reliving his death. Some of the good dreams feel like they are the way his dead friends are communicating with him. And regardless of if it’s good or bad, after waking up he almost always cries himself back to sleep bc he feels regret and just misses his friends and family so much

* He has gotten used to the very warm weather and the constant sunshine, so being in Japan, where it’s colder and the sun shines less, has taken a toll on him. He got used to it with time, but he still gets moody bc of it at times and he has a lower cold-tolerance than most people (but at the same time he can take the heat much better than everyone around him)

* It didn’t exactly thunder in the Afterlife. There were some light rains, but that’s about it. So during the first few months of coming back, he would go outside whenever it was really raining and there were a lot of lightnings. And ofc whoever he was spending the night at (mostly Yugi, sometimes Kaiba) had to drag him back inside so he wouldn’t catch a cold. This adoration for thunders didn’t go away, but with time he learnt to just watch them through a window

[rwbyremnants]

This is one of my fave "cute" chapters, I just love it. And thanks you guys for sticking with the fic and with this account; I really appreciate the dedication despite all the delays!

=Chapter 40

Mrs. Nikos looked a little hesitant about letting Weiss in. All she would say was that Pyrrha was “gloomy”, but then that she hoped having a guest would help. She struggled inside and through the sitting room to the stairs, taking them carefully so she wouldn’t drop her box.

“Helloooooo?” she called out gently as she knocked on the open door with her heel, thinking that was wiser than trying to balance it on one hand. “Anybody home?”

Pyrrha was lying stomach-down on her bed with a textbook open in front of her, bobby socks crossed at the ankles above her poodle skirt-clad rear. At hearing Weiss’s voice, her eyes slowly raised up to blink at her a few times. The pencil fell from between her teeth to bounce off her book and roll toward her crossed arms, and she started to push upward.

“Weiss…?”

“Y-you don’t have to get up. This won’t take long.” Crossing the room, she quickly set the box down by her friend’s hand as she sat back on her legs, a little confused. “That’s for you.”

Eyebrows drawing even closer together, Pyrrha slowly pulled it closer and popped the top. She gave a little gasp, stared at it for a few seconds as if trying to discern a hidden meaning in the two simple words scribed on top of the cake with red frosting, then stared up at Weiss with a stricken expression.

“Weiss… this wasn’t necessary. I’m the one who’s sorry; you don’t have to be, or give me a cake saying so.”

She shrugged, feeling awkward now that the moment had come. “Don’t know why you would be. But I know that I pushed too hard. You have every right to… to not want to go with Cinder, and to date Jaune. I really was just double-checking for you, in case you were… I don’t know. The point is, I should have been more sensitive to your needs, instead of, um, pushy.”

“No,” she sighed wearily. Her hand tipped the lid of the box closed, and Weiss saw her fingers were shaking. “I’m the one who’s sorry, Weiss. Because… you were right. Or half-right.”

“What?”

“I really do want to be with Jaune,” she whispered, swallowing thickly. “But he has no idea what he wants. He won’t ask me to the dance - never notices when I change my hair, or what I’m wearing. Clueless. Which is alright! Some boys are like that, it’s not a crime. But it does start to feel as if he barely knows I’m alive.”

Weiss had been nodding along with all of that, but then she hesitated, confused. “Then… wait, how am I half-right?”

Pyrrha opened the cake box again and gazed down into it, letting out a tiny laugh of bemusement. Still thinking that Weiss didn’t need to apologise, no doubt. Then she closed it and put it on her bedside table, out of the way, so she could draw her knees up to her chest.

“I have no one courting me, Weiss. Not Jaune, and no other boys are interested; the few that are and express that interest do not have honourable intentions, and the others are too intimidated to approach me. Which was alright. I know I’m beautiful, and athletic, and a good student, and a decent person – or I try my hardest to be. But then…” Pyrrha’s cheeks were already turning rosy as she gazed toward the window. “Cinder wanted me in her lap… to touch me, put her lips on my skin… a-and I didn’t know what to do. Because it felt so strange, but it also made me feel wanted for the first time in my life. Not wanted as a student or an athlete, but as a woman. And she was so powerful, and in control, and she swept me away… and I’d never felt like that before, you know?”

Weiss was shocked. This had been both not quite what she expected and far more. “Oh.”

“It’s the attention I wanted, even if not from who I wanted to give it to me. And I don’t like women!” When Weiss folded her arms over her chest, she had the good grace to flash an embarrassed smile. “Alright, I know that I asked why you didn’t fall for me once, but you know that was… I don’t know what that was. Curiosity and some kind of wounded pride.”

“But with Cinder, it’s different because she cuts right through everything else? Makes you feel alive?” Pyrrha nodded, and she laughed softly. “Just like me with Yang.”

“Exactly. That did seem to be how you described it.”

“Okay, I get it now, more or less. So… I guess the only question I have left is… what are you going to do?”

Hanging her head slightly, she whispered, “I… don’t know. Because I don’t think I want anything from Cinder. Really! Just… my heart seems to yearn for what she was offering against my own wishes. The excitement and the attention. And since Jaune doesn’t even kn-know I’m alive…”

Tears were rolling down Pyrrha’s cheeks. They weren’t the horrible ones Yang or Blake had been crying off and on of late, but very quiet, dignified ones. Weiss quickly moved to scoot onto the bed, wrapping an arm around her back and holding her close to her side while she shook and sobbed. It didn’t last long; a minute, maybe two. Then Weiss took out a handkerchief and passed it to her to dab at her eyes.

“There, there,” she whispered gently. “Don’t give up hope just yet. Um… do you want a piece of this cake? Kali helped me bake it when she got home last night, so you know it’s going to be splendid!”

With a little sob, she grinned and said, “Of course! She’s a real whiz in the kitchen!” They pulled the box onto the bed and stared at it for a moment before Pyrrha remarked, “Something is missing.”

“Yes. We should probably get plates and forks.”

“And a cake knife, and a pie server. Oh - and we should eat in the kitchen so my parents don’t become upset over the crumbs!”

Amused and excited now, they both fled the room to start indulging in sugary goodness. And Weiss was so relieved that she almost forgot about all her other problems.

-------------------

Almost.

All the way back home, Weiss’s glee at having reconciled with Pyrrha began to fade. There were still a lot of problems in her life: her new family and her old one were both in turmoil. The fate of the Dragons was completely up in the air, and they had no central safe haven anymore. Penny and Ruby still weren’t going to the dance together, even though that seemed like a more minor problem compared with a few others.

It was a lot for a lone teenaged girl to handle.

“I’m glad it went well,” Kali told her with a gentle smile as they drove back to the Belladonna homestead. She had been waiting with bated breath to see how her cake had been received, and was appropriately thrilled for Weiss when she returned, smiling and looking calmer than she had in days.

“Me, too. She really loved it! And the best part is… she wasn’t even mad at me, anyway. Should have been, but wasn’t.”

One hand left the steering wheel to reach over and pat Weiss’s leg. “Shhh, don’t say that. Trying to get a baby lesbian to admit her feelings isn’t ‘cruel’, it’s charitable. Well… as long as you don’t push much past the line where you stopped, dear.”

“Glad I had you guys doing that for me,” Weiss sighed, running a hand through her hair as she watched the houses and trees flash past. “Even though I wasn’t really ready for it yet. Sometimes it still feels like you came along and changed my brain, like Dr. Frankenstein.” Kali’s laugh was infectious, though Weiss could only summon a small smile. “I know, I know. It doesn’t work like that.”

“Sure doesn’t. I think like most of us, you always knew you liked women, deep down; you just had no reason to worry about it until a sunny little Dragon came along.”

Blushing, she toyed with the lining beneath the window. “Yeah. Maybe so.”

“And that’s alright. You do know that, don’t you?”

“Maybe. I, um… I don’t know. I think I liked boys, too, but didn't want to admit there were… more things on the menu?”

Shooting her a little wink, Kali chuckled and said, “As a chef, I definitely approve of that metaphor. Oh… looks like Blake is home already.”

Sure enough, as Kali pulled in they saw that Blake's motorcycle was parked further back in the driveway. Weiss felt her heart speed up in her chest. She was on a roll so far; maybe she should try to ride this hot streak and see if she could double her winnings for the day. Giving her surrogate mother a quick hug, she unfastened her safety belt and rushed inside.

“Blake? Are you here? Blake!”

There was no answer. However, she quickly found her in the kitchen, slathering peanut butter on a slice of bread. Though she twitched a little at the sound of the footsteps, she didn't turn around.

“Blake… hi.”

“Hi.” Her voice was utterly devoid of emotion.

“S-so, um, I… can I have some of that?”

Blake slid the jar over to her. Of course, Weiss was still quite full of cake but she couldn't blow her cover now, so she pulled a slice of bread from the bag and went to get herself a knife.

“I'm done,” Blake told her, holding out the knife she had been using. Once she had handed it off, she folded her own peanut butter sandwich in half and moved to leave the room.

“Wait!” Blake paused, her hand still raised to push open the door. “Are you mad at me?”

That seemed to stun her, and she turned it to face Weiss again, amber eyes blinking a few times. “What? Mad at you? Why would I be?”

“For… stealing Yang, and your mom, and… jeepers, I never meant to replace you. And I don't think I have! But… I could see why after what happened yesterday, you would be mad. It just keeps happening, even without me trying to-”

“Damn it, Schnee,” she sighed irritably, rolling her eyes as her posture slumped. “I told you, I'm past all that now. Done being… pathetic and jealous. I am in a bad mood but it has nothing to do with you. Not directly.”

“Then what?” When Blake didn't reply immediately, she set the bread and the knife on the counter and trotted over, trying to ignore the way Blake tensed up as if she were about to be struck. “You can talk to me.”

“Can I? I mean, maybe I can, but it's not going to do any good.”

Frowning, she grabbed Blake's arm through the leather sleeve and shook it very lightly. Apparently, Ilia had already dropped her jacket off; what a dutiful little servant. “Didn't I keep your secret? Yang never found out from me. Ever! But if you don't feel like talking, that's all right, I just… wish I understood.”

Then her hands fell away. The two stood awkwardly in the kitchen for a minute or so, glancing into the corners, at the one and a half peanut butter sandwiches and the gleaming, spotless tiles. Trying to figure out what to do next.

“I'm just…” Weiss perked up at the two words, which only made Blake curl her lip in disgust. “Damn paper shakers, why do you always have to be so cheerful?”

“We are cheer-leaders, you know.”

As dumb of an observation as it was, it did make Blake crack a smile. “Nerd.” Then the smile faded. She looked down at her boots before she whispered, “It didn’t change anything.”

“Huh?”

“Telling her. She just looked… hurt, and…” Her throat worked to swallow, and she tossed the sandwich on the nearest counter. “And it didn’t change how she felt. So the only good telling her did was nothing; it hurt her.”

Of course. Weiss had expected it to be about Yang, but she thought Blake would be mad at both of them. She wasn’t expecting it to be solely focused on the Dragon herself. However, Blake didn’t really seem to be angry at Yang, but more at the situation overall. That everything had gone in the exact way that meant…

“You really got the short end of the stick,” Weiss finally whispered.

