#they have gone so far from that kind of religion and attitude

[vvatchword]

just shoot me a message if u need help w lakota research 🤙🏼 thanks

Yee. The block be gone. The curse is lifted.

Do excuse me for replying here, but it went overlong. Reply on your own account by all means. (Edit: I just realized I should ask you to @ me because I didn't save your username like a complete goober.) (Edit 2: I did not mean to imply you should answer all of this at once--rather, are there materials, like books, articles, magazines, blogs, YouTube channels, and so on that you particularly trust? I like to begin research early in subjects and just soak in the information like a hot tub. I also like amassing books early.)

My BSI work is so far in the future that asking for specifics will also be at that point, but I can assure you that I will need to know the following:

How the perspective of the Lakota people differs from the American/European White population/popular culture in the mid to late 1800s (ways that they conflict, complement, differ). Life before the arrival of Europeans is also important. Relationships and dynamics between the Lakota and surrounding tribes, before and during and after colonialism. The unique perspectives and philosophies of the Lakota, including a look at language and how it is constructed.

Relationships between different groups within the Lakota themselves. How many distinct groups within them? What kinds of disagreements and agreements are made? Are there gender divides? Treatment of children? Treatment of the aged? The sick, the disabled? Social expectations? Hierarchies?

What is the ideal life like? A typical day? A typical month? A typical year? What kinds of jobs are expected, and of whom? Tools? Domesticated animals and flora? Housing and construction and preferences in living spaces? Diets? Foods? Fashion? Folklore? Medical care? Celebrations? How are social affairs conducted--funerals, births, birthdays, religious rites? How can they go wrong as well as right?

Relationships with surrounding tribes and different populations; relationships with nature, animals, the landscape; religion(s) and faith; the ideal ways those relationships hash out and ways they go wrong.

Personal accounts of Lakota interacting with each other with no white in sight is also greatly welcomed.

Now, most of these are historical for the most part, and might be better served by books. However, I'm sure you know of books that are truer to your experience than others, and while I know of a handful, they are from a wider indigenous perspective, and I want to be specific to those of the Lakota themselves.

What you will certainly be best at explaining is how modern fiction impacts you; what you think BSI could have done better; how modern media gets you wrong and what particularly pisses you off; modern legislation and social behaviors from America at large and how it evolved from older attitudes; and so on. I am absolutely interested in your feelings, good, bad, and ugly, and I don't mind or blame any bad blood towards us as whites--I'm sure you have a perspective I can't visualize until it is spelled out.

Thank you for your time!

[theminecraftbox]

thoughts on c!sam and religion im curious... also in regards to prisontrio all three are religious, to varying degrees and varying beliefs

/dsmp rp

okay so we joke that Sam is Catholic but, like, come ON. Sam has a LOT of behaviors that tend to ping me as religious/religious-coded. I don’t really think Sam definitely believes there’s a god… but there’s a very authoritative + spiritual cast to his attitude on life. God may not be real, but Good and Evil definitely are—everybody’s got a devil and an angel on their shoulder.

For one thing, there’s his attitude towards morality, which I’ve gone on and on and on about. How he makes arguments about virtue ethics based in authority, and based on the supposition that there is such a thing as Good and Evil, and more concretely and importantly, Good People and Evil People. Sam projects lots of this onto Dream. Dream becomes an object of his need for the moral world to be a simple one.

His personal relationship to guilt, suffering, and justice is an extremely particular brand of religious: he references purgatory in Daedalus, for god’s sake. There is an element of Sam that wants to see himself as martyred; there is a part of him that sees suffering as redemptive, just as that part of him sees suffering as something delivered only unto the unworthy. This is imo a huge part of his complex with Dream: Dream deserves to suffer, yet… doesn’t suffering elevate him, excuse him, somehow?

He’s got all these superstitious behaviors: think of how he acts post-egg, his relationship to the holy water. I think he prayed, down trapped in the obsidian, with his own flesh. He has all these behaviors that are nearly ritualized: the laws the waivers the protocols, forever and ever amen. Sam derives tangible comfort from following ordained rules. Violate the rules and just punishment follows, the arm of god will smite you. (Sam is happy to act in this capacity. Sam is afraid, on some level, to be on the receiving end.) Obey the rules and you will never be be wrong. I maintain that Sam was shaken far more by letting Quackity violate protocol than by letting him commit horrific violence.

As for Quackity… I don’t see Q as a true believer, founding of the prime church aside. But I think his quiet faith in power could be shaped that way: what are lessons if not commandments? What is a country if not a kingdom, what is a kingdom if not divine? If God is real, God owes him a motherfucking crown.

Quackity is a believer in shattering idols. Heaven is a place on earth. So is hell. Quackity can build them both. Quackity does not think Dream is a god, but he ascribes Dream power when he tears him apart.

I think the most fascinating thing here is that peculiar form of iconoclasm in what he does to Dream, and in how he rips out Schlatt’s heart, and even in some respects how he tries to tear down Wilbur. Quackity will take these false idols and smash them on the sand; he’ll eat what remains and absorb their power. That’s a ritual too.

Dream, I think, has the kind of faith you keep when you’ve met a god and he’s wearing your face. He has the kind of faith you keep in your heart when you wield the power of the gods, you carry it inside you, and you were torn apart for months for it. Everyone Dream ever reveals it to tries to pry it from him and they all fail. The plan Dream keeps is going to save the world and he’s the only one with the guts and the ability to do it.

Dream does not have a god complex, but he is a mortal man willing to tear apart the tools of Olympus. And he knows that’s exactly what he’s doing.

[wokestonecraft]

Once again seeing posts about radfems only criticize hijabs and not any other religions’ forced modesty like okay lol, this is my time to shine, I have such a bone to pick with Christianity. I had to veil in a Catholic Church to attend my aunt’s wedding. There was a little pamphlet explaining that veiling was a mark of respect towards women, since they were the vessels of life, and compared it to the veiling of the chalice used for the eucharist. My aunt was told by the priest that she better hurry up and start having kids before her womb shriveled up, haha. (She was in her late thirties and desperately wanted kids). I tore off my veil as soon as I got outside and refused to put it back on until my mom made go back inside for the pictures. I was an angry teen girl, and I was made angrier that I would go home in a few days, and have to face more modesty restrictions at my school and in my town. Now, we didn’t have to cover our heads, but shoulders and knees were verboten, and we would make fun of another school where girls had to wear ankle length skirts, because that school was “too strict”. We at least got to wear pants. I remember when my best friend, who had gone through puberty a little bit earlier than rest of us, was pulled aside by a teacher and told in no uncertain terms that she was showing too much cleavage and that she had to go and change. We were in middle school, and she was wearing the same simple crew neck shirts as the rest of us. She cried in the bathroom, and for years afterwards, she would always wear a camisole underneath all her shirts. I just gave up and wore nothing but long pants and skirts so I don’t have to endure the humiliation of having my shorts or skirts measured. I wore jackets all the time, so I wouldn’t have my shirts’ necklines scrutinized. We had similar rules in regards to our sportswear, certain length skirts and shorts, no bellies showing, and no wearing just a sports bra ever. This was particular issues with the girls tennis team, as we started training in late august in the American south, and would get so hot we wanted to strip off our shirts and pour cold water over ourselves. One girl did this, and brought out the school’s principle to yell at us about disrespecting the game, ourselves, and the school. Her shirt went back on. This was really irritating as the boys track team trained at the same time, and not only did the boys run shirtless, they wore the tiniest shorts that left nothing to the imagination. And they were never told off for being immodest. One year, the girls swim team had to take their yearbook photo in their school uniforms instead of their racing one pieces because it was too immodest. The boys team was photographed in their speedos and swim caps.

Maybe it’s because I grew up in the Bible Belt, but I am always hundred percent ready to levy any criticisms at Christianity’s modesty standard. We just didn’t cover our hair, but that doesn’t mean we weren’t still policed with same accusations of “slut” and “whore” when we stepped out of line. I was lucky, in that my parents didn’t particularly care what I wore as long I was neat and clean, but I knew girls whose parents would check over their clothes to make sure that they were modest enough before they went out the door.

I still struggle with wearing certain kinds of clothes. It’s summer right now and I’m wearing jeans, as I never show my legs unless I can help it, lol. The amount of times I skipped out of swimming bc I didn’t want to wear a bathing suite in front of people fills me with regret. My sister struggles from the same issues, and we didn’t even come from a religious family, this is just the attitude our town and region had towards women and girls’ bodies. I think head coverings and face veils are easy to point out, as the face and head are such important parts of human interaction, but modesty standards on general are terrible and should be critised regardless of religion, and I don’t think radfems pull any punches when it comes to Christianity lol.

There are some good books about American Christian modesty and purity culture that helped me to move forward, and well as making me extremely grateful to my relaxed and loving parents, especially my strong and independent mother who did her best to combat what the rest of the world was teaching us. “Pure: Inside the Evangelical Movement that Shamed a Generation of Young Women and How I Broke Free” by Linda Kay Klein is heartbreaking personal account of the American evangical purity movement, and I really recommend it to anyone who has been or is going through something similar. “The Purity Myth” by Jessica Valenti discusses how American culture deals with the concept of female virginity, and it’s consequences, and highlights a lot of the religious aspects involved therein. “I Fired God” by is Jocelyn Zichterman is the author’s personal memoirs of her life in and escape from a fundamentalist Baptist cult and it does touch on modesty standards and the consequences. And finally, there’s a book that I think every American radfem should read, which is “Quiverfull: Inside the Christian Patriarchy Movement” by Kathryn Joyce, which is a harrowing documentation of far right Christianity in the US and the wider world. It’s a tad bit outdated, as some of the major figures discussed, like Doug Phillips of Vision Forum, have fallen in scandal and disgrace, but it’s really important to read, especially in light of how politics in the US are moving against women right now.

[thaisibir]

Aoi, the Wrathful Route, and Buddhism

Anyone want to read an analysis on my favorite character in Digimon Survive? What does Buddhism have to do with a Digimon game? Grab a seat and let’s dive into it. (Major spoilers ahead!)

I like to think that Buddhist beliefs and philosophy really comes into play in the Wrathful route. How so? Well:

-Reincarnation into Plutomon

Aoi "dying" to come back as Plutomon, another form, is as if she underwent reincarnation.  As I’m sure most people know, belief in reincarnation is central to Buddhism. Aoi “arriving to the right answer” upon merging with Labramon is a twisted form of achieving enlightenment. She was driven mad and beyond reason by this insight she gained, and even though she lived on in that new monstrous form, the Aoi that her friends knew and loved was gone.

-More on Aoi’s “enlightenment”

In Buddhism, Nirvana is the highest and ultimate achievement. One undergoes the cycle of death and rebirth until one has the merit and fortitude to achieve Nirvana and break free of that cycle. A common image used to describe Nirvana is the extinguishing of a fire, specifically three fires, or poisons: greed (raga), aversion/hate (dvesha), and ignorance (moha). Clearly Aoi is a selfless and kind person; out of everyone in the group she’s arguably the farthest from greedy and hateful. Ignorance, however, is what tormented Aoi in the Wrathful route, as Saki’s death has her constantly questioning what is the right thing to believe and do. Within the connotations of Buddhism, ignorance also describes worldly attachment. Aoi was unable to move on from Saki’s death, and her wellbeing spiraled down the drain as she fixated on survivor’s guilt. When she came to an epiphany about harmony, she was “freed” from the ignorance and the confines of her dying human body to become Plutomon. Buddhist belief of the afterlife could have influenced Aoi's own belief in the Wrathful route, that peace can be achieved if everyone agrees with and joins her state of enlightenment, or her own warped idea of Nirvana. Unlike some faiths such as Christianity, where people maintain distinct bodies in a judgment-based afterlife, Buddhism envisions the perfect state of being after death more like a drop of water entering a collective sea beyond existence.

-Aoi’s first and second deaths

The Buddhist approach to the dying process puts an emphasis on attaining a clear consciousness before death. Mortally wounded by Piedmon and realizing her “epiphany,” Aoi was clearly in no state to peacefully pass on. Her last words before becoming Plutomon was “Idon’twanttodieIdon’twanttodie!!” The poor girl was deluded by agony, both physical and mental, as well as by her misguided beliefs. Aoi’s first death and dark evolution with Labramon, which led to more suffering upon herself and her friends, resembles samsara at work. In Buddhism, samsara is considered to be unsatisfactory and painful, perpetuated by desire and ignorance. Aoi became so driven by the need to act on her misguided beliefs that she sort of transcended death, transforming from a human to a monster. Fortunately in the end Aoi reverted to her true self, expressing her regret and contrition over her error in judgment before truly passing on. She died again, free of attachments that kept her human and monstrous bodies tied to the world.

I do have a headcanon that Aoi comes from a family of devout Buddhists, and that the Buddhist faith had a big influence on her attitude, mindset, and outlook on life. (Not too far-fetched, in my opinion, since Buddhism is one of the predominant religions in Japan.) This, plus the parallels to Buddhist ideas in the various events of the Wrathful route, made playing the game all the more significant and poignant to me. Watching the most kind, loving, and stable character in the cast break down and become so twisted was brilliant and terrible and heart-wrenching.

[profanetools]

been thinking about embittered and toxic mother-daughter relationships recently (often a theme with my female OCs tbh) but specifically have been developing Kagrenac's mother as a character

& I kind of wanted to present the eerie familiarity and sense of 'echoes' you get with biofam you have complex relationships with, the sense that even with distance and separation there's part of you that mirrors them, you take form them, and that's something you have to live with and even make peace with, even as the assertion by society that you are nothing *but* them is something you have to push against

and in the case of Kagrenac's mother I've decided she was a fairly charismatic priestess and practioner of a mystic interpretation of dwemer religion within her clan, and despite her youth had gained a remarkable amount of clout and attained a 'chief' title within her clan while Kagrenac was still a child

so the echo there is clear - although Kagrenac tried to mask the mysticist tendencies of her birth clan's interpretations of doctrine and practice, especially when she adopted a new clan after the war started.

the divergence comes after the clan was attacked by nordic invaders and their stronghold was destroyed (the whole clan fled and dispersed, it was very chaotic). Kagrenac & her family were separated in this battle for *years*. I think Kagrenac responded to this by taking her faith far more seriously & committing to a path that was previously a mixture of talent, hobby, & childhood habit - and I think she held onto an image of her mother, as argumentative as the relationship had been, keeping that faith, as an anchor. Meanwhile, Kagrenac's mother had her faith shaken entirely and began to question the point of adhering to the practices and principles she always had done, seeing them as endless toil for very little - really failing to believe in any kind of future for the people she'd been brought up with (and showing, fundamentally, a real disdain & lack of belief in the people around her). Her relationship with her partner fell apart after her daughter had gone missing, thought dead, and she spent years travelling alone around Tamriel - and eventually decided never to return, cutting herself from dwemer society and converting to the eight eventually.

As a result, we have two paths - one trying to appease a majority and living by their standards. As a gay woman, Kagrenac's mother ended up becoming a largely closeted assimilationist even amongst various liberal-minded academic altmeri friends (and sometimes "friends") who'd left the Summerset Isles. Whereas Kagrenac very much sees groups outside of the dwemer as threats, and appeasement is the bare minimum for diplomacy's sake, with her largely refusing to compromise her identity that she has fought to retain (& her attitude to gender and sexuality is key to that as well - she refuses to see it as taboo or even *remarkable* that she dates women, and refuses to be more or less overt about her partner and her relationship than she usually would be).

Interestingly, I think Kagrenac still displays her mother's lack of faith in others despite professing otherwise, despite professing a belief in communal living - I think that displays itself most fatally with the call + the use of the tools at Red Mountain.

[anakinisvaderisanakin]

Anakin is to blame for his fall.

Anakin bears final blame for his state of being.

It is true that he was raised fatherless as a slave, taken away from his mother and only security while only nine years old to be raised by a religious group he knew nothing of prior to meeting one of its practitioners.

It is true that he was met with skepticism and suspicion upon arriving, being deemed too old to train and thus picked on my his peers.

It is true that his relationship with his master was rocky, and that Obi-Wan could not be outspoken and honest about his love for his apprentice.

It is true that his fears were realized when his nightmares about his mother’s death became reality, and that he was overtly prevented from coming to her aid.

It is true that he was was required to bury his volatile emotions underneath the surface, to shut up and never bring them up and let them go.

It is true that despite being married to a loving wife, he had to hide the marriage from the public and live with a secret he knew may ruin his reputation and sever his connection to the order.

It is true that he did stand up for Ahsoka, that he did want the best for his own apprentice while she was being falsely accused of murder.

It is true that Anakin was barely even an adult when he fell to the Dark Side, terrified of losing Padmé, of losing their children of knowing that the nightmares may once again come true unless he acted to prevent it.

It is true that Palpatine manipulated and groomed Anakin all the while, sensing both his power and his vulnerability and feeding off of his weaknesses.

It is true that the Jedi did not have the tools to aid Anakin, or to give him the psychiatric help he would have needed in order to function within society given his traumatic childhood and difficult upbringing.

But it was Anakin who would not trust his loved ones, who would not believe they had the best intentions. It was Anakin who adhered to Palpatine’s constant reassurance of his greatness, his value, his power.

Ahsoka explained why she left, that she couldn’t trust the order that had not stood up for her - but Anakin still took it personally, as if she was abandoning him and without taking her feelings into the equation.

The Jedi order were clear with their rules, they put up guidelines and restrictions to follow, and Anakin still broke them.

Obi-Wan may not have been able to profess his love for Anakin out loud, but if Anakin had taken the time, he would have noticed and realized that Obi-Wan did love him - and that in spite of the fact that Obi-Wan knew he was not supposed to develop emotional attachments.

Padmé may have been selfish and codependent on Anakin and much as he was on her, and she did condone and forgive his murdering an entire village - but she did put her foot down when it went too far, and she did tell Anakin that she loved him and would have forgiven him once more despite knowing he had murdered children if he had only listened to her.

But Anakin didn’t listen. Anakin never listened. Anakin is a loving and emotional man, yes, but he is also hopelessly inept when it comes to taking the people he loves’ feelings into account. 