“I did. But that’s okay; I’m hep. It’s no one’s fault, it’s…” Her shoulder shrugged. Weiss had never seen such hollowness in anyone’s eyes. “Not everybody gets a happy ending. And maybe mine’s with somebody else; I mean, you never know. But this ship has sailed.”

Those words hit Weiss with the weight of a battering ram: not everybody gets a happy ending. That was too awful to even think about! Even though she knew Blake probably just meant with Yang, it felt too much like she meant in general. What a horrible prospect for her future. The room felt like it was spinning, the lights were fading, and wind rushed in her ears as she thought about Blake never finding love, never being with anyone, never…

She didn’t know what happened. Everything combined went to her head, probably. But the world seemed to go completely white - until she felt the soft palm pushing into her mouth.

“Weiss… no. D-don’t do that. It’s not going to help.”

Backing up, she felt her hands leaving Blake’s shoulders. The palm finally lowered, and her pursed lips popped open with a little gasp of surprise. What had she been doing? That wasn’t okay - and it really, really wasn’t okay that she seemingly had a blackout moment. But it didn’t take a detective to figure out what happened in that impulsive gap in her memory.

“Blake, I… I-” Pressing both hands to her own mouth, Weiss felt her own eyes going as wide as Blake’s. “No… oh no, oh no, oh no. What did I almost do?”

“You lost your head,” Blake whispered, shaking all over - from fear? From what? “It’s… okay, I’m okay. We don’t ever have to think about it again.”

“But I came so close to-” She took a couple more steps back. “Chee!”

Clenching and unclenching her hands, Blake swallowed hard and took a deep breath to give herself a second to think. “Weiss… listen. I know… I know we kind of… that we did some things in the bed, a-and that you really do care about me. This proves it. But you and Yang are made for each other. Don’t throw a monkey wrench into that over me being a little sad. It’s not worth it just for a little… new fun with a new fun-friend.”

The gangster princess slapped the sides of her head, hating how easy it was for her to be swept up in the moment and almost throw away the best thing about her life. And she kept feeling attractions for so many women! Old, young, long-time best friends, gangsters - mothers and daughters! It never meant she didn’t love Yang, or that she truly wanted to be with anyone else. Just that her emotions and hormonal urges were getting the better of her.

“Blake… thank you. For stopping me. Gee whiz, I feel like a fool!”

“Seriously, it’s alright. In fact…” Her cheeks were a little rosy now, even though she still mostly looked shaken up and regretful. “Weiss, I don’t know exactly how to say what I feel. But it’s… I’m, um, honoured? Maybe that’s not right, but, um… I didn’t expect you to want to kiss me for any reason.”

Feeling as if she had the rug pulled out from under herself, the world spinning, Weiss whispered, “Blake… who wouldn’t want to kiss you?”

The two of them were still staring at each other when they heard a muffled sound from the dining room. Blake whirled and pushed the door open, earning them an “OW!” from the other side.

“MOM!”

Kali looked quite sheepish, which was a new look for her. She rubbed the end of her nose as she cleared her throat and said, “Thought we had a policy about calling out before swinging this door open.”

“Were you… really going to just keep spying on us?” Blake already sounded like she was trying to convert her shock and confusion into anger with her mother, but it wasn’t truly working.

“It is my house.” Sighing, she reached up into her daughter’s unruly black locks, cupping the side of her head. “Oh, my little kitten… and you come here, too, Weiss.”

She did. As Kali embraced them both, she felt her eyes filling with tears. Again, she had to forcibly not think too deeply about the phrase ‘Belladonna sandwich’ - which was Kali’s fault in the first place. Everything was so impossible lately. How could she have come so close to wrecking her entire life for a fleeting moment? Even if it was… for Blake. Who was cool, and quiet, and strong. And who deserved someone who liked her and who she liked. It just didn’t have to be someone who was already taken, that was all.

“Sweet girls,” Kali was whispering into Weiss’s hair. She hadn’t even noticed she had been kissing the both of them off and on as she cradled them close. “It’s hard at your age. I know.”

“Let go, Mom.”

“No, honey. You need me right now.” Weiss was facing away from her, so she didn’t see what Blake did - but she did hear the gasp and could feel Blake hastily pulling away afterward. “BLAKE ADRIANA BELLADONNA!”

When Weiss turned, she saw that both of them were a little flushed, Kali scandalised and Blake surly. “Hey, you wouldn’t listen to me! I was done with the hugging!”

Now Weiss could see Kali’s arms were folded tightly over her ample chest - which at least answered that question. Pursing her lips for a moment, the Duchess leaned back against the door jamb, keeping the swinging door slightly open with her body. “Fine. Then we’ll skip ahead to explaining why you came so close to letting Weiss cheat on Yang.”

“What?!” When her mother didn’t budge, Blake looked down at the floor. “Mom… don’t do that. I was trying to stop her… I…”

“We both know that isn’t true. You might have been trying to stop her, but you weren’t stopping her. From the sound of things-”

“Peeping Tom!”

“-she got pretty close to kissing you. Weiss is a beautiful girl; neither of us are going to pretend otherwise. But this isn’t something you can play around with, Blake.”

“I wasn’t! I…” She swallowed hard, glancing at Weiss guiltily. “I’m really flattered that she wanted to, sure, but that’s not the same as letting her. And I wouldn’t, and I d-didn’t. Yang means way too much to me to hurt her like that.”

Kali sighed, looking down at her folded arms. “Then this is the only time anything like this has happened, hm?” The two girls could have lit up a lighthouse with their faces by that point. “At least you aren’t trying to deny it - which would be ridiculous, because I already know for a fact it isn’t. These walls aren’t soundproof.” That morning flashed back to Weiss, and her blush only deepened. “Even without that, it’s obvious. Maybe you’re too dizzy with ‘Spring Fever’ to see it for yourselves, but I’ve been able to tell the way you two are circling each other like birds ready to fill a nest with eggs.”

Weiss shook her head vigorously. “You’re wrong. I d-do like Blake, but not in that way. Or I mean… I’m in love with Yang. That’s it, that’s all there is to it.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“And it’s the same for me,” Blake sighed irritably. “Even though I’m not with her, it’s still… that’s it. Even if Weiss is…”

The way her voice trailed off caught Weiss’s attention instantly. “If I’m what?”

“Spring Fever in the Autumn,” Kali muttered in a sing-song tone.

“Mom, what are you doing?” Blake demanded. “Are you trying to get me and Weiss to make out or are you trying to get us to stop? Because I have to say, I feel like it’s both, and that’s really… confusing.”

With a sympathetic sigh, she reached up to pat her daughter’s flushed cheek. “I’m trying to get you to admit there’s a problem so you can fix it.”

“But there isn’t! I’m not in love with Weiss, I’m not in love with Yang - I don’t care about either of them like that! I just… I just w-want them to be happy, and they are, so leave it alone!”

“Like I said… you can’t fix it if you don’t admit there’s a-”

But then they heard a honk from the driveway. When Blake didn’t move a muscle, Kali held up a hand and retreated to the door. Weiss and Blake exchanged a glance. Even though they were flustered with all that had been revealed - against their will - safety was much more important. Blake went to the countertop and opened a cookie jar…

And pulled out a pistol.

“So that’s where it was,” Weiss breathed as she crept behind Blake, stomach burning with fear. But just as they were getting close to the living room, they heard Mrs. B’s voice ringing out from the front lawn.

“Blake, Weiss? I believe you have a visitor!”

What awaited them outside was just ridiculous enough to wipe literally every thought from Weiss’s mind. Blake also seemed to forget everything, the gun dropping from her limp fingers to the grass.

It was Yang. Somehow, because of the intensity of their conversation, she hadn’t heard her hog pull up. But this wasn’t a Yang she had ever seen before – in fact, she could only be identified by her bike. Her hair was stuffed up into ten-gallon hat, straight out of a Western. Her usual bodacious curves were covered by at least five or six winter coats, and overalls stretched over the entirety of the rest. Snowboots completed the “look”, such as it was. Even a scarf obscured her mouth and her nose, leaving only her sunglasses-covered eyes at least partially visible when seen from the right angle.

Weiss was the first to recover. “Uhh… what is…?”

“Hey!” Her voice was so muffled they could barely make out the words. “So… I was thinking…”

“No, you weren’t,” Blake said with the beginnings of a laugh. She was still too stunned to quite manage it; all three of them were. A bemused Kali had her hands on her hips, head cocked to one side as if changing the angle of her vision would help her make sense of it.

“I was! Anyway, um… so apparently you have this thing for me.” Blake’s smile vanished, but Yang rushed ahead, “It’s all gravy. Seriously! But I got to thinking, maybe if I didn’t look so hot all the time you wouldn’t have a problem. So maybe… if I wear all this stuff… kinda put the goods behind the counter…”

A long “Ohhhhhhhh” fell from Blake’s mouth. Then she did laugh - long, and hard, and deeply. Weiss and Kali joined in after a minute, only leaving the roly-poly Yang trying to fold her arms over her chest - and failing, since she couldn’t bend them that much with all those layers.

“Come on, guys! It ain’t funny!” Which only made it worse. Blake fell over, rolling around and gripping her stomach. “Wow! See if I ever do anything for you again, Belladonna!”

[boarchasers]

One For Another

((This needs the Read More, so I guess we’ll just have to deal with tumblr’s broken formatting.))

lycannalla:

Character Exploration Challenge I

Think back to a pivotal point in your character’s story. It may be them deciding to leave home, or deciding to join a guild. Maybe it’s a tragedy that put them on the path they’re on now. Whatever it is, consider what would happen if they didn’t make that choice or the opposite happened. Where would they be now? How would they be different? What would be the same? 

It wasn't hard to find the tent. The Nord inside might have been a hunter, but when it came to his camp, stealth was out of the question. A wolfhound was stretched out beside the fire, snuffling occasionally, and the sound of metal scraping on wood, accompanied occasionally by cursing, came from under the canvas.

Canvas was something of a misnomer, too. This was not, as tents went, a luxury example. It was barely a tent at all. A deep red cloak was held up by a pair of sticks and tied to a convenient pine tree and that, essentially, was that. Apart from some furs to sleep on, the only covering for the ground underneath was a thick mat of pine needles. They deadened the footsteps of anybody approaching. In theory. Frithjofr couldn't sneak through an empty, unlit cave in the middle of the night. He got as far as the fireplace before the dog jumped up and the scraping noise stopped.

'Who's there?'

The hem of the cloak was pushed back and a sullen, suspicious face, covered in a thin beard, looked out. When it saw the dog bouncing around Frithjofr's heels, it broke into a smile.

'Uncle Frith!'

''Lo. Minnel sent me up to look for you. Everything all right?'

'Just practising my carving. I'm not as good as Hjolrin.' Haaki held up the lump of wood he was working on in rough, hardened fingers, complete with a fresh scar across the knuckle. 'Um, it's supposed to be a fox.'

'Better'n anything I could do.'

'Sit down. I've got some potatoes I can cook.'

Giving Dog one last scratch behind the ears, Frithjofr settled himself on his knees beside the fire, scuffing up his leggins with soot. Haaki scraped some of the embers from the fire with his boot and dropped a couple of potatoes on them before sitting down himself. As soon as he was down Dog trotted over and rested his head in his master's lap. Haaki fondled his ears idly and asked,

'Why did Minnel send you? I'm fine. I'm not a kid any more.'

'You'll always be a kid to her.'

'Nobody ever goes looking for Hjoll, and she and Brandy're older than him, too. It's not fair.'

Haaki prodded the potatoes with a stick, and jabbed at one so hard that the skin burst. He swore under his breath, glanced guiltily around, and when Frithjofr didn't comment, did his best to poke the inside of the potato back inside. There was clearly something else on Frithjofr's mind. After picking up a stick of his own and twirling it between his fingers a few times, he said,

'Uh, 's not just about checking up on you.'

Haaki's hand stopped stroking Dog's head.

'It's about the Legion. Isn't it?'

'Uh. Aye. She wanted me to try 'n talk to you--'

'I know she did. You won’t change my mind.'

Unbidden, both of their heads turned, just for a second, to look at the cloak tent. There was an old, faded stain at one end, over where the chest would be if someone was wearing it. Haaki looked back to the fire first.

'She's worried,' said Frithjofr. Haaki concentrated all of his attention on the disembowelled potato.

'It wouldn't happen to me.'

'Could happen to anyone.'

'The war's practically over now.'

'It was practically over when--'

'You're not going to stop me. Minnel's tried and Brandy's tried and Hjolrin's tried and now you've tried, but I'm going to go anyway. It's... it's a point of honour, isn't it? You said you wanted to be in the Legion once.'

'Nah, said I respected the Legion. 'S different. I can't tell the pointy end of a sword from the other one. What good'd I be?'

'I'm trained. I'm good with a bow and better with a crossbow.'

There was a long silence, filled with Dog's sniffing and a log shifting in the fire. It wasn't until Haaki removed the potatoes and handed over the one still intact that Frithjofr said,

''M not gonna stop you. I just want to know you know what you're leaving behind. Somebody'll have to look after Dog--'

'Hjolrin will.'

'--and Finnr'll miss you. So will everyone. They've already lost one brother, one uncle. I mean, 'm not a Boar-Chaser, not properly, but I know how important you are to each other. That's obvious even to me. Minnel still keeps his shield on the wall. Hjolrin never talks to anyone since... y'know. And Brandy's always telling me he's going to sell his books, but he never does, and y'know why? Because you hold onto each other. They don't want to lose him for good and they don't want to lose you.' Frithjofr bit into the potato and mumbled around it, 'That's all I got to say.'

---------------------------------------------------

Frithjofr and Minnel deciding to leave for Cyrodiil is a pivotal point for every Boar-Chaser, so it seemed appropriate (and efficient) to use it for this prompt.

The first and most obvious result is that neither Minnel nor Finnr are killed by legionnaires, and Frithjofr doesn’t get into his various troubles. Instead he continues to help out on the Boar-Chaser farm, eventually moving into a small house of their own a little further west on the Whiterun Plains. There’s no Burd, and no nirngoats; they live a fairly humdrum and unremarkable life, raising Finnr amongst his family.

This leads to Frithjofr becoming a much calmer man. He has better control over his thoughts, and is less prone to amble into danger, but he’s also less sympathetic to people in difficult situations. His morals haven’t been challenged in the way they were during his Cyrodiil adventures. He continues to believe that Stealing Is Always Bad, never having experienced the desperation some people are forced to and with the constant presence of Trond (initially - we’ll get to that). Generally speaking, he’s not quite as sympathetic to people on the fringes of society, be they common thieves or followers of Sheogorath. He never meets a considerably number of his current friends, and if he does, the consequences may be quite, quite different - Tortulja and Luth, for example, wouldn’t find him so sympathetic, nor as endearingly stupid, and his close friendships with them would never have the chance to grow.

His cowardice is less likely to change, although the Boar-Chasers are quite insistent about what it means to be a Real Nord. Most of the time, if they will allow it, Frithjofr remains content to stay at home with Finnr while Minnel takes care of anything remotely courageous.

Having someone like Frithjofr around to compare himself to boosts Trond’s confidence further (as if it needs it). Knowing that his sister will still be around to help the family, and without the resentment the circumstances of her death fostered, Trond tries for the Legion again and this time, with the Civil War creating a constant demand for new troops, gets accepted. Unfortunately, unlike guard work, there’s no option of ducking into the nearest alley away from danger when things get rough. He’s struck down by a Stormcloak shortly after joining. His personal effects are sent home and divided among the remaining Boar-Chasers -- his shield goes to Minnel, his books go to Brandrel, his sword goes to Hjolrin and his cloak goes to Haaki.

With Minnel’s help, Brandrel survives his fight against the bear. The Boar-Chaser farm becomes his responsibility when Minnel moves out with Frithjofr, and he does a much better job at caring for it than Hjolrin, Trond and Haaki do in the real timeline. As much as Trond’s death upsets him, he tries to channel all of that emotion into his work, leaving no time to pursue his amorous interests in Rodda Cold-Tree (or anyone else, for that matter) but creating a thriving farmstead.

On the more definitively negative side, Hjolrin retreats into himself, as he does in the real timeline, but even more severely. Neither Minnel nor Brandrel are as skilled at bringing him out of himself as Trond was. Without Trond there running his mouth to fill any awkward silences, Hjolrin is even less likely to attend any social events, and he’s rarely obliged to since Minnel is still the official head of the clan. He’s never introduced to Arlain, and spends the majority of his time alone in his camp, isolating himself even from his family. Haaki is the only person who ever really talks to him, and in this world Haaki is usually busy pursuing his own independent hunting work.

Because without the same purpose Minnel’s death gave him, and not having been as close to Trond, it takes a while for Haaki’s innate passion for Vengeance!™ to manifest itself. He evidently maintains his stubbornness (and his personal belief that the world is unfairly biased against him), and his dedication to his family is just as strong, too; the difference is that this time he has more support, and from his favourite people, in dealing with the loss. He completes his apprenticeship with Hjolrin and, at his brother’s insistence on being left alone, sets up his own camp in the woods. He can be hostile to unexpected guests in case they turn out to be part of a Stormcloak scouting party, who will not find any sympathy from him.

Eventually, however, his nature gets the better of him, and his anger over losing a brother festers. This time, rather than run off to the Stormcloaks, he aims for the Legion, instead. He proves luckier than Trond. His ultimate fate would depend on the canonised outcome of the Civil War, but he is moved from infantry to archery, where he serves with honour until the war’s conclusion - not having the ulterior motive of hunting down Frithjofr means he never has any reason to desert. The psychological scars warfare leaves on him are nothing compared to his current path - in the end, it makes him a more disciplined, reasonable person, who better understands the fortunes of war and why Trond was taken from him.

He never spends time in Windhelm. Happily for him, this means he never runs into Hlenil. Unhappily, he never meets Sibby, either - and without his rebellious, adventurous side, it’s questionable whether she would show the same interest in him even if they did meet. Much like Frithjofr, Haaki doesn’t develop a lot of his closest friendships, either, and never adopts Splendid (the dog or the religious zeal).

[dentelle-grise]

Your Latest Trick - Chapter 21

(Loki x Reader NSFW) Long after everyone has stopped talking about Loki and his misdemeanors, his failed attempt to take over Midgard and his punishment, you meet him at a party.

All chapters to date at AO3 (50K, NC-17)

Tagging my rebloggers, commenters and other folk who asked. Please let me know if you want in (or out) of the list: @joanbushur, @frenchfrostpudding, @lovely-geek, @wolfsmom1, @sigridlaufeyson, @lokislonelylady, @monitoroutside, @daniissuchadani, @devilbat, @deadlydreamersecrets @helenisabel, @stardustandangelsfanfiction, @ely-seum, @wendyrobson1978, @the-ships-i-ship, @shemart101, @dreamourbrainout, @sadghostomg, @lokilover2000, @blobfishington, @lynneth1968-blog, @deaddecade, @nardo94 

Chapter 21

You inadvertently do something that shakes Loki’s trust in you and reveals a shocking secret from his past.  Meanwhile, Odin’s overconfidence with the Aether is more than raising eyebrows.

Hornace is sitting bundled in a reclining chair on the balcony.  He’s glum and clearly uncomfortable, but far better already than you ever could have hoped. His rapid recovery seems driven by his anger, but he’s still too weak to travel. You’re charged with bringing him in and changing his dressings.

“They should get rid of it before it swallows Asgard whole.” he mutters. He’s not really talking to you, more to the view of the city. “They don’t know what they’re doing. Not even the King.“ His voice falls to a whisper. ”Impetuous, excitable, foolhardy…”

He allows himself to be lifted and wheeled inside. 

None of his words seem to describe the stoic and proud Odin. Stubborn perhaps, but ‘foolhardy’? Hornace’s mood is soured by his injury, of course, and Odin is not his King. Might that make him more objective ?” You missed most of the explanations of their experiments that day after Odin’s speech, but you know what they’re trying to do - protect the realm.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you this.” He huffs. He must see your consternation and turns his head to look at the wall, away from you and the task you have to do, away from the wound. “He’s the only one who can call a halt.”

Hornace tenses himself but doesn’t flinch as you let the warm water flow over his skin. You feel proud you’ve got the temperature perfect. Here in the healing rooms you pour yourself into your tasks like nothing else existed.

Rather than recoiling from the damaged flesh, you find yourself admiring the precision of healer’s work there. Dwarves are so much smaller, how difficult it must have been knitting the skin together there.

“Beautiful.” You say. An inappropriate word, but he doesn’t seem offended, just raises a shaggy eyebrow and hazards a glance. “I mean… it’s healing beautifully.”

“So much the better, the sooner I’ll be out of here.”

    Your confusion resurfaces as soon as you leave the healing rooms. So you walk home alone along the battlements with only the rising wind for company. Soon it will be too cold for this route to be comfortable, but for now it’s fine. You welcome the wind in your hair and clothes. You try to let it blow away your cares.

You wonder who Loki will be tonight.

Your wonder about Loki and Sif, and Fandral and Sif and Thor…and Sif and you and what she can possibly be thinking of you now.

As if on cue, you spot them, Fandral and Sif, coming the other way along the narrow walkway. They must see you about the same time. You keep your pace steady.

When you draw close enough, you see that Fandral is carrying both their swords, so they can walk closer together. How cute. You try not to show you’ve noticed, try not to stare. Whatever the issue was this morning they’ve resolved it. You’re getting ready to greet them politely when Sif drops her hand from her lover’s waist and bounds ahead to meet you.

She’s not confrontational, just awkward, which is far worse.

“I would like to apologize, for my intrusion.” She bows her head. She’s as uncomfortable as you are. A thousand unvoiced questions hang in the air.

“A simple mistake. No need to worry.” you reply. It’s easier to say while she’s not looking at you.

Fandral catches up and Sif raises her head, catching your eye a second. There’s the tiniest something there, as though she thinks she understands you and seeks that spark of understanding in return.