Anakin loves Ahsoka, therefore she should stay with the order even if it’s not fair to her. Anakin loves Obi-Wan, therefore Obi-Wan should always praise him and be openly proud and verbally supportive of him. Anakin loves Padmé, therefore she should always forgive and support him whatever he does, even if that includes killing innocent people. Anakin loves his mother, therefore killing an entire village in cold blood as revenge is a fair retribution.

Anakin loves Ahsoka, but her state of mind is worth less than Anakin’s. Anakin loves Obi-Wan, but his dedication to the order and to himself is worth less than Anakin’s need for validation. Anakin loves Padmé, but her unrelenting love and forgiveness doesn’t matter if she won’t follow him to the end of the line.

Anakin promises to save his mother, and he does come for her but it’s too late. Anakin promises to clear Ahsoka’s name, and he does but she rejects the order either way. Anakin is bashful upon learning that Obi-Wan is proud of him, but he still second guesses and doubts the sincerity behind it. Anakin promises Padmé he will save her, although she doesn’t care if she dies as long as her child(ren) lives and Anakin can’t accept that.

Anakin doesn’t care if Ahsoka, Obi-Wan or Padmé are happy or satisfied with any outcome. What Anakin cares about is his world, his feelings, his own satisfaction.

Anakin isn’t an inherently selfish man, and he doesn’t pressure people and demand their all because he’s callous. Anakin simply never learnt how to deal with healthy relationships, he only had his mother and during his formative years, he was Obi-Wan’s padawan - and Obi-Wan was distant, despite his attempts at breaking the ice.

Now, Obi-Wan being distant does not put the blame on him. Ahsoka leaving the order does not put the blame on her. Padmé enabling Anakin’s violent tendencies does not put the blame on her. The Jedi order following their religion and imposing it upon Anakin who did wish to become a Jedi does not put the blame on them.

Could Obi-Wan have been more nurturing? Yes, but Anakin still demanded more than he could give. 

Could Ahsoka have stayed in contact with Anakin after leaving the order? Yes, but her wanting to put some distance between herself and the Jedi is understandable and valid. 

Could Padmé have protested and given Anakin ultimatums when he committed atrocities? Yes, but her seeing the best in Anakin at all times came from a place of love, not a wish to condone murder or violence. 

Could the order have given Anakin some leniency and offered him therapy instead of asking him to hide his emotions? Yes, but they simply followed their teachings and expected Anakin to be able to do the same.

Anakin had no easy life, no simple choices - but he did have the choice when it came to Palpatine. Still, if anybody outside of Anakin influenced, coursed and shares the blame, it’s Palpatine. Palpatine is what Anakin is inherently not - he is a cruel, ambitious, evil man.

Anakin is selfish, Anakin wants love, Anakin wants to save the people he loves. Sure, it’s for his own gain, but he still wants to be good. He has good intentions as much as they are driven by personal investment. Palpatine cares for no one but himself. Any kindness Palpatine showed Anakin is a lie and a hoax and a bluff. Palpatine preyed upon Anakin’s insecurities. Palpatine manipulated a lost young boy desperate for approval and a father figure. 

But at the end of the day, Anakin had a choice. Do I understand why he chose Palpatine and the Dark Side? Yes. Do I understand how his fear drove him to desperate measures? Yes. Do I understand how the high of his new powers snared him? Yes. Do I understand why he believed in Palpatine above the Jedi order? Yes.

But Anakin’s self serving attitude is revealed when instead of saving Padmé, instead of running away with her so she can be safe - what he was initially fighting for - he chokes her, harms her, contributes to her demise. Anakin’s selfishness is his downfall, and that’s where the blame lies with him.

As soon as he dons the cape and mask, he accepts this new living hell he’s trapped within - because deep down, he knows he deserves no less. He ruined his own life, he destroyed the Jedi order, he drove away Obi-Wan (and Ahsoka), and he killed Padmé. Vader isn’t a different person. Vader is Anakin, and Anakin knows what he deserves is suffering, and pain, and torment.

Anakin deserves being but a husk of the man he once was. What else does he have left, but to serve the man who aided him in his downfall? What else does he have left, but to bring harm and hurt to others so that they may taste a sliver of his internal agony? What else does he have left but the monster he turned himself into? Anakin knows it’s his fault, he knows there is no Vader, he knows he did it all by himself.

Anakin knows he became his own nightmare, and he continues to exist because he knows it’s what he deserves. Anakin does not abandon his old self because he’s no longer Anakin, but because the man he once was is warped and he does not believe he deserves to associate himself with his past. The name ‘Anakin’ stands for life when it was good, and hopeful, and worth living. Anakin can no longer relate to any of those sentiments, and thus ‘Anakin’ is simply not a name he feels worthy of.

Anakin never forgot who he was, he simply accepted that he had gone too far to turn back. He understood that he did not deserve forgiveness, or redemption, and he did not seek it out. Anakin knew Obi-Wan and Padmé and Ahsoka would all have forgiven him, but he could not let them overlook the horrible things he had done.

The irony in his refusing to accept forgiveness and turn around, is that that is perhaps the most selfless decision he could have made. Because when Obi-Wan, Ahsoka and Padmé had tried their hardest, he still would not budge. And that would, in some aspect, at least let them know they did their best and it was not enough. They tried, and failed. Anakin made sure they failed because he did not wish to be saved.

Ahsoka got her chance to stay with him, and make her perceived betrayal right. Padmé never lost her faith in him, even while she lay dying. Obi-Wan let himself be cut down and killed, both to free himself as a Force ghost, but also to let Anakin enact his revenge. They got even, in the end.

Vader is no disease, no second persona, no separate entity. Blaming Anakin’s deeds on Vader as somebody else absolves Anakin and removes the guilt from him. It discredits Anakin, and it cheapens his character. Anakin is not a good man, he is only human. But in the end, despite a life time of poor choices, he makes the right decision. And it’s just as much Anakin saving Luke, as it was Anakin cutting off his hand. It’s just as much Anakin choking Padmé, as it was Anakin marrying her. Anakin did it all.

Anakin alone is to blame for his suffering, and he knows this because there is no Vader. There is only Anakin.

[southslates]

we fell in stages / ao3 / 1474 words / one-shot / canon-compliant / kanej, one sided kaz/jesper, inej & jesper / rated T

Inej didn’t need to ask Jesper if he liked Kaz. It was obvious. He knew he was obvious. He couldn’t see the boy’s stupid face without having a heart attack, and that fact pained him.

Jesper knew Inej was good at uncovering secrets, so perhaps his ill-wanted crush wasn’t as clear as he thought it was, still. He hoped it wasn’t. He didn’t know how he would face the belief that Kaz knew how he felt about him and didn’t care—or used him for it.

All the Saints.

He loved Inej, but he hated it was Inej. He loved her and all that she was but he resented her for having Kaz. Because she had him—neither of them knew it, but Jesper knew both of them well enough. It was always Inej at Kaz’s windows, in his rooms, walking through the streets with him at night. It was always Inej who Kaz’s eyes traced over the rooftops, it was always her who he chose to be alone with.

Kaz Brekker was a terrible guy. Jesper knew it, and that had drawn him in towards him in the first place, had him say yes to the deal Kaz had attempted to strike with him. But he was attractive and his ruthlessness had its own kind of charm. But then Jesper grew to learn that confidence was not callousness. For a long time he’d had his doubts that Kaz was even human.

But of course he was—of course—Inej—

And Inej was perfect for Kaz. That pained even more. Inej and Kaz fit together in ways nobody else in the Dregs did—they could speak with their eyes and just their lips. They could speak facing away from each other. Wherever Kaz went, Inej followed—and though the bastard of the Barrel would be loath to admit it, the opposite was true too.

“Why?” Inej asked Jesper, leaning on his bunk. She was fluid as water, and they were talking about the raid they’d led the previous night on a house in the Geldin District. Kaz had wanted documents from a mercher’s house, some kind of correspondence, and he and Inej had gone to find them while Jesper stayed outside as backup, twirling his guns in the nightlight. The roles made sense—he would have been terrible at committing the crime—but seeing them both disappear up a window together made his heart pound.

He'd comforted himself with the fact that Kaz was a monster and that Kaz could feel nothing. He needed to stop pining for someone who wasn’t capable of returning his feelings. It had been fine. He had been coping.

And then on the way back they’d been quietly bantering, the three of them, in a way they were almost prone to do. Kaz had said something about Ghezen and kruge—his true loves—and Inej had shook her head at him, said something disparaging about religion, and fell while she was staring at him.

Kaz didn’t move to pick her up. Kaz Brekker wouldn’t do that. But his eyes tracked all her limbs as she lifted herself off the ground, as though checking if she was safe, and then flew to her face when she laughed the blunder off. Inej turned away after that, but Jesper saw the look in Kaz’s eyes as he followed the light sound of her voice.

They almost softened. He hadn’t seemed like a monster in that moment. He seemed like a teenager, as though he could follow that sound for the rest of his days.

Jesper had felt a bullet in his chest, because Kaz was his best friend, but he had never looked at Jesper that way. Kaz hadn’t seemed to notice—or care—about his attitude for the rest of the night, but Inej noted his sullen behavior. And now she was here.   