You don’t know how to react. You don’t try to process it. It’s at such cross purposes to your true situation. You stand there at a loss and the moment passes.

“Look.” says Fandral, oblivious, breaking the silence.

He’s pointing toward the tournament field where there’s a group of figures, your mother and Odin among them. You see that Odin is holding Gungnir and, mounted on the end of the famous staff, is something glowing a familiar red. Odin points it into the field where there is still some fallen masonry waiting to be cleared.

There’s a shot of light and the block of stonework simply explodes into nothing leaving a puffy cloud of dust. The people applaud and their cheers are carried to you on the wind. You look at the place the stonework had been as the dust clears.  Hornace’s worries were unfounded it seems, if the dark elves return now they run the risk of annihilation by their own magic.

But then you notice something dark in the dust.  Something falling away, sucking the dust somewhere, like a mouth in the ground.  A growing mouth.

The figures in the party draw back and move closer together.

Then Odin steps forward and you have your heart in your mouth ‘foolhardy and impetuous’? What has become of him since Frigga passed?  But he has Gungnir, now free of the red appendage, and he swings it above his head until its moving so fast you can hardly see it and the movement lets off a hum.  The rest of the group retreat still further. 

Odin lets out a great cry and the swirling air above his head falls toward the advancing abyss, just yards from his feet.

The hum stops and the enchantment lands like a net over the hole, straining as it’s pulled from below. Nothing moves, the hole neither growing nor retreating. The magic holds. 

There’s a collective sigh of relief but no clapping this time. Sif and Fandral are still staring incredulous at the scene. You quietly slip away.

    Loki’s coat is slung over the back of one of your chairs, claiming territory. That soft leather coat, long and so familiar, is very much his, not hers.

The man himself is standing facing the window, hands linked behind his back. Hearing you, he turns revealing an expression as hard and cold as a stone wall. Something has happened. He’s strained, tired, and angry. Could it be about his father’s actions

Thiere’s no trace of the honest ardor of yesterday nor the mischievous grin of this morning. He looks full on at you with a cold fire in his eyes and it hits you. It’s you he’s angry with.

“Darling” he says, without an ounce of affection. “When I said ‘tell no one’ I meant no one.”

“What?” you take a step closer and he rounds on you defensively, ready to spring, and not in a good way.

“I say to ‘tell no one’” he repeats slower and harsher, “and you spill every Intimate detail to the most vicious gossip in Asgard.”

“What? Who?” What can you have said or done to bring about this change? In a rush you think through every word of every conversation, you’ve had… Sif, Fandral, Hornace, the healers, the girls…

It’s true that people around you have noticed something different about you. How could they not. Your mother prised a few details from you, Fandral understood there was something, and as for Asta and Dagny, they are also very close to knowing. but you never let slip the truth to any of them. And not one of them could be called the ‘most vicious gossip in Asgard’.

Asta might be excitable, but she’s sweet, never nasty. You guess she was the closest, if she thought Loki was once your ‘sweetheart’.

“But my friend she…”

“Told everything to anyone who would listen. Details about my ‘stamina’, about how many times…” he spits. “But worst of all that I’m alive and in Asgard.”

“What, I never.”

“Fortunately, it went no further than the stables,”

What? Now you’re lost, you don’t know anyone who works in the stables, at least not personally.

“The damage control we’ve had to do.” He sighs. “All because you had to confide in your ‘faithful steed.’”

But…What? Not Asta but…

“Nara?!”

Of course. The first day out on the moors you had indeed told Nara., you had to tell someone about Loki’s return, you’d been bursting with it and, no, you hadn’t spared any details.

“But I thought it was safe. What harm could possible come…I didn’t think she could. She’s only…” You stop yourself but its too late.

“Only a horse. just a dumb animal, a stupid nag,?” his voice mounts. If he was angry before, that was nothing compared with this. You tell yourself not to be scared. It’s not fair. You didn’t know you could do harm this way, you just hope he can understand that.

“I’m supposed to be dead. Asgard is full of those who betrayed me, if ever the truth was known…”

“What?” You don’t quite reach his volume and that one brave word is weak and wavering but at least it’s there.

You didn’t know he could be this way. He’s livid, but more than that he’s hurt and you don’t know why. You reach for him. You want to coax out the other Loki – the one who teased you about telling on him when you were little – but he dodges and steps away.

“I’d have to leave again.” He says after a moment, “and there’s still so much I’ve got to do.” He starts pacing.

“I’m sorry”. You try. That stops him in his tracks and he looks back at you confused.

“We’re lucky her reputation is so bad. Most didn’t believe her.” He sounds calmer, like he’s trying to reign in his anger, but he won’t meet your eyes. “Perhaps she is ‘just a horse’ to you but she’s a skilled rumormonger who’ll speak ill of anyone to get a laugh or get you on her side. I would truly admire the disorder she makes if it weren’t solely out of hate. She was just waiting for a way to get to me again.”

“Again?” You think you know.

“You couldn’t know.” He sinks down on the bed, resting his head on one hand, hiding his face.

“Sleipnir?”

“ You do know then.” He drops his hand and you see his eyes shining.

“Fandral said-”

“Fandral.” He roars, jumping to his feet.

“He said that Thor. “

“Thor! And what other gems did Thor share about my life.”

“I don’t know.” You’ve got to calm things, boy is he volatile. “It was when you were dead. One evening they were telling stories. I got too upset to stay and listen.”

He softens slightly at that, and starts pacing again.

“She would say that I’d never be a true horse. They were all saying it.” He mutters in a lower, hateful tone. “But I would have. I would have stayed. If he’d loved me back.” You keep quiet, in part from shock, in part because you know it’s the best way to get him to go on.

“She never let me forget.” He sighs. “Jealousy. Pure and simple.”

“And she’d call Sleipnir ‘the clumsy spider’. Behind my back of course, but so I’d know. She and the others. Always little remarks about the ‘L.E.G.S.’ She got them all saying it. Hilarious.” he adds without humor.

“Of course that changed when he was grown.” And at last you see the hint of a smile.

“But I would have stayed. If he’d only come back.” You are trying to picture it all and keep down your panic about it being true, while he’s having a pity party about slights from a bunch of horses and unrequited love for some unnamed stallion. The ridiculousness of it hits you, but you can’t laugh. You step over to him and put your arms around him, trying to break him out of it. He doesn’t resist.

“Well you’re not a horse Loki, you’re a man, this is you.” you stroke your hand down the length of his arm. He doesn’t push you away so you take his face in your hands and make him look at you. “I love you as you are, the real you.” He doesn’t respond. Not even the rawness of your confession shakes him out of it.

Then it hits you. Loki already has a child! A secret child and you wonder, if Loki can turn into a horse can Sleipnir transform himself into a person? You can’t get your head around it. Loki has done crazy and, some say, terrible things, things you have pushed these to the back of your mind, incompatible as they are with what you have always known of him. But the hints you had of his doings were of violence and deluded world conquest, not of passing time as a pregnant mare, quietly bearing and rearing a foal in the prairies of Asgard while bickering with other horses.

It’s near impossible to picture him as he is here, elegant, poised, sad, but beautiful and to imagine him as a horse. If he hadn’t just told you, if you didn’t know his prowess at transformation, if the story hadn’t come from Thor, if it wasn’t for the desolate look on this face…You would think it was a prank.

“It was a prank that went awry, terribly awry.” He looks away from you and out into the gathering night. “But I’d do it again.”

“Loki, do you want more children?”

He stiffens and you curse yourself. You hadn’t meant it like that, through transformation and magic. What had you meant? it shrieks of a demand for commitment – You’ve only made things worse again. What if the only being that Loki ever had commitment to was this uncaring stallion.

I should have known.” he says slinging himself on the bed.

What should he have known? Known about you? You said you loved him and he ignored it. You don’t know if you’re forgiven. How much of his reaction is your betrayal and how much is his memories?

His face is turned resolutely away from you and into the pillow. He’s fully dressed, a thick layer of leather between you and him, protecting him from any comfort you would bring. You don’t feel great about bringing comfort. It’s you that hurt him, what matter that it was an accident. At least he stayed, when he could have simply disappeared the same way he first brought you here, He’s deep inside himself but at least he’s here with you.

You hug him from behind while he lies there stiffly, never softening into sleep.

Finally, you doze yourself, your cheek against the leather. You only wake when you hear the door close and realize he’s gone. He chose to take the door though. He wanted you to know. He’s walked out angry and with no resolution… You can’t let that happen.

In a second you’re out the door.

He’s moving fast, but not running and you’re chasing, barefoot and silent. It’s déjà vu, like in the gardens before the attack, or in the palace that first night. He could magic himself away, you’re sure of it. If he doesn’t its that he wants you to follow him, or else he’s too distraught. You don’t understand. It seems like the problem was solved, no one believed Nara, so where is the problem. Why is he running away?

You chase him though the corridors of the palace, wondering when you will meet someone or when he will disappear. You try not to lose sight of that flash of green, but you round a corner and find yourself alone. When he’s run from you before he always wanted you to follow. This time you’re not so sure.

There’s no sign of him. You’re miles from your rooms. The night has never seemed so silent.

Then out of the gloom a figure breaks away from the darkness, your heart leaps as the it moves silently toward you, slowly, so slowly almost stumbling.

“Loki?”

There’s no answer. The figure advances.

Chapter 22

[black-strike-otp]

part 63

*incoherent noises and babbling as I slowly die* <3

Flinching from the digits goading his backside, Blackout recoiled and leaned forward with a monstrous and threatening snarl.

“You know, it wouldn’t hurt so much if you just sat still.”

“I only move when you goad your digits into my frame,” Blackout countered with annoyance. “Therefore, I’m not the problem here.”

“Are you suggesting I’m the problem?” the medic inquired in a tone so frigid with malice it could probably freeze a mech on the spot.

Tick the femme off who had tools near his spinal strut and risk being impaled or paralyzed, or be honest and tell her she was a barbaric twisted manic like just about every other medic he’d ever met. Decisions, decisions...

Lucky for him, she decided not to prob him further for his answer. On the down side, she decided to make sure he knew who was boss by probing him inside his frame.

Blackout narrowed his optics slightly at the flare up of pain; the light within them going almost black as his mood turned more sour. He’d been pent up for days since Novastrike’s departure in that slagging room with other mechs and femmes. No outlet, no work, no job or motion just told to sit and to heal.

Sitting was not his purpose in life. He was a mech of motion; action spoke louder than words. Energy coursed his veins. Becoming a stationary decoration was not who he was, it was against his very being. If you stopped moving, you simply ceased existence.

Something cool pressed into the exposed protoform of his back and allowed himself to relax slightly. Whatever it was, it was a lot better than the pestering sharp utensils and digits.

“You’re coming along nicely,” the medic informed him with a calmer voice. “Considering your backside was an enormous shrapnel mess and the super-heated burns on your shoulder and burns grazing your chassis and well- everything else considered.”

“Thanks, doc,” the obsidian mech quipped in short reply.

The femme gave a testy ‘tut tut’ as she went on, “Well I can’t help it if you threw yourself at just about every bot we encountered. You can’t blame me for how battered you were. Your protoform’s going to have some obvious bruising and soreness for a while. I expect you’re going to have some lovely new scarring from that encounter you had with a thermo blade.”

Blackout grunted in response. “I’ve been shoved into furnaces by previous masters,” he blatantly informed her. “I know what heat is capable of.”

“Yet you were going to allow it to sever your arm?”

“I was careful.”

The medic snorted with disbelief though said nothing more on the matter.

Scanning his optics around the room from his vantage point, Blackout spoke up in a slightly more anxious tone: “Where’s Scorponok?”

“Recharging in a different room. I’m guessing you didn’t feel him nearby?”

The obsidian mech shifted uncomfortably, both from whatever the femme was plucking at on his backside and the edgy feeling he got at the femme mentioning how he couldn’t feel his partner. Bonds were a private matter. He didn’t much care for others making suggestions on his, true or not.

“Don’t worry, he’s coming along nicely. I’ve still got some replacement’s to put into his drill. You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to re manufacture sections of armor for an appendage on a minicon. Especially a minicon with such a complex system.”

“He’s not that complex,” Blackout defended.

“Maybe not a mech whose taken care of him for eons,” the femme agreed. “But his formatting is pretty unique compared to other patients I’ve taken care of. That’s part of the reason it’s taking so long to repair.”

Giving a short vent, the hulking ebony figure turned his helm slightly away as the femme moved to inspect his side. He followed the placement of her servos on him to determine where she wanted him to move his arm as she looked over the seams of his armor. With a click, she began removing plating to look over the burns and damage beneath the smooth surface of his buffed plates.

With a gentle mental nudge, he poked Scorponok through the bond to see if the scorpion was awake or not. There was no direct response, but there was a haze clouding his thoughts. Recharging indeed; his defenses were down, the barrier between them gone as the bug rested.

At least judging by this, he was comfortable and resting peacefully. Not in any sort of pain. He gently closed the imaginary door between them so that his own thoughts wouldn’t bleed into the small mech’s and wake him up.

As the femme walked in front of him and started peering at his chassis armor and examining his faceplate and helm, Blackout offlined his optics. The light blinked out with a wink of light and shuttered closed as he played a game of tolerance. His thoughts drifted with boredom. Thinking of the benign femme he cared so deeply and fondly for.

The way Novastrike’s optics burned with a gleaming light, the shape of her smile when, the sound of her bubbly laughter. His spark trembled with longing. She visited when she could but the tiny femme was busy with her acting position as commander. Slag he missed her, he missed being useful. He missed holding her in the wee jours of darkness and listening to the sound of her quiet breathing and the peaceful look on her face when she was recharging, or the light brush of her servos against him as though he was the fragile one of the two of them. Such care and beauty and-

A few accidental octaves of refracted musical notes, deep and opaque as his armor filled the air. Blackout’s optics flashed with light as they opened with humiliation. The blinding hues of crimson locking on to the medic’s as she glanced up to his face with some surprise.

His expression instantly grew cross as the femme offered a shrewd little smile.

“Something on your processor, big and scary?”

“That’s none of your business or concern.”

“Well that’s not the tone you should be using towards a medical official,” the femme announced with disapproval. “I should see about popping you open just to make sure that that wasn’t the sound of a damaged spark...”

“Try it, and I promise you a very unpleasant response,” Blackout rumbled threateningly.

“Always so touchy,” the femme muttered, shaking her helm as she turned her gaze back to her work. “You know I did spend time learning the basis of personality disorders, behaviorism, psychology-”

“Great, so you’re constantly deducing our motives and actions. Fascinating.”

“What I was going to say,” the medic seethed, “is that I know a thing or two about the reactions and reasons behind the actions of our thoughts and our bodies. Mind you I’m not the most experienced, but I don’t exactly hear someone’s spark singing every day...”

Blackout turned his optics nervously to the side. To deny it would give the femme reasonable cause to pop his chassis open like a can. To admit that that was indeed as she suspected was simply unacceptable. It was his spark, his reaction, and it had nothing to do with the harassing femme in front of him.

“You going to tell me what’s it all about or do I get to guess?” the medic teased as she worked.

Ah, to Pit with it. Folks suspected it anyway.

“Just thinking about Novastrike,” he confessed softly.

“As I suspected.”

Blackout swallowed at the tightening feeling in his throat. He surprised even himself as he whispered out the next words, his voice wavering and dripping with emotion as he faintly mumbled, “I... Do you have some manual, or advice, as to how a bot... goes about confessing feelings to another?”

The medic brought her helm up with a snap so fast, Blackout winced at the idea of the whiplash that may have caused in her neck cables.

“Pardon?” she asked, her optics a bit wider now.

“I... nevermind,” he muttered, flustered and frustrated.

With her optics softened, the femme leaned back a bit. “I’m afraid programs exist as far as I know on how to properly express one’s emotions. Which one are you trying to explicitly voice?”

“Nothing,” Blackout growled, growing vexed now.

“Maybe a femme or a medic’s standpoint would help you. What is it you’re having problems with?”

“Forget I said anything.”

“I’m your medic, my job is to help.”

“I’m done with this conversation.”

“Well I’m not,” the medic remarked. “So tell me, or try talking me through this thing you’re having trouble with, and with who-”

“By the Well of Allspark,” Blackout snarled as he turned to look the femme in the optics. “Love, okay? Are you happy now? I don’t know how to tell Novastrike that I love her.”

The anger instantly vanished from his faceplate with one of dismay.

“Oh, dear,” the medic laughed softly.

“This isn’t a laughing matter,” snapped the giant mech.

Still laughing, the femme shook her helm as she babbled, “Oh no no no no, I’m sorry- I don’t mean to laugh,” she snickered, “Dear, I’m only laughing because this is nothing new to me.”

Puzzled, Blackout drew his optic ridges together.

“Guard and I have known you loved her for some time,” the femme cackled. “It was obvious. The way you looked at her, the fact you stuck around for so long, how you came to her defense at the flick of a switch-”

“You could cease laughing about it,” he simmered furiously. “It’s not very humorous.”

“Oh I’m sorry, I’m sure it’s not,” she agreed as her giggles faded out.

Raising an optic ridge, the mech gave a thoughtful rumble in his chassis as he spoke faintly, “Guard knows?”

“Brought it up to me, actually,” the femme stated.

Primus, everyone knew before him? Figures when he couldn’t determine what his own feelings were in the first place.

“Don’t act so surprised,” she went on, continuing her scans once more as she spoke, “you were pretty obvious. As if the great and powerful Blackout, king of darkness, ruler of the Pits of Kaon, terrifying ender of worlds simply stuck around because he wanted to take some down time.”

Ignoring her playful jabs, Blackout decided to take a stab in the dark. “You didn’t exactly offer your professional opinion on my question.”

There was a slight pause in the medic’s examination once more, and then she stated in the calmest most breezy of voices, “I don’t think any bot is capable of telling you how to move forward from here. I will give you one solid piece of advise, though. Don’t wait forever. Don’t put it off. Frankly, mech up and speak your mind, because if you hold back what your spark wants, if you try waiting for that perfect moment, you’ll never find it. There will always be something holding you back.”

She was right.

Blackout hated to admit it, but she was. If he continued to bite his glossia, doubting and second-guessing, he’d never know the truth of how she felt and he’d never be able to open up about his own. And he could hardly stand the torture of a world where one day she may slip through his digits because he couldn’t utter a few words and take a chance.

His life was full of chances. What was one more?

But at the risk of losing her... the way her optics lit up, the sway of her hips, the slight of servo just to touch her. He remembered how her breath caught in her throat at the barest of contact and how he could swear he felt the pounding of her spark just beneath armor. Humming, singing, beating with anticipation. Actions and reactions from the touch of a devil who knew little shame and couldn’t resist himself.

She burned a fueling fire in his empty shell of a body he called home all his life that he didn’t even know was possible. Novastrike opened a world up to him he didn’t know existed; multiple universes of possibilities, chances, places, feelings. It brought life to darkness, awakened deadened parts and sections of the core of his being that never had a chance to grow and learn and prosper under a gentle touch and warm smile. He learned a whole new way of life, entirely different and unbearably enjoyable.

He gave up being a Decepticon for her. Gave up his career, his pride, his ego; he dropped it all to follow a new path he felt drawn to. And in that new path he was better. Whole. And he couldn’t find a single reason to regret giving any of it up. What did any of that matter? It didn’t make him happy. It only gave him a sense of purpose he craved so desperately all his life.

The problem still stirred within him though. He was a mech of facts and rational. And for what reason would he chance throwing out his feelings and risk losing the best relationship he’d ever had besides Scorponok? The closest friend he had, a trustworthy comrade, a friendly and delightful presence that warmed his life?

The medic had one thing true. If he allowed his fear to guide him away from something truly special, he would never know what could lie in wait for him.

He couldn’t say how long his thoughts had drifted, but the medic stood up straight and stretched upward to the ceiling. The sound of her grunt brought him back from his own thoughts and he stared at her steadily.

“You’re still not 100%, but you’re definitely stable and I’d say, free to go back to your quarters, so long as you check in for checkups,” the femme remarked. “I’ll have Scorponok moved back in here after the rest of my appointments of course and will keep you updated on his condition.”

She looked Blackout in the face then, and took a step back quickly.

“Primes, mech, are you feeling alright?”

Blackout frowned a touch. “Yes. Why?”

“Your optics just look- nevermind,” she muttered, shaking her helm. She raised her servo and waved it to the door. “You’re free to go.”

Frowning a little deeper, Blackout stood up from the flat slab of metal and headed for the door. With a glance over his shoulder he watched the femme walk over to another patient in the room. He paused by a set of her tools, glancing curiously at the reflective surface.

The scarlet of his optics was burning so brightly it almost had a tangible glow around them.

Embarrassed, he set a dimmer on his optics and lowered his helm as he walked out of the room, nearly running into the bot walking by.

“Watch where you’re going!”

“My apologies-” Blackout stated immediately, and then met the optics of the mech he walked into.

Neutroboost sneered at him with that stupid look on his faceplate.

Deadpanning at the mech, Blackout’s expression went from apologetic to serious in less than a nanoklik. “I take it back,” he growled, “I’m not sorry.”

“You should be you giant dolt! I’m not your teeny femme after all, you can actually see me.”

A dangerous rumbled pressurized through Blackout’s armor. It caused his frame and the nearby metal to vibrate from the low tones it struck.

“Hard to apologize to an arrogant, vain, pompous mech who was missing the entire fight against the Revenge II,” Blackout scolded.

“I had other priorities.”

“I bet your aft did, you low-life cowardly scum.”

Neutroboost went to stand a bit taller on the tips of his pedes as his optics went wide. “You take that back you- you imbecile!”

“Or what?” Blackout challenged, allowing a sinister grin to grow on his faceplate.

The smaller mech’s optics blazed with fury as he raised his arms, throwing them up in the air wildly. “You’ll see, you good-for-nothing moron! Stomping around carelessly, running into bots-”

“At least I didn’t hide in my room during the fighting and let everyone save my aft. Some commander you are Neutroboost, bravo, we should give you a medal.”