“What?” he reclined on his bed and twirled his pistol around once. Inej sat in the corner, legs crossed, facing the door. She was always ready for someone to come for her—that was the life she had with Kaz. He thought about the coil of her hair and the fondness he felt for her, as a sister. He thought about everything but what she meant.

“What happened last night, Jesper?”

“Nothing.”

“I’m aware Kaz is severely lacking when it comes to emotional intelligence—”

“And you’re that for him.”

Inej’s dark brow twisted. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing—I just—nothing happened, alright. Do you want to go—”

She took out a knife and tapped it against the ground. It wasn’t a threat, just a quirk—like him pulling out his revolvers—but it made Jesper take in a deep breath. “Jesper.”

“Yes?”

“Speak to me.”

“I am.”

She seemed disappointed. “You were angry at Kaz last night.”

“Aren’t you? Aren’t we all? Perpetually?” he tried.

She stepped forward and onto the bed with him, pressing a calming, warm hand to his thigh. She reminded him of his mother, in a way. Their presences felt familiar. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He gave up. “You know, already,” he groaned. “Do I have to say it?”

Inej loved words, far more than Kaz did. She never showed him anything—she said what she felt out loud. She was nothing like Kaz in that regard, and Jesper knew she could do so, so much better than a scheming, dark, monstrous man with dirty hands. He wanted to tell her that, but he couldn’t. Not when he wanted the same.

“No,” Inej said. “You don’t have to say it.” She reached out for his hand and held it, and Jesper wanted to cry. It did look like his mother’s, against his skin. It felt like peace. And for a moment Jesper took in the gravity of his ridiculous, stupid life. He liked the worst criminal in the Barrel. His best friend was a spy. He was a murderer.

He used his other hand to twist his guns. He’d left his father behind and now he just wanted to feel wanted. He didn’t know why he felt this way for someone who—even if he returned Jesper’s feelings—would be terrible at doing so. Kaz and Inej fit together. He knew it. He’d find someone to fit him, eventually. “I don’t get why it has to be him,” he said miserably. “There’s so many people in Ketterdam and I don’t know why I think about him.”

Inej fit her head against his shoulder. The way she pressed her body calmly to the side of his pistol, trusting him, felt odd and made him want to act hysterical. “I don’t, either.”

“He loves you,” Jesper said. Inej scoffed, but he pressed further. “He doesn’t know it, but he does. He cares about you.”

“He doesn’t know how,” Inej said, but Jesper knew that he’d gotten in her head. He wondered if he could give her all that he felt.

“You deserve better. Than this life, than him, than me.”

“I don’t have him,” Inej told Jesper. “I doubt anyone ever will. He drives me mad,” she admitted. “I don’t know what we’re doing. Either of us. I feel like I’m reading him wrong. I hate it. I feel like he knows everything about me and I have to wring everything from him. I—I don’t have him,” she repeated. Then she bent against him. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Jesper said. “It happens.”

“The Suli like to say,” Inej turned her face to him, “that to love can—”

“I don’t love him,” Jesper said quickly, blushing, glad the blood going to his cheeks wasn’t quite visible. He didn’t love Kaz. He’d thought about it, but he didn’t.

“To feel, then,” Inej almost winced, “can sometimes be worse than the pain of a thousand bullets. It hurts in a different place than a wound. It cannot always be healed. But I know you will be, Jesper. You’re very strong.”

“You’re the best,” Jesper said. He meant it. They sat there for another few hours, and Jesper thought about Kaz’s terrible, beautiful face, the way he limped, how powerful he seemed—he was younger than Jesper—how he was always seeing the world in different dimensions, four steps ahead of everyone else, and yet didn’t understand people so well. “He needs to realize that.”

Inej got up to leave, but before she did she turned to him. “I hope he will. I know who I am.”

Her voice almost cracked and Jesper set his pistols down and laid down in his bed. Kaz and Inej hurt to think about, but he loved them enough to place his own feelings aside for a bit. Resentment had no place here. He could grow past this. He could trust them enough to figure each other out, too.

[stonecoldhedwig]

I’m still in a WhatsApp group with all the people I used to work with at my hot trash job. Today has truly been a day to be grateful.

I was a digital strategist in the third sector before I gave up my job to write full time. My Big Boomer boss hired someone to replace me who *can’t use Microsoft Word*.

It’s a rollout day for one of their new programmes. Big deal. Generally brings in a lot of money from important donors. I think I spent more time teaching my replacement how to do this than anything else because I had digital programme launches down to an art.

The Boomersaurus Rex hired to replace me has fucked up the delivery strategy so the programme launch has come from her personal account, is going to everyone’s junk inbox, and has thus far been sent out nine consecutive times. The WhatsApp group is a-flurry with messages about how everything has gone wrong.

I got a text this morning from the Boomersaurus that simply said “I cannot send?”. Send what.

This is obviously amusing for me, but it highlights something about the third sector that pisses me off. It never, ever uses the skills, knowledge and diverse experiences of younger people that could genuinely make a difference.

The international third sector is generally no longer about sending neatly-turned-out white kids “overseas” to find themselves and occasionally build schools. Thank God. Despite popular conceptions, it’s not full of altruistic angels looking to change the world, either; it’s instead full of people who—for the most part—do want to do good but are also flawed and desperately human.

There is, however, a major stumbling block to genuine progress all the same, and it’s exactly the people you’d expect it to be: white boomer men.

I’m the youngest year of the millennial generation. Most of my friends are involved in either public sector or third sector work. Most of us are paid like shit, and work for boomers who don’t know TikTok from Twitter. My best friend works for an organisation that defends journalistic freedom around the world, and her (male) boss is incredibly proud of being a second-wave feminist who once read Simone de Beauvoir, and likes to chime in with suitably outdated opinions on gender with typical White Man enthusiasm. Great. Only, it’s 2020 and we’re now on fourth-wave feminism. How can his organisation defend the journalistic freedom of trans, enby, gender fluid people when his mindset is firmly rooted in the 1970s?

My former boss used ethnic slurs about various peoples from the part of the Middle East we worked in. We provided healthcare. Imagine the impact it has on a population when the person who heads up your healthcare provider is a racist. (I obviously reported this to the chairman before I left, and it was the straw that broke the camel’s back for me in terms of having to resign. In good conscience, I couldn’t stay). That doesn’t even touch on his deep and rich misogyny.

These are obviously much more extreme examples than simply not knowing how to use Word. But the fucking up Word is important. It highlights the fact that the third sector is steeped in capitalism—the kind of capitalism that values longevity more than anything else. The boomer who was hired after me? She was hired because she’d been in the sector for a long time and my Big Boomer boss respected that. It’s capitalism in action: how much production can we squeeze out of you until you expire? It is quantity over quality every time because that’s what late stage capitalism does.

There’s a really simple remedy to this: bring in young people. More than that, bring in a diverse range of young people. Young people of colour, young people with a range of gender identities and sexualities, religions and heritages. Organisations don’t need these young people to have degrees in digital marketing or seven hundred years experience of sending Tweets. We’re the fucking internet generation. Choose the quality of a more meaningful, more nuanced CV than a boomer with 20 years in the same role who, sure, has lasted long, but doesn’t really have much to show for it.

When charities or third sector organisations contact you asking for support (and let’s face it, that’s predominantly financial), ask them the age breakdown of their staff. Ask them their hierarchical structure within their offices. Ask them the demographics of their staff, and ask them how they’re pursuing a more diverse and representative workforce.

Part of believing in radical economic restructuring for me is knowing that the need for charity constitutes a moral failing on our part, collectively. Our economic structures should (and can!!) be reformed so that charity is a thing of the past. Part of the work of moving to a regenerative economy that removes the need for charity is by using charities as a proving ground. What this means is holding “the best of us” to account. It means ensuring that the most vulnerable of society are served by people who look like them, and who are committed to a society that includes them. The best charities ultimately want to be redundant.

So, just as you do for politicians, hold the third sector to account. It’s uncomfortable. No one wants to be the dick that questions the lovely people at a charity. But no third sector organisation is immune to its context, and the damaging attitudes and prevailing cultural norms that we see in the rest of life exists there too. Radical economics demands this of us.

[magaprima]

I’ve talked in the past both about how CAOS is one of the few shows that doesn’t say ‘how you dress and how you behave is reflective of your sex life’ (e.g Zelda is very uptight about her religion, she dresses in what could be considered a prudish manner considering she covers herself up almost entirely, yet she is very sexually free and has a very active and kinky sex life. And when you consider Mary pre-trauma when she wore her own quirky style and went to films on her own and was very energetic and bright, it’s not the typical ‘virgin’ set-up they do in shows, especially for those over the age of 21. Similarly, Hilda’s virginity doesn’t dictate her personality or behaviour or style and nor does Sabrina’s) and I’ve talked about how Lilith dresses relatively provocatively, has an ancient reputation for being a seductress and yet has barely any sex at all and doesn’t seem to pursue it either. 

But I just want to go a bit more into the why. 

Our first sexual experiences have a hell of a lot of influence on how we view and deal and engage with sex in our later lives. Lilith’s first ever experience of sex and relationships was in the Garden with Adam. She was under the control of the False God in his little assigned area, and she was with a man that we have canonically confirmed was cruel to her, and who we know treated her as something less than himself and didn’t allow her to have any say in their sex life, not even to the point of where she fucking lay. 