Lowering his arms, the smaller mech released an angry huff.

Satisfied, Blackout turned, purposefully whacking his side against the mech’s as he went to walk by.

Neutroboost stumbled into the wall. He whispered loudly as Blackout passed, just enough to make sure he was heard, “Buffoon's almost as dense as that femme.”

Before the mech could react, Blackout pivoted hard on his pede and swung around to nail a fist into Neutroboost’s side. The satisfying crunch of his armor as he punched him was quite the rewarding musical.

Hitting the floor hard, Blackout raised a pede and pressed it against the mech’s neck. Neutroboost sputtered and hissed, gagging as he reached up to claw at Blackout’s pede with his flimsy little digits.

“What did you just call my femme?” Blackout barely whispered, dangerously pressing his pede further into the mech’s throat.

“Get off me-” Neutroboost wheezed.

“You so much as breath a word of insult to her, about her, or around her and I’ll crush your helm into scrap, you got that?”

“Off-” Neutro raspily gasped.

“Are we clear?” Blackout practically roared, raising his voice now as he pressed his weight further into the mech. “If you touch her, hurt her, upset her so help me I will tear you apart piece by piece until there’s nothing left of you, you sniveling gutless bastard.”

Huffing and puffing desperately and with fear, Neutroboost tried in vain to tear at Blackout’s leg armor. He barely managed to scuff at the paint.

Leaning down, Blackout rumbled in the depths of his chassis. “You’re a disappointment to every bot on this ship,” he growled. “Everyone here tolerates you on behalf of Guard. You should be grateful he keeps you on the ship, let alone as a commander. You spit your foul venom and you threaten and bark orders that you won’t even take. You’re nothing but a spineless weakling. I’m through with playing nice with you. I’ll tear out your beating spark and squash it between my digits if I must. I’ve done it before, and I’ll done it again.”

“You better watch what you say and what you do,” he continued. “Because I can deal with the consequences of my actions if I have to remove you permanently from this ship, one way or another. You, on the other servo, won’t get the chance. Spit and fume all you want, but your attitude helps no bot on this vessel. And so help me, Novastrike deserves better than to work beside your cowardly, blubbering, patronizing aft. You offend her in the slightest, I’ll break your neck. Are we clear?”

Neutroboost turned a panicked, if not furious optics up to him. The light flickered and flashed in irregular intervals as he tried to nod his helm.

Lifting his pede, Blackout slowly placed it on the floor once more beside Neutroboost.

The older commander snorted and snuffled. Placing a servo to the floor he raised himself up slightly as he retched and purged up strings of energon from his mouth and upon the floor.

“Blackout?”

Raising his helm, Blackout glanced down the hall to see a concerned Guard hobbling swiftly in their direction. His faceplate showed extreme levels of alarm as he teetered over.

“Is everything okay?” the old mech huffed, looking down at Neutroboost as he shivered and whined.

“Everything’s fine,” Blackout stated absently, offering a warm smile towards the elder mech. “He just slipped.”

Guard didn’t look entirely convinced as he met Blackout’s optics, but didn’t counteract or ask for verification on the matter.

Nodding respectfully to the old bot, Blackout turned back to head down the hallway. He could hear Guard trying to question Neutro as he rasply informed the elder mech to ‘sod off’ and ‘leave him alone’.

Poor, sad, pathetic little mech. He wasn’t taking Blackout’s warning very seriously. Maybe he’d have to offer him another example later, but at the moment, he had somewhere he had to be.

[wellmeaningshutin]

Short Story #102: Parasitic Self Absorption.

Written: 4/23/2017                                                       Romantic Intermission

When Brandy was a child, her mother would always tell her how perfect she was, as long as she always won the pageants. Now, her pageant days have always seemed to her to be an important time in her life, but whenever she tried to remember anything specific, she would usually draw a blank, but could definitely remember the vague sense of confidence and perfection. And, in the end, that was all that really mattered to her, because who gave a shit about how she got to where she was today, all that mattered is who she was, or, what she thought of herself, and she thought of herself as perfect. Other words were rarely used to describe herself, and other terms, like “beautiful” or “gorgeous”, would be seen, by her, as an insult, because those words could describe so many other women, while perfection was the only way to describe herself. Sure, her self absorption may have alienated some people, but why would she want to deal, or even care about, anyone else when she had herself? Who could even compare?

A good amount of her time was spent around mirrors, especially in her house, which had mirrors at every angle so that she could place her focus on anywhere in the room, and would still be able to see herself. It was a nice touch, but most of the time her focus was just on the mirrors anyways. Because of her obsession with her own appearance, she was often slightly upset whenever she interacted with other people, because they were able to talk to her, to look at her, and bask in everything that was great about her, while she had to put her focus on somebody below herself. Sometimes she would only stare into a makeup mirror when trying to interact with other people, but for reasons she had trouble understanding, they seemed to not like it when she did that. The best explanation, in her eyes, was that they were upset because they were entitled. It wasn’t enough for them to be graced with a conversation with Brandy, they also wanted to feel her perfect attention on them, they wanted to see her eyes at the best angle possible, they thought that just because she was at peak levels of beauty, they would have the right to stare at her, as if she were just some sort of object for their own enjoyment. It made her bitter, mainly because she never realized that her personality was rotten enough to undermine any advantage that her looks could have given her, and that she was so ridiculously vein that she made other people self conscious about becoming that self absorbed, making them try to avoid compliments or any positive ideas about themselves.

She was also bitter about the fact that she had to be at the peak of human perfection, since everyone else was below her, and there was nobody that she could date that would meet her standards. Whenever she became lonely enough to try dating, or  even one night stands, she would have to hide her feelings of resentment towards the fact that all of those people got to kiss, fuck, and talk to her, and she could never do any of that with herself. Kissing a mirror just wasn’t the same, because her image wasn’t enough, she wanted to feel her own lips pressing against her lips, instead of cold, hard glass. However, she did find some comfort in knowing that whoever she had been with would have to deal with the misery of having had the best sex of their lives, causing every other encounter of theirs to be hollow and worthless. Relationships were just out of the question, mainly because she knew that it would be unfair to try to be with somebody, while in love with another person (herself).

Yet, her opinions on that changed when she had gotten to know Brandon.

The way they met was unknown to Brandy, because she had woken up next to him after a long night of drinking, and didn’t remember too much after her eight shot. She was only out drinking to try to get over a particularly nasty spell of heartache, and had no intentions to end up with somebody, so it was baffling that she would end up in somebody’s home. So, worried that he had slipped something into a drink of hers, worried that he had been entitled like the others, Brandy had woken him up with a fist to his nose. At first he didn’t say anything, he just grabbed his nose, and fell out of the bed, only wearing a pair of boxers, confused about what the hell was happening, who attacked him in his sleep. As he was trying to figure out what was happening, Brandy sat up in the bed, looming over the bleeding guy on the floor, and screamed, “Who the fuck are you! Did you fucking slip me something?!”

“What?” he screamed back, voice muffled by the hand over his mouth, covering the blood that was leaking out of his throbbing nose.

“What am I doing here? Who the fuck do you think you are, to-”

“Wait, what? Did you not remember-”

“If I remembered would I be yelling like this?! Would I be asking what happened if I knew what happened? What sort of stupid fucking question-”

“I mean, I was just-”

Throwing a pillow at his face, “Don’t interrupt me! I chose my words very carefully, very fucking deliberately, and its fucking insulting to be interrupted! Now, tell me, what the hell happened.”

“Uh,” not knowing if he should be angry about the possible broken nose, or understanding since they were both pretty wasted at the time, he eventually decided on both, “Okay, so, last night, I went to the bar to get a couple drinks, just to unwind, and I ended up drinking a little more than I expected to. I guess I must have been more bitter about my ex than I thought I was, because a single beer turned into several long island iced teas, and-”

Putting her hands into her face, “Jesus fucking Christ, I don’t give a shit about what you were doing in the bar.”

“What?”

Moving her hands away and staring at him with intense disdain, “Me! I want you to talk about me. What you did with me to lure you into such a fucking dump like this!” Gesturing towards the dirty clothes on his floor, the smashed picture frames, the piles of cut up photographs on his dresser, “Because I know that I would never willingly allow myself to be in a place such as this.”

“Okay, so I was-”, one of her eyes twitched, “-I mean, you were pretty drunk.” Immediately, she was calmer, but still tense, “You were at the end of the bar for a while, staring into some mirror that you had brought along, downing shots as if you had something to prove by it, but the only thing that came out of it was you becoming a shit faced wreck.” Brandy believed that it was impossible for her to become any sort of wreck, but she let that one slide, “Eventually the bartender had to cut you off, which was surprising because I only drink at that place since the management has a rule where bartenders are never allowed to cut people off. I think they’ve had one or two people die of alcohol poisoning in there, and I have no fucking idea of how they even stay in-” again, the eye twitch, “Okay, so you were able to get drunk enough for them to cut you off,” this was easily true, because she knew that she was too perfect for them to allow any harm to come towards her, “and then you started doing some really strange burlesque like dance… it was.. I mean, it made people uncomfortable, and usually I thought that guys were all for women getting drunk and stripping, but you had singing involved, and there was something… child like that make the whole thing just fucking creepy, and eventually-”

“Love the story by the way, love hearing about myself, but just one correction.” Throwing the other pillow into his face, almost knocking him over, “There’s no way that I made them uncomfortable, there is no way that, god damn it. Don’t fucking make things up! Don’t waste my precious time!”

Confused, putting his hands up in a meek surrender, “Okay, uh, I’m sorry. So, uh, you decided to walk out on your own-”

“That sounds right.”

“And some guys called you a cab, and everyone just kind of hoped that you would get home safely. About a half hour later I realized that I was starting to get pretty far gone, and I decided-”, Brandy rolled her eyes at all of his I’s, “that I would just get a cab or whatever, and then head home, and then I noticed that you were still outside of the bar. It really fucked with my head to see you out there, and then you walked up to me and started calling me ‘Brandy’, and started kissing me. I got really worried that I was taking advantage of you, and then I started worrying that you were taking advantage of me, but before I knew it we were in a cab together, and then you came back here and, well, before anything serious could happen you threw up on my rug,” pointing to a towel on a rug, in front of the bed, “and then I pretended that I had passed out while you sat over me and tried to brush my hair. At some point I must have actually passed out and then, well, here we are.”

For a short while it had seemed like Brandy had simply turned off, she only sat and stared at him blankly, with no sign of emotion, or any sort of thought, to her, but she was only trying to figure out if his story was valid. It would be reasonable for her to be the one who pursued him, especially if she was drunk enough to mistake him for herself. If she was lucky enough to find herself, why wouldn’t she try to do everything that she could? Yet, how could this pathetic man get mistaken for herself, what sort of resemblances did he have to her? As she studied his features, his build, the size of his hands, the color and length of his hair, she realized that he was sort of like a male version of herself. When she squinted, it was easy for her to think that he resembled her a good amount, and then she realized how lucky she had been, what she needed to do. Life returned to her face, and she seemed compassionate, “Oh, poor guy, I can’t believe I hit you then. I can’t believe I put you through all of that,” fluttering her eyelashes, “how could I ever forgive you?”

Now, Brandon was generally a reasonable guy, and he should have known that Brandy was trouble, which would only be made worse by any sort of sexual activity with her, but he was typically unreasonable in these types of scenarios. He was the type of guy who would melt whenever a girl gave him a compliment, the type of person who would try to adapt the personality of whoever he was dating, hoping that doing so would please them in some way, so he was willing to look past the hitting, because she really didn’t remember the other night, so it was reasonable for her to assume the worst. However, in the moment he forgot her other behavior, and made a mistake that would ruin his life, because after she was done with him, Brandy had walked out of that house as his official girlfriend.

Brandon was the type of guy who fell for girls with the same velocity of an asteroid that entered the Earth’s atmosphere, and this was only made worse by falling for a girl who felt the same way about herself. Usually it took several months, at most, for girls to finally get fed up or creeped out by his obsessive behavior, his unflinching devotion, his need to be like the girl he loved, but these were only benefits for Brandy, even if she had to choke down her distaste for him in the moment, because she knew where she wanted him to end up. It wasn’t long before their conversations about how beautiful she was were used to point out the physical similarities between them, which lead to a couple of jokes, from Brandy, about how if he was a woman they would look exactly alike, and would both be able to be the perfect woman. Eventually the jokes started to wear away, and she would tease him into letter her do his makeup, or try on some of her clothes, which he fit perfectly, two acts that, after they were first done just to laugh about, started to become something he needed to do before she even considered touching him. If he ever tried to refuse, she would act shocked and hurt, would asked him what had changed in him that made him start to resent her, and his guilt would build and build until his desire would take over, and he would think it was reasonable to dress himself up in that way for her, because weren’t you supposed to do all sorts of strange things for love? Weren’t you supposed to want to make the other person happy, even if it made you uncomfortable? And, after enough times of that, it just started to seem normal to him, as if this was just how relationships worked, as if there were all sorts of other couples out there that performed the same routine as they did. Seemingly out of nowhere, like a sudden idea, Brandy was compassionate for all of the effort that Brandon had to go through to look the right way, and made an offhand suggestion that he should consider doing hormone replacement therapy, just so that he wouldn’t have to spend time with makeup, so he wouldn’t have to feel ridiculous when he wore the fake breasts in his padded bras, but they laughed the suggestion off. Almost a month later, he had started taking testosterone blockers and estrogen. Brandon started to hate the changes that the medication was giving him, but Brandy was able to guilt him enough for him to try to repress any negative feelings he had towards the process, because those feelings only meant that he was questioning his love for her, even though there was never a thing he could do for Brandy to stop loving him, even though he knew that she would go through the same for her, so he was eventually able to lie to himself enough to believe that he was happy, that he wanted these changes. Anyways, it was just a couple changes that would help in the bedroom, like softer skin and breast growth, it wasn’t like he was going to have to go through anything serious, like correctional surgeries, it wasn’t anything that could be undone. Months later, Brandon was proud that this had been his longest relationship ever, which was getting very close to having lasted for a year, something that he had believed was impossible for somebody like him, and he believed that this was a sign of it being true love, of Brandy being his soul mate, being somebody that he was supposed to spend the rest of his life with, no matter what struggles they may have faced. So, when she started to point out the way his face was changing due to the hormones, he started to get a little excited, and not because he was starting to look like a woman (Brandy had told him that all he had to do was be confident in the fact that he was a strong, sexy man, and any physical changes he went through wouldn’t change that fact), but because it seemed to make her really happy, so it was kind of a blow to him when it started to seem like the changes to his face wouldn’t be good enough, and he considered it when she suggested that he get facial surgery done. And, when he thought about it, facial surgery really wasn’t that bad, because, like Brandy said, people got tattoos for their significant others all of the time, and their relationships were usually pretty shaky in the first place, so going through such a change was only different than a tattoo in the way that it proved that their relationship was top shelf, because if they weren’t soul mates, then why would he get the surgery done? And its not like he wasn’t still a man, even if his gender dysphoria (which, as Brandy said, was irrational, and never to be believed, since it stemmed not from the changes, but merely used the changes as an excuse for his actual anxiety that was related to his experiences in his previous relationships, which she helped him understand as terrible, one-sided, and borderline abusive) told him that he wasn’t, because it wasn’t like he was getting rid of his penis any time soon. Sure, it didn’t work as well as it used to, his sex drive had seemed to disappear, but it was still there, it was still an undeniable symbol of his manhood, but even if he knew that, he knew that (as Brandy had explained to him) it would be difficult for others to understand, since they had “toxic beliefs that genitals didn’t have any relation to ones gender identity”, even though “the only thing that makes you a man or a woman us your genitalia”, and he trusted her and didn’t bother to look any further into the subject on his own. So, he knew that it would be best for him to separate from his friends and family, because they would have some mistaken idea that he was transitioning into a woman, and that couldn’t be further from the truth, At least it was easy for him to separate from his old live, he would think, because he looked almost exactly like Brandy, and people would just assume that they were twins when they were out in public, especially since she had helped coach him (almost exactly like her mother coached her) into having the same physical mannerisms, the same way of talking, that she did, telling him that it was a way for them to bond, a way for them to take their connection past their common interests, and into something that was more real.

However, with all of this achieved, Brandy started to become puzzled about how she was supposed to convince him to get the sexual reassignment surgery, to get a vagina that would look exactly like hers, so that she could finally know what it was like to go down on herself. Starting to realize that she had made the mistake of putting way too much symbolic importance on his penis, she tried to focus on other things to by herself time, like convincing him that the most romantic thing he could possibly do would be to change his name to her name, claiming that it was no different than the way that people would take up last names after marriage, claiming that it was proof that he really loved her. Whenever he resisted, she just had to question if he really loved her, and if he was still on the fence after that, she could start breaking things, claiming that it was his fault, or could, in the most dire situations, threaten him with suicide, claiming that he was just pretending to love her, that she couldn’t go on living knowing that her absolute love and devotion for him was only baaed on a lie.

Brandy and Brandy were having lunch at one of their favorite restaurants, eating outside, as always, but Brandy was worried that he had done something wrong, because Brandy had seemed to pay very little attention to him, which was strange because there was nothing that Brandy loved more than staring at Brandy. Brandy was mainly distracted because she wasn’t sure if there was anything left for her partner, other than the inevitable sexual reassignment surgery, and it annoyed her that their relationship was so close to being perfect, except for that fucking lump. “Are you alright?” Asked Brandy, with concern.

“Yeah,” replied Brandy, picking at her salad with a fork, “I’m just… I don’t know, its not important.”

“Anything that you think is important to me. Or, are you worried that-”

Before Brandy could finish what he was saying, a man had asked if he could sit at the table, then sat himself before anybody could be reasonably expected to answer. This was a normal occurrence whenever they went out in public, because Brandy was beautiful enough to attract attention, whenever her mouth was shut, and they seemed more like twins than a couple. However, this time the handsome stranger had started to talk to the male Brandy, which had never happened before, and suddenly led to both of the Brandy’s becoming uncomfortable. Normally the female Brandy was the one who received most of the attention, and both were fine with it, because who wouldn’t be attracted to somebody as perfect as her, and it wasn’t like she would ever cheat on Brandy, who was her soul mate, the best case scenario, but this was all different. Brandy chatted with the stranger for a little bit, being polite, trying to explain to the guy that he wasn’t gay without trying to step on the guy’s feelings, especially since Brandy thought that it was brave for a gay man to be so bold. Yet, Brandy didn’t hear a word of their conversation, because whatever was being said wasn’t important. What was important was that the guy hadn’t singled her out, which meant that Brandy was at risk of being less perfect than Brandy, which was completely unacceptable. She wanted an equal, she wanted herself, not somebody who was better. It never crossed her mind that the guy hitting on her possibly better half could have been proof of equality, of them becoming the same exact person, because even if she believed she wanted them to be equal, this wasn’t the truth. Brandy only wanted Brandy for herself.

The remainder of the lunch went of without any other interruptions, but it was uncomfortably quiet afterwards. The waiter had left the check without a word, not wanting to pry into the family drama that may have been effecting the twins. Silence followed them on the way home, and Brandy believed that he really had done something wrong, and that Brandy would start to think that he didn’t love her, so he strained to think of something that could prove his love before they got back to the house, worrying that this time he could have pushed her into killing herself, something he wouldn’t be able to live with.

When they arrived inside, Brandy was having trouble hiding her inner despair, and was making Brandy very uncomfortable, very guilty. When she went into the kitchen an grabbed a knife, not even waiting to think about what she would have to do, already having done the thinking she needed, Brandy couldn’t take the pressure, didn’t want to live with himself without her, pleaded, “Don’t do anything rash. I know I fucked up, its my fault, and I know that I deserve whatever you may be thinking about, but, please, know that I still love you! There isn’t anything that could make me stop loving you! I’d to anything for you!” She cocked her head to the side. “I’ll.. I’ll get the surgery, I’ll get rid of my.. Please, don’t kill yourself!”

Brandy proceeded to laugh, but was tearing up at the same time, and tried to hide her face as the tears streamed down and fucked up her makeup. Brandy slowly moved towards her, trying to comfort her in some way, but Brandy knew what she had to do, there was no question in it, she had to kill herself, Brandy had become superior, she was no longer perfect. So, when her boyfriend came over to hold her, she stabbed him as many times as she could, eyes closed, right in the abdomen, until he dropped to the floor, never making a sound or movement in resistance. When it was over, she dropped the knife onto the wet floor, and breathed a sigh of relief, but after opening her eyes she saw herself on the ground, matted with blood and riddled with imperfections, and she couldn’t figure out if she was horrified or pleased with what she had done, but the image of her body started to burn itself into her mind, so when she tried to look away she still saw it, still had to face the horror of how awful she looked when she was dead, the hideousness that was waiting for her when her life would slip away from her, and she had to face the overbearing dread or her mortality. Her ideas of death were always related to imagined images of her lying peacefully and beautifully in a coffin, maybe surrounded by flowers, but now she had to deal with the knowledge that in death she could look so terribly, and she had to deal with the self hatred that came with knowing she would never have to actually face her hideous corpse if she didn’t just kill herself, because she would be dead and would be unable to know what she looked like, it would be everyone else’s problem. And now, she wondered, trying to keep her lunch down, brushing sweat from her forehead, out of her eyes, what was she supposed to do now, now that she knows that imperfection. Is she supposed to live with that knowledge, and spend the rest of her life trying not to think about it, trying to hold it down in the same pitifully unhappy way that her boyfriend dealt with their relationship, or was she supposed to accept it, and embrace it, by ending her own life, to minimize her suffering.

Eventually, she started to remember that the girl that she killed wasn’t herself, that even though there was a chance of her looking that ghoulish, it was only a chance. And, hell, she used to think that the chances of being able to be with herself were too slim, but she was able to change that. So, she realized that she would have to, once again, take fate into her own hands, so that she could be as perfect in death as she was in life. She would have to make sure that she would die in a way that would leave the rest of her body in tact, would cause it to remain perfect, but before she did that she would have to make sure to break her dead boyfriends face in, just to avoid the competition in case she fucked up.