That is an extremely negative first experience to have and would have had a major impact on Lilith and, no doubt, plays a primary role in her attitude towards men in general.

Then...she falls into the arms of Lucifer, where, we see in the flash backs, they do have a healthy sex life. She has an experience of sex where it’s equally enjoyable and equally desired, and we see that Lucifer does care for her and is gentle with her. Which could have helped her deal with her issues....if not for the fact Lucifer changed and became the monster thing of darkness, where he is cruel, abusive, belittling and basically creates a relationship even more toxic and negative than her one with Adam. 

Lilith has now had two sexual experiences; one where it was shit from the beginning and one where the guy was decent....until she slept with him and then he changed and became cruel and abusive. She has not had any positive experiences essentially. 

Which leads us to where we are with Lilith today. We see her use her sexuality and men’s sexual attraction to get what she needs and once, but we never see her pursue sex herself. The only time we see her consent to sex is when Adam 2.0 is being so kind and respectful and she initiates that kiss and other things as, we know from her own words, she fell in love with him. But that is the only time we see her engage in sex for her own personal enjoyment. Other times she is just offering the promise of something to trap a man, or she’s using it as a necessary evil (i.e her conception moment with Blackwood). 

Lilith is the perfect example of how sexuality and sex are two very different things. Lilith is very engaged with her sexuality, she embraces it and owns it, she uses, she doesn’t shy away from it. She dresses how she likes, she behaves how she likes etc. Lilith is undoubtedly sexy and she knows it and she likes it and she embraces it and she uses it. 

Sex, however, she seems to treat quite differently. She doesn’t embrace it, she doesn’t encourage it (aside from the leading-on reasons I listed above), she doesn’t engage in it except on very rare occasions. Lilith, ironically, only has slightly more sex than Hilda within the course of the series so far, despite the fact people would consider Hilda and Lilith to be on very opposite sides of the spectrum (Hilda shies away from saying the word to Sabrina, which Lilith would not). 

But while this attitude to actual sex is a product of her negative experiences (she has suffered in everything related to sex so often that she naturally avoids it, except in rare situations where it’s necessary or the even rarer situations where it’s desired-- i.e Adam 2.0, because she subconsciously believes that the odds are it will bring something negative into her life, that it won’t be worth it, or safe, for want of a better word. And considering Adam 2.0 was brutally murdered, her theory hasn’t exactly been disproved. It’s just Adam 2.0 is the only sexual partner who didn’t do the actual hurting) it’s actual a healthy attitude she has, if that makes sense? She recognises she doesn’t want it, recognises her issues with it, and just...doesn’t engage. Lilith no more allows herself to be pressured by the world around her than Hilda does. 

When people talk about a healthy attitude to sex, it’s often talking directly about having sex, but healthy sex is as much about recognising your desire for it as recognising your lack of desire. Not wanting sex, for whatever reason (experience, sexuality, personal decisions) is not something that needs to be fixed or solved, it is just as healthy as someone who likes a lot of sex a lot of the time. Neither are problematic as long as it’s following what you’re comfortable with and your own desire. 

And I just love that Lilith represents this, and it’s kind of subversion of expectation, because they could have gone down the typical, predictable role of ‘sex-obsessed demoness’ but instead they’ve not only subverted it and had Lilith represent someone who can be sexual and sexy without having sex (that the two things are not mutually inclusive or exclusive) but it also, as I said, follows naturally on from her own experiences. 

Lilith has suffered a lot sexually, and it’s only naturally that he would be reluctant and wary in that regard. It’s why she pulls back so much at first when Adam 2.0 first arrives, because, as Mary’s fiancé, Lilith naturally presumes he expects sex, and she has no intention of doing that (probably one of the many reasons she intended to kill him at first). And that’s also why it’s so important when she gives that little nod and they kiss and then they do sleep together; for someone who has such negative associations with sex, it’s a really big deal for someone to be so impressive, so worthy of trust essentially, that she is not only willing to take that risk but wanting to. 

[reluctant-mandalore]

The First of Many: Part II (Din Djarin x Reader)

 The Mandalorian in recent days has become quite cold to you after your wonderfully failed, kind of, confession. Desperate to not have the man of your affections hate you completely, you attempt to mend your friendship by trying to forget your feelings altogether. However, things like that never seem to go to plan. 

Part I || Part II

Word Count:  2,804

Warnings: Angst. Sad little reader. Pining. Slow burn with a little bit of fluff. Just a dash at this point thou. 

a/n: Hello~! Here is the long awaited part 2! School has been stressful ever since I returned from having surgery. Hopefully I can get back into writing more frequently soon! I have some requests lined up that I can’t wait to dish out :3 Also, anyone who wanted to be tagged on the first part has been tagged at the the bottom! 

  Months had passed since your beautifully failed confession, if you could even call it that, to the Mandalorian. You had hoped that with time your Mandalorian companion would begin to open up to you once more. Maybe possibly mending your now strained friendship. Of course, with your luck, the exact opposite happened. If anything the bubbling relationship between you two had dwindled down to a fine point. Mando had been avoiding you like the plague and his attitude towards you had worsened significantly.

  Whenever possible, he would find a reason to leave the room and would barely utter a word to you unless he deemed it necessary. When he did speak it was curt and often filled with a feeling of annoyance. He wouldn’t even look in your direction at this point. Choosing to ignore your presence all together at times. As it seemed, Mando had appeared to have turned to hating you all together. It truly looked like your feelings were unrequited and very much unwanted.  

  Due to his cold behaviour towards you, you at first tried to get over your feelings for him. Hoping that if he noticed, maybe things would go back to how they were before. You tried to tell yourself to just let those feelings disappear, he obviously didn’t feel the same, but letting them go was easier said than done. These feelings had clawed at you, begged you to release them, to let them thrive. You resisted them the best you could, not wanting to bother Mando with your unwanted feelings anymore. Knowing that he hadn’t appreciated them in the slightest. You had decided to try and shove them down deep, trying to act as if they weren’t there are all. Hoping this would fix whatever had broken between you two. 

  Anytime they attempted to escape. you fought harder to keep them at bay. With every inch they took to freedom, you took two inches back, pushing them into the darkness of your soul. Fighting desperately to ignore them and forget that they ever existed. However, no matter how much you tried to forget them, in the end your heart wanted other things. At times you found your emotions spilling over and out. They grasped for the Mandalorian, trying to pull him to you and yet they failed every time, only pushing him farther from you. Your heart, mind, and soul, were at a total war with each other. Fighting for dominance over how to deal with these romantic feelings you possessed for Mando. 

  Did you try and mend what had been broken? Did you try to get over your crush? Did you just come clean to him? Should you confront him about it? Maybe you should apologize for upsetting him? Should you just quit working for him and leave all together? 

 So many questions left unanswered swarmed in your mind and you honestly didn’t know how to handle the situation. Mando was becoming increasingly hard to deal with in regards to his attitude and behaviour to you. It felt as if he was offended by your feelings all together. Maybe he was? Maybe you had stepped over a boundary that he had set for himself. 

   In the end, you decided that it may be better to mend what was broken. In other words, not wanting for the bounty hunter to completely dislike you, lead to you beginning to try and fix your friendship with him. It was fine if he didn’t return your feelings, you’d get over them eventually. Right? 

  This didn’t mean you two had to stop being friends. However, no matter what you tried, it seemed like even a friendship at this point was out of the question. Any conversations you tried to start with the man were easily shut down and when you would enter a room he was in, he would find a reason to leave it as soon as possible. He was avoiding you at all costs, only every interacting with you if it had to be done. Had you really offended him that much? 

  The realization that maybe relationships weren’t part of his religion had dawned on you the one day. There was a possibility that the Mandalorian people didn't like to have those types of relationships. Maybe even not being allowed to have them at all. If this was the case, it was likely you had stepped over a boundary which he had set up for himself and you had made him uncomfortable. Of course, you wouldn’t know for sure until you could ask him about it. Which would not be happening soon as he clearly did not want to interact with you at all in the slightest. 

Why did these kinds of things always happen to you?

  At this point you were just trying to not get fired, but at the same time if he did dislike you as much as he put on, maybe it would be better if you did leave. The last couple days on the Razor Crest had your thoughts consumed by the Mandalorian and the possibility of you leaving your position as the on board babysitter. It might be better that way. Not only for the both of you, but for the child as well.

   It had become very obvious that you two were no longer getting along and you were afraid that it would affect the child. To see two of his most favourite people in the galaxy behaving the way you two were could be difficult for him and would not be good for his development. The child was very important to you and you adored him to no end. You couldn’t bare to see him upset over such grievances. 

  The child's happiness on your mind, you had decided to bring up the issue to Mando. The main issue being your employment of course and the downgrade of your relationship to the adoptive father. If you were to keep working for him, both of you needed to act like adults and work out your problems. If these problems couldn’t be resolved then you would have to resign. Simple and yet heartbreaking all the same. You didn’t want to leave, but you might have to at this point. Even though he had been pretty dedicated to not talking to you, you knew he would talk to you about these issues if it was for the child's continued well being. He cared after the child more than anything. You knew that, saw it every day. He would do anything for that kid. 

  Finding him in the cockpit, you had intended to lay everything out right away, only for the Madnalorian to turn to you and be the first to talk. However, it wasn’t wasn’t for the same reason as you. Caught off guard by him actually addressing you first, you almost missed what he had said. He was informing you that he had found a job while at the local cantina earlier. Hearing this, your previous thoughts from earlier had completely left your mind. The more details from him you heard, the more worried you became about the job. You had a mauled over the details for most of the day after hearing them, starting to become very concerned the more you thought about it. 

  As he had begun to get ready for his departure, you had tried to express to him your concerns in regards to the job, but he seemed to strike them down each time.   

“I have to complete this job, I already accepted it anyway.” The beskar covered man had said to you, his voice sounding irritated through the modulator as he gathered up whatever he would need on this job. You weren’t happy with his answer, biting the inside of your cheek as you watched him go about the Razor Crest. 

  In all honesty, this job sounded more dangerous when compared to the others, at least, to you it had. To the hunter it may have just been a walk in the park, but to you, it just seemed too risky. Not only that, but Mando would be gone for much longer than he usually would when he left for jobs. A few days was very normal, the longest before now was just under a week. However, this time he would be leaving you alone with the child on the Razor Crest for at least 2 weeks, maybe longer if things went sour.  You understood that before now jobs this long were probably normal for him, but now he had the child and you to worry about. Leaving you two alone for that amount of time seemed far too long in your opinion. What if someone attacked while he was gone? You knew some basic defense, all of which Mando had taught you, but you definitely could not fight off another bounty hunter if they came for the kid. 

  Another thought had clawed at your mind though, which was the Mandalorian’s safety. Lately, he seemed to be taking riskier and more dangerous jobs. Before, the jobs seemed tamed and very simple. Some of them you could probably complete on your own if you really wanted to, mind you, that may be stretching the truth just a bit. You highly doubted you could ever be a bounty hunter like he was. You’ve seen him work a couple of times and honestly you knew just how good he was, probably one of the best. So, you weren’t ever too concerned when he left on jobs, but now? He just seemed to be throwing himself at the most difficult of jobs with the most deadly bounties tied to them.

 “Don’t you think you’ve already risked your life enough these past couple weeks? I mean…” You trailed off trying to collect your thoughts, wanting to put it in a way which didn’t offend the man before you. “It just seems too risky this time and you’ll be gone for so long.”  

 “Everything will be fine, I’m the Mandarloian here aren’t I?” He replied quickly, almost defensively. You hadn’t meant for it to sound like you were doubting his ability, you were truly just concerned. Obviously, you had failed at doing so as now his posture was more stiff and stand offish, signalling a more defensive nature from him. 

“What if it doesn’t turn out fine? What if the worst happens?” He seemed to pause at your words this time, his body stiffening as you continued, “What would the kid and I do without you?” 

“Listen-”

 You cut him off before he could finish his words, worried etched upon your features, “-We need you. The child needs you. I need you. We won’t survive if something happens to you Mando.” 

  Your head lowered and your gaze shifted as you felt tears begin to form at the corners of your eyes at the dreadful thoughts running through your find. Not wanting to seem weak before the Mandalorian, you had tried to stop your tears and continue your thoughts to him, only to be cut off by his own actions. His gloved fingers had suddenly come up to grasp your chin, pointing it up towards him and making you stare up into his helmet’s visor. 

  At first you were worried you had overstepped again, that you had insulted him in some way. You had wanted to make him happy with you once more, not more upset, but you never seemed to say or do the right things. It appeared that he was going to lay into you about your unwanted opinion on the matter. Instead, to your surprise, his other hand came to wipe at your tears as they began to roll down your cheeks. 

“I won’t let anything like that happen. I especially won’t let that happen to you.” His voice came out softly through the modulator, “This is my way of life. It’s risky and not the most fair, but this is the way.” 

  Silence had fallen between you two at his words. Nothing was being uttered anymore as you just gazed up at him, your tears beginning to dry and a flush replacing them in their wake. This was the closest you had been to the Mandalorian ever since that incident months ago. Your heart soared for being in such closeness to the man of your affections, especially after all that had happened.

  He almost appeared to be admiring your features, allowing his thumb to run against your bottom lip softly. His other hand was firmly on your lower back now, holding you close to him, allowing his body to press into yours just enough to remind you of your closeness. He was embracing you, holding you close to him just as any normal lover would. 

Now you were just confused beyond belief. 

   Didn’t he hate you? He had made that quite apparent in the last couple months. Why was he embracing you? He couldn’t have hated you if he was holding you like this. On one hand, you were thrilled as your worry about Mando disliking you disappeared. On the other hand, you were still very confused about the closeness. Mando had been avoiding you like the plague for months now, acting as if he had straight up hated you to the very core. Why was he suddenly acting so nice to you? Did something change? Maybe he liked you this whole time and the whole grumpy attitude was just some weird Madnalorian courting thing? You really should as him more about his way of life. One thing was for certain, and that was the fact that the Mandalorian was confusing as hell when it came to social cues. 

  For months, you had fought to keep your feelings at bay, trying to extinguish the flame in your heart that yearned for him. You stomped on those feelings, threw them to the wind and spat on them. Only to pick up the pieces again and sulk at how weak you felt for letting such a little crush control you the way it did. Everything in your being tried to forget those feelings. Trying to forget how much it hurt to not have them returned while desperately grasping at whatever little friendship you still had with the Mandalorian. Thinking that it would be for the best if you did. Yet, here you were, being embraced by the man you swore hated you just a second ago. 

  At this point, the feelings you had so tiredly tried to ignore for the past weeks had started pouring out of you. Leaning towards the Beskar cladded man and settling into his embrace, one of your hands came to place itself firmly on his chest, “Mando…” His nickname leaving your lips in a hushed whisper. 

  A small intake of breath could be heard through his modulator, almost like a gasp, at hearing you speak his nickname so sweetly. His grip on you tightened and he leaned in closer to you as well, his form towering over your smaller one. From this closeness you could feel the heat of him, even through all the armor he wore. The smell of leather and blaster powder was evident, radiating from him to you in waves. At this point you were a mere inches from him, one step forward is all it would take to press that sinful kiss to his helmet. The need to kiss him grew the longer you peered up at him. Did you dare? Would he even let you? You hoped so.  

  Standing on the tips of your toes, you moved closer, your eyes fluttering shut as you went to finally kiss the man you had been wanting all this time. Then suddenly, it stopped. He had seemed to collect himself at this moment, remembering what he was doing and who he was with.

 He straightened now, peering down at your flushing expression, letting go of you in the process before trying to look in any direction that wasn’t you. He cleared his throat, his voice coming out strained, “I need to get going.”

You felt your heart sink again, though admittedly, a new flicker of hope had begun to burn in you, “Yes... of course.”

Gathering his things, the Mandaloiran stood at the exit, staring in at the rolling hills of sand which the planet possessed. He seemed to be thinking to himself pondering on what to say next before turning to face you once more. 

“Wait for me. I’ll be back soon.” With those last words to you, he was off, making his way into the distance. You watched his form weave through the tall dunes, a hand over your beating heart and the other coming up to trace your bottom lip just as he had. 

  You had many questions for the Mandalorian upon his return. 

-----

Tags: Everyone who wanted to be tagged should be here. If I missed anyone or missed pinged I’m sorry!! 

@ holamor @ jellyfishpoptart @ jamesdeerest @retrofaek @morgannope @ lokilover-39 @ twentyonelaris @ murdermewithbooks

[psychokangaroo]

M3 Diary: Infernal Medicine pt 26 because that's what I'm calling it now.

Kind of stuck between the exhaustion and the pending hospice/goals of care transition/deaths today, I saw something pretty amazing that reminds me of why I loved psychiatry from a long time ago.

We walked in on this patient who is in DKA and grouchy and very hungry and thirsty. Hes angry. Hes angry that he doesn't get to eat food. The intern was not getting through to him at all. And he was starting to swear at all of us and refusing all treatment.

And then my senior did something pretty remarkable. She stopped. She shushed the intern in a nice way, and she stopped. She let the grouchy yelling patient finish. And then she let him fall silent. And then she started replying to him in a quiet and firm voice, empathizing with bis feelings, and somehow getting him to understand why we are doing what we do.

And it turns out, all he was irritated about was not knowing thr plan and feeling not being cared for.

By the time we finished, the man sheepishly apologized for yelling and saying that he's also bipolar and working on his mood swings too, and he's very grouchy today. And what started as an aggressive encounter turned into a softly pleasant one.

Not to toot my own horn, but this encounter reminded me of my first patient at the VA, with a highly intelligent and opionanted man who is probably considered a "difficult" patient, mostly because he likes to set his own schedules within reason amd wants to know everything about what and why he's getting the treatment that he does.

And as a black man, its completely understandable why he is the way he is, given the way that medical research has failed BlPOC again and again. The man was irritated ans done the first time I saw him. Almost right from the get go, he reminded me of the hospitalized patient I saw on psych consult way back in September when I started third year. And I remember all the ways I learned to listen to patients from that rotation. I put my notes and ny pen away, and took a seat on the windowsill next to his bed. And just let him talk, asking him questions about what is the most important thing to him, what matters to him, and how to make everything better. And when there was silence, I remembered what my own therapist once told me in jest (hey, feel free to keep silent. I'm a therapist. I am very good at dealing with silences).

And I came often too. The man was a little lonely. My personal patient list was pretty empty, and he had few visitors. I end up spending an hour or more chatting with him every day, mostly him talking. We talked a lot too, probably beyond what is generally considered appropriate professional conversation, like religion, politics, gender/sexual identity, his own background and my allusion to my own traumas growing up. I think he grew to trust and like me, and I think he was more trusting of us to at least giving him good options he can trust. At least, that's what he told my attending.

Both my patients and thr patient today reminded me some of the things that have fallen into the back if my mind these days and what made me love third year. Medicine is as much about the science of providing treatments with the best evidence for treatment as about the art of building relationships with people, some of whom distrust you and/orndislike you. Its easy to brush them off as difficult people, but more often than not, these people are understandably frustrated for very legitimate reasons. The hospital is a stressful place, and they sometimes need someone to vent to before they feel comfortable with accepting new information from thr endless stream of people parading in and out. And one of the most magical things that I've been told during first year and I now see applied in real time was thr magic of silence. Taking a breath, sitting down, and let your patient have a moment to finish their thoughts, rest, and process. Thag silence isn't awkward. It is restorative, taking people out of the din and chaos and into a moment of peace.

PS. Several years ago, I got into a fight with a classmate I started medical school with. She was talking about patients/colleagues in a way that is almost like she has quite a bit of internalized misogyny. She complained about fitness moms getting a boob job. She complained about bitchy nurses giving her an attitude. She complained about mean co-med students. I called her out on the way she describes her female colleagues. She blew up on me for calling her not super compassionate and promptly blocked me on facebook. I was pretty frustrated with her at the time, but also worried I may have gone too far. Besides, maybe she did happen to meet particularly annoying coworkers and patients. After all, I had not done my clerkship at the time so how would I know? How can I judge?

But now that im almost done with clerkships, I feel that mg criticism of her was more justified. I met some people who are tired and frustrated, but never in a malignant way that she described to me. Amd I have met some interesting situations. I have been yelled at. I have been cursed at. I have been threatened (although the pt is very unlikely to carry out the threat, plus she was manic). I met people who have murdered or committed other serious crimes. I dont know what it says about my distress tolerance, but none of that seem all that bad to me. In the end, these people are in a bad place, and in need of help. And despite all the "scary" encounters, in the end people re just people, flawed and human, much like myself. And I think that it is my job to lend a hand, not only with providing treatments but also doing the simple job of slowing down and offering am ear

[manatehispants]

Look For A Savior

Summary:

This is an AU story of the events which took place for Gabriel during the second series of the Lucifer comic.

"I've been looking for a savior in these dirty streets . Looking for a savior beneath these dirty sheets. I've been raising up my hands, drive another nail in, got enough guilt to start my own religion."

- Crucify by Tori Amos

When one thinks of the Archangel Gabriel many images come to the mind. For some an image of untouchable pureness and holiness beyond all measures is what comes fourth to their mind. For others they see what they assume to be their only hope at salvation from their sins and the evils of this world. Still for others the mere mention of God's Messenger brings fear to them. For when they think of him they are reminded of the horrors which God can unleash when he is angered. Then there are some still who would smile with fondness over hearing his name because to when they think of him, they see a being that is more glorious and beautiful than Earthly words can ever hope to describe. For none would image of a bitter, drunken disgraced son come to their mind. Yet that is exactly what has become of the once proud Archangel.

If you asked your average human where they thought Gabriel was they would laugh a bit before answering that he was in Heaven with all the Holy Host. Perhaps they would tell you he was besides God awaiting his orders. Waiting to deliver his next message. This answer once would have been true. Yet now-a-days things had greatly changed. No longer did Gabriel speak to his Father and no longer did he spend his time in the magnificent Silver City. In fact he wasn't allowed anywhere near the Silver City any longer. Twice in the last four years he had been casted out of Heaven. Not that he much gave a shit about that anymore. Fuck the Silver City and all of the Heavenly Host for that matter. They didn't want him around? Well, he wasn't about to keep trying to force his company on them and try to fix what was an unrepairable situation. If he couldn't be a blessing to Heaven.....He would become their curse. He would make them wish that they had never ever demeaned him in the ways which they had done so.

It was with this bitter and rage clouding his mind that he went seeking out Mazikeen (Hell's newest ruler). She had once told him in the future he would join Hell and become one of her most trusted loyal soldiers. At the time Gabriel had assumed she was purely saying this derisions to cause him dismay and attempt to get a rise out of him. After all she was still a demon and wasn't that what demons did best? Didn't she even go as far to do this to Lucifer at times? A man whom she claimed to respect more than anyone. Although of course knowing Lucifer he probably got off in some sick and twisted way on Mazikeen taunting him. Not that Gabriel spent much time thinking on that. The less time thinking about any of his family the better. Never did God’s Ex-Messenger think there would be the slightest hint of truth to the demoness’ words. Yet in the end her words which he had took for taunts had ended up becoming his unavoidable reality.

Willingly the once proud Angel went to the ruler of Hell. He kneeled before her, lowered his head and asked for her to allow him to become her servant. A cold smile had crept onto the visible side of Mazikeen’s face as she granted Gabriel his plea. Gabriel was sure that after the deal had been made he would regret it and he would feel terribly for having entered into such a bargain. He was sure that guilt over betraying all of Heaven would quickly overwhelm him. This proved not to be the case. The moment Mazikeen’s hand touched his head finalizing their agreement, the fallen angel felt for the first time in years now that he had done something right. He finally felt like he was now able to do something about all his anger and bitterness that had been building up. He once again felt his life had some sense of direction and maybe even the slightest bit of meaning to it.

Gabriel had gone to Hell and made this deal assuming Mazikeen was going to make his life miserable. He had figured she would gloat about having been right on him joining her. That she would mock him for his fall as so many did when they learned what had become of him. Much to his amazement she hadn't done any of that. Mazikeen was almost in her own way kind to him. She kept him close by her side while being careful to give him what space he may need. Mazikeen listened when he spoke or she acted as if she was. This was more than could be said of his Father in recent times. Still, this proved not to be the most shocking thing about Hell's new ruler. Gabriel had quickly come to learn that Mazikeen was a much different ruler than Lucifer had been.

Lucifer had always been bored by his job. He didn't never give a damn about it as far as Gabriel could gather. Mazikeen gave off the impression of someone who cared about being the best ruler she could be. She also cared a great deal about the beings she ruled. Sure if someone so much as gave off the tiniest hint that they might be thinking of displeasing her, Mazikeen would not hesitate to personally destroy said being. Still, she also had a very protective streak to her over the ones she ruled. It was clear that the demoness would not stand for any disrespect whatsoever from her followers. It was equally clear that she would defend each and every last one of them till her dying breath against that would dare stand against them.

Never in all of his billions of years of being would Gabriel ever think he would say this but, he was quickly growing to respect Mazikeen. Sure, there were times he still didn't agree with her and certain she said or did still made him feel ill at times. Nonetheless the respect remained there and grew with each day. Despite this new found respect there was still so much he didn't understand about her. The biggest thing he didn't get was this, now that Lucifer had shown back up why did she keep insisting on ruling this place? Why not give Lucifer his stupid Lightbringer powers back and call it a day? Lucifer had even stood before Mazikeen and damn near begged her to do this. So why hadn't she? Gabriel glanced to his side where Mazikeen sat in typical fashion on the throne of Hell. A seat once occupied by Gabriel's older brother. He frowned uncertainly as Mazikeen gazed over at him and raised an eyebrow.

"If you have something on your mind then speak, angel. Surely even you know that staring at people is considered rude."

Mentally the disgraced angel rolled his eyes. Mazikeen really did have an attitude much like Lucifer when she wanted to. Shoving his hands into his pockets Gabriel spoke up.

"Why do you this? I mean really.....What's the point in this? You don't seem happy about ruling Hell as good as you are at. Lucifer is back. Why not give him back the powers and be done with this? As much as he may deny it Hell is still his responsibility isn't it? Make him deal with this."

A long silence followed Gabriel's questions. For a moment he wasn't sure she was going to answer him. He thought she might just attack him. After what was starting to feel like a life time the Queen Of Hell spoke.

"I do this because as you said I am good at it. Hell no longer has anything to do with your brother. He gave up on this long before he left here. I will not do the same. I will not run off from my responsibilities and I will not abandon the ones who depend on me as he has done to me. I keep these powers as a reminder of what was done to me."

Gabriel narrowed his eyes at Mazikeen. Despite what some may say he wasn't a complete fool. He knew there was much more to the story than she was saying. As much as she claimed to no longer need Lucifer and to be angry with him, she still loved him. He was as sure of this as he was sure that Lucifer too still loved her. Mazikeen once more arched an eyebrow at the Archangel.

"What? Are you disappointed by my answer? Had you been hoping for some mind blowing and life changing answer from this all?"

Gabriel shook his head, his dark hair brushing up against the top of his eyelids as he did so.

"No. Forget it, stupid question."

Ebony feathered wings extended from Gabriel's back as he started to take to the air. Mazikeen's face went back to being impossible to read as she watched him with but a hint of boredom.

"And where is it you're planning to go now?"

Gabriel was already a good hundred yards in the air. He shouted over his shoulder to her as he kept making his exit from the throne room and now Hell itself.

"You know perfectly well where I am going. Where I always go now-a-days. To get a damn drink."

God's ex-Messenger could swear for a second as he made his exit that he heard Mazikeen laughing at his words. This would make most reconsider that drink but for Gabriel this only made him want a drink more. Gabriel headed to a run down bar in the heart of Los Angles a few blocks from where Lucifer had his own bar. Gabriel had considered for a briefly going into Lux (or was Lucifer still calling it Ex-Lux?) but he then thought better of this idea. If he went there he would end up having to talk to Lucifer who would either worsen his mood by mocking him over something or rope into some fucked up scheme. This would also only worsen his mood.

So, if he didn't want to see his brother why go to Los Angeles at all? Why risk a run in with someone who would surely piss him off? Maybe somewhere along the lines Gabriel had become one of those sick freaks who got off on life being shitty. No, if that was really the case he would still be trying to prove himself to Heaven and arguing with them over things. Maybe the truth was something much more simple. Perhaps some small part of him wanted to run into Lucifer because Lucifer was one of only handful who still treated him half way decent at times even if the ex-Morningstar was an asshole. Plus there was the fact that unlike most Lucifer understood what it was like to have once been favored by Heaven only to later have them hate you.

As thoughts of his elder brother clouded his mind, Gabriel frowned. No, he didn't want to see him. Lucifer didn't understand shit. Unlike Gabriel, Lucifer had never wanted any part of Heaven. He had never cared about pleasing Father, about being pure, or anything other than his own damn selfish desires and that still was all the man cared about. Frowning, the Archangel sat himself down at the bar. He raised his hand slightly to get the bartend's attention.

"So what will it be?"

The bartender asked as he approached Gabriel and leaned himself slightly over the counter top. Gabriel frowned. He really shouldn't be drinking at all. Lucifer last time he was at Lux had took notice of his drinking and if even the devil is has words to say about how much you drink you really know you got problems. Fuck it. Who the Hell gave a damn what Lucifer or anyone else thought anyways?

"Doesn't matter to me so long as it is strong and you keep them coming."

Gabriel remarked as he took his wallet out and set some money on the countertop. For a brief moment the bartender looked as if he was going to argue with the disgraced angel. Maybe even go as far as to attempt to talk him out of drinking. However one look at Gabriel was enough to tell the bartender nothing he might say was going to change Gabriel's mind on getting drunk at this point. The bartender shrugged, got out a whiskey glass and filled it. Keeping his gaze on the fallen Archangel he pushed the drink over to him.

"Rough day, buddy?"

The bartender asked in a rather thick New York accent that had some level of concern etched into it. Without hesitation Gabriel down his drink in one quick gulp and gently pushed the glass back to the bartender. He shook his head and softly laughed to himself. His hues of an unnatural blue fell onto the bartender.

"More like rough few years."

Now it was the bartender's turn to chuckle although unlike Gabriel who seemed slightly amused when he had laughed the bartender's laugh was one of clear nervousness. He quickly refilled the glass and passed it back to Gabriel.

"Yeah, I know what you mean. I hear that a lot."

Snorting in a rather undignified mannerism Gabriel once more laughed only this time his laughter was angry and bitter. He downed his drink again and shoved it back at the bartender.  Using a bit more force than necessary. Gabriel scowled at the bartender.

"No. You have no idea what I mean."

The bartender opened his mouth. Perhaps he was going to agree with Gabriel or maybe he was about to counterattack. Whatever the case Gabriel didn’t want to hear it. He ran a hand down his face.

“Look, less talk tonight and more pouring....Please?”

The bartender’s face hardened up, but the near begging tone in Gabriel’s final word softened him back up. 

“Sure, pal.”

After this the only sound in the otherwise empty bar was Gabriel and the bartender sliding his glass back and forth.

[ehstarwar]

flesh stays no farther reason (2/6)

It takes three weeks for him to contact her again.

A one word text after only one night of fucking (albeit, glorious, life-altering, religion-defying fucking) shouldn’t make her heart flutter the way it does now.

-

Five times Ben looks for Rey and the one time she finds him.

-

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4.7K

Read on AO3

2

rank sweat of an enseamed bed

It takes three weeks for him to contact her again.

She’s just gotten home from what is, quite possibly, the most draining shift she’s had this year, when the notification brightens her phone, and subsequently, her day.

From u/KyL0_R3N

Hi.

A one word text after only one night of fucking (albeit, glorious, life-altering, religion-defying fucking) shouldn’t make her heart flutter the way it does now. 

From u/R3yoflight

hey

From u/KyL0_R3N

How have you been?

From u/R3yoflight

good, for the most part

work sucks, but thats just the way it goes ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

hbu?

meeting go well??

From u/KyL0_R3N

I’m glad you’re doing good. Sorry about work. 

I know how that can be, unfortunately.

The meeting did go well. Thank you for asking.

I’m sorry I didn’t call you after our night together.

Rey stares down at her phone, not knowing how to respond. 

The morning after their night together was a point of contention in Rey’s mind. On one hand, it was a hook-up. An old-fashioned, wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am hook-up that just so happened to be between two thoroughly compatible people. They had barely even talked to one another. She hadn’t made fun of his stupid, clearly made-up name, hadn’t teased him for his large ears that she found too endearing, she hadn’t even gotten his actual phone number. 

But… it was so, so sweet.

The way he had handled her was not that of an impassive man looking to get off and get going. It was of someone who knew how to take care of another, who wanted to take care of her. The gentleness of his lips from the last time they kiss will forever be burned into her brain.

Part of her had expect get a call the next day, with Kylo confessing that he had the same butterfly feeling she did. After a few days past and she hadn’t received so much as a new post alert on reddit from him, she decided to push back the feelings into a tight corner of her mind that was slowly filling up with emotions she wasn’t ready to unpack. 

From u/R3yoflight

it’s nbd, i know how hook-ups go

don’t feel bad

From u/KyL0_R3N

I think it is a big deal, but I know what you mean.

I would like to see you again.

Would you like to see me?

Would she? Would she even survive being with Kylo Ren again?

Rey decides its all comes down to attitude, and she’ll go in with a better one this time.

From u/R3yoflight

yeah, i would

u have another big meeting u need to prep 4?

It takes him a whole 10 minutes to respond, a first for him.

From u/KyL0_R3N

Sure.

What about the 8th? 

Does that work for you?

From u/R3yoflight

i work the 7th and the 8th, but the hotel we 

were at last time is p close to my job

i could meet you there and just pack stuff

for work

From u/KyL0_R3N

We can do another date so you don’t have to do that.

From u/R3yoflight

nah 

i don’t want u to have to move ur meeting

so im good if ur good

From u/KyL0_R3N

Of course.

I’m good, too.

From u/R3yoflight

🤗🤗🤗

-

Rey bounces the ball of her foot on the hard concrete beneath her, watching the clock with rapt attention. The minutes seem to slow the further she got into the day, making the last hour and a half feel like an eon. Plutt had already barked at her to make herself useful somewhere, but there’s only so much to do when they’re down cars for the day. 

The moment the clock strikes 5:30, Rey is out of the shop like a bat out of hell. She thinks about stopping in some bathroom and changing into a skirt or dress or at least some clean underwear, but she can’t bring herself to waste that much time.

She want’s to see Kylo. Desperately. 

The wall she’d constructed around all her curiosities from their last meeting had come crumbling down with the promise of a second one, and this time, she was determined to know a little bit more about the man in question.

He’d sent her the room number a few hours ago, letting her know to meet him there whenever she got off work. Her mind had already begun reeling in the possibilities of tonight by that point, and it only added gas to the flame.

There’s a thin sheen of sweat on her forehead when she walks into the lobby, and a few things become apparent at once.

One, the hotel is full to the brim with people who look like they make in an hour what she makes in 5 years.

Two, she absolutely should have taken the time to change into something that wasn’t the grease-stained overalls that had seen much better days, probably long before she’s fished them out of a bin at the goodwill.

Three, the doorman (with white gloves) looked moments away from calling the cops on her. 

“Excuse me, miss,” the doorman says, walking up to Rey. She gulps and prays with every fibre in her being that he’ll just inform her she dropped something and let her go on her merry way. “May I ask if you’re staying at this establishment?” His tone isn’t accusatory… yet.

“Um… sort of? I’m meeting someone,” She explains. A few of the posh guest are trying to remain inconspicuous as they attempt to hear what’s going on. It makes her cheeks burn red.

“Ah, well, the bar is downstairs and… there is a dress code.”

Rey has felt small plenty of times before in her life. This is nothing new.

“He’s in his- our room, already,” She tells him, keeping her eyes on the doorman and actively ignoring the now-open stares of the lobby. The doorman’s eyes narrow.

“Why don’t you check in with the front desk to make sure you have the correct