[viralhottopics]

I Work At A Spa Where You Can Take Drugs, Trip Balls And Pee

It seems like sensory deprivation tanks are everywhere these days. From Stranger Things to Stephen Curry, depriving yourself of multiple senses is so hot right now. If Helen Keller were alive, she’d say … well, nothing. That was her whole deal. But she might be a bit confused by the phenomenon. So we spoke to the folks who operate those sensory deprivation tanks, plus a few users, to find out why people pay good money just to get trapped.

6

Sometimes The Customers Really Don’t Want To Get In

There are a lot of risk-takers out there, but not everybody gets high on life. Some folks are dragged to the tanks mentally kicking and psychically screaming. According to Cameron, who worked in a sensory deprivation spa, his job mainly consisted of comforting those folks.

“Everyone is worried about different things” he told us. “I’ve heard, ‘Will I go crazy in there?,’ ‘What if I come out a different person?,’ ‘How can I call for help?,’ and ‘Do I have to be naked? I’m not going in there naked.’ And, if they’ve seen Fringe, ‘Will it fuck me up that badly?'”

Worse, the guy who dragged his buddy to the sensory deprivation tank in the first place usually isn’t all that helpful.

“I had a claustrophobic guy come in with a friend, and he took one look at the pod and said no way,” Cameron remembered. “I told him that inside, as soon as the door was shut, he’d feel like he was inside a vast area. His friend said the exact wrong thing to say — ‘Hey, maybe this will cure your claustrophobia!’ He finally agreed to try it, but I felt compelled to tell him that it may help him, but it’s not a cure, but he said ‘I know.'”

“We put him in there, and less than two minutes later came the screaming. He did what you’re not supposed to do, touch the sides of the pod for very long. He kept feeling around, and suddenly he wasn’t in a void as promised, but in the dark in a closed pod. It’s hard to get sound to come out, but when he couldn’t find the handle to open the pod, he screamed. When we opened it, he got out as fast as he could, grabbed a robe, and pretty much ran outside. We refunded his money, of course. We should not have been so insistent. We have potential floaters drop out because they’re afraid, but now we make sure it isn’t a real phobia. We don’t want another screaming pod. It was terrifying for everyone involved.”

5

You Might Pee Yourself, And You’ll Almost Definitely Hallucinate

Cameron was quick to point out that most people seem to genuinely enjoy it. They find it relaxing. Perhaps a little … too relaxing.

“Of course no one is going to admit to peeing,” he said. “But it happens.”

Cameron took the time to assure us that these pods are super sterile, and they’re cleaned after each and every use regardless of urine content. We’re trying to find that comforting. Even stranger: Sometimes people won’t even know if they’ve peed.

“Some floaters enter this state inside the pod where they’re on the line of being asleep and awake,” Cameron explained. “They honestly couldn’t tell [if they’d peed]. If a float pod worker tells you no one has peed in these, they’re lying. In warm water after having lunch, you have to assume they do. We had someone sign off on six hours straight (please don’t, by the by, you might get hypothermia and die), and with a session that long you have to assume they’re gonna pee.”

We’d have to assume it’s mostly pee by then, actually.

Plus the hallucinations don’t help. With the peeing. One Cambridge study found that even people who wouldn’t normally hallucinate were prone to having visions in the pod. These can range from simple shapes and dots of light, to full-on out-of-body experiences.

One pod-racer we talked to, Saundra, told us that it could be calming for her. “If I saw anything, it was the same brand of goofy surreal images I generally see as I’m drifting off to sleep; I tend to lean into them, because I know that the sillier and more free-association the mind-cartoon, the closer I am to sleep. I might have slept a little in the pod, but I mostly remained in that warm purgatory between wakefulness and dreaming.”

“I’ve heard about spirals, rainbows, flying in space, becoming a lion for awhile, and climbing stairs with no end,” Cameron added. “Sometimes the floater can’t even explain what they saw. Everyone comes out feeling anew, but some also coming out swearing they just got high.”

4

A Lot of People Combine The Tanks With Drugs

Sensory Deprivation is often compared to LSD trips, minus the LSD. But what if it was plus the LSD?

“We had someone who took either LSD or mushrooms before going in,” Cameron remembered. “Before going in he was staring straight ahead, like he was acting like everything was normal, but I don’t think it all was. Anyway, when I led him to the pod he walked like he was balancing to stay up and was taking deep breaths. He got in, and two hours later I let him out. He told me, in a really calm tone, ‘You only put me in there ten minutes ago. I was sailing on the triangles in there.’ That sounded fucking crazy to me, but then he said, ‘All of my problems were gone. I was me for once. I was with the triangles.’ And that sounded more like other floaters who become more self-aware and more calm, minus the triangles. Then he said, ‘I took something to enhance this and it worked. This was great.’ I was like yeah, that explains the triangles.”

“We have someone who blazes up before coming in every other week,” he went on. “I don’t see him do it, but I can smell it on him, and his eyes give it away too. He goes in calm and comes out even calmer. It’s hard to explain. He was already chill before going in, and when he’s going out with all his clothes back on it looks like he knows how to solve all the world’s problems. He’s said that it makes it more relaxing and comfortable (since both floating and marijuana help out anxiety, combining the two can make it even more effective in reducing stress), and I believe him. It’s a winning combination [laughs].”

3

There Are Some Risks

A lot of people have a pleasant experience, and emerge like wise butterflies from the cocoon of their own urine. Others emerge having faced the Demogorgon.

“I’ve had floaters who I took out who were surprised they were still alive,” said Cameron. “Because you can’t tell if you’re conscious sometimes, some half-believe they died. It’s only you and your thoughts, and they go to strange places in there, death included. When you get out of a pod, everything looks amazing. For me, colors seem brighter and more vibrant. When floaters who have gone through death come out they’ll sit down for several minutes and reflect. They know their mortality more. We had a first-time floater leave his car in the lot here overnight because he didn’t want to risk driving, because he was so shaken up.”

Cameron said that, in addition to depriving someone of touch, sight, and sound, the pods also have a way of depriving folks of their sense of time, and that’s the one that really scares folks.

“It can shock people,” he said. “I’ve heard from some floaters that it threw off their sleeping schedule for days. If you undershoot by three hours, that’s almost like jet lag. If you sleep in the pod, or think you sleep, then it may not be as bad, but it still messes you up. I’ve had floaters go from that coming-out calmness straight into panic because their sense of time was off so much. Like they come in with the sun up, and they think it’s been 15 minutes, but come out and it’s night.”

There are other risks, too:

“We warn people not to go in if they have just shaved or have a healing wound,” Cameron went on. “This water is 25 percent salt, and if any gets past the skin, it will hurt like hell. This ruins the experience for some because it means they’re stuck in a pod for two hours and all they can feel is pain. One floater came in who was a swimmer who had shaved, as he put it, everything. We warned him about the salt, but he said he could handle it. Two hours later, he comes out and the first thing he says is, ‘My balls are on fire.'”

2

It Can Actually Be Therapeutic

Lennon apparently used a sensory deprivation tank to get off of heroin, with reasonable success. Tom Brady uses one to keep his mind Super Bowl-caliber focused, though it appears it cannot cure him of his inherent Tom Brady-ness.

Andrew Campbell/flickr Maybe spend a little more time in the tank, Tom. Ideally, September through February.

“I can’t say it’s a miracle cure like some websites say it is, but some people take it as a treatment,” said Cameron. “We had a floater who came in three times a week to help with his depression. He said it helped because it was only him and his mind in there with nothing else to influence it, and it worked in blocking everything out. I had to help a paraplegic get into a pod. He had his spine messed up in an accident, and he was really self-conscious about using a wheelchair. In there, he said, he didn’t even feel his body anymore, and that it was one of the few places where he could relax, and the only place he could feel like he was before the accident. A lot of that was in his mind, but our pods helped him get there.”

One of our sources, Chelsea, definitely agrees:

“I’ve had stress problems for years. My doctor has never recommended it, but it was better than yoga.”

Another, Kyle, thinks it helps as well. He took a salty plunge after a one-two combo of tragedy: losing a good friend, and then dealing with a partner’s serious illness. He claims his time in the pods helped to “prepare me in some way by [letting me learn] how to let go and how to relax … It was very difficult to relax when we were dealing with [my partner]’s prognosis before her surgery, and particularly after [my friend]’s death, but I’ve attempted to reframe it and gain strength from the float time rather than fear the silence and separation.”

All that being said, however …

“Paraplegics don’t think this is Lourdes where they’ll be healed. It really just helps them mentally from what I’ve seen,” Cameron cautioned. “I’m a proponent of the pods and having others experience it, but you cannot say it’s going to heal you or cure you … We’re told upon hiring to never say it’s a cure or even hint that it is. There’s lots of good in sensory deprivation, but you need to watch out for claims that are false.”

IvanMikhaylov/iStock Any place that promises 30 percent more mystic healing than their competitors should probably be avoided.

1

Leaving Is Like Being Reborn: Being Reborn Isn’t Necessarily Fun

If it sounds like a religious experience, it may not be far off for some:

“Most will get a feeling like they’re reborn,” Cameron said. “I’ve done it before, and it’s pretty accurate.”

“The attendants always call it being born again, and I can see where they come from,” added Chelsea. “You’re cold, wet, and have felt like you’ve been in the womb. Every time I go in I tell myself that I won’t be amazed with everything coming out, but every time I am. The floor there has this colorful pattern of twisting leaves, and every time I come out I’m mesmerized by it. It looks so alive — despite being tacky-looking leaves. They always say, ‘You’re looking at them again’ when they catch me doing it.”

Studies on sensory deprivation tanks have shown that 90 percent of floaters felt more relaxed after a session. But sometimes, if they go through some bad hallucinations, or get salt in their wounds, or think they died, or stay in for too long and develop depression from extended isolation, or maybe just get a little liquid in their mouth and taste pee, it can be a challenge figuring out how to cope afterward.

“Sometimes floaters aren’t prepared for the experience or didn’t know what to expect,” Cameron admitted. “I’ll see at least one a day. They don’t calmly climb out. They see the light and get out as fast as they can.”

Floatguru/Wikimedia Commons And not exclusively because their pod started smelling like a truck stop men’s room halfway through.

You don’t need any kind of degree to dunk a dude in a tank, and there’s not exactly a standard training course for dealing with hallucinating naked people.

“They don’t train you on freak-outs,” Cameron said. “There was a floater, like a 20s-ish girl, who was bragging about how she could take this on, but after coming out she said she thought she was dead. She thought she had been forgotten and her air ran out.”

That’s why, Cameron assured us, all pods either have a panic button, or can at least be opened from the inside. Which is comforting. Unless you dance with the triangles too long, and forget you have hands.

Evan V. Symon is an interviewer, journalist and interview finder for the personal experience team at Cracked. Have an awesome job/experience you’d like to share? Hit us up at tips@cracked.com today!

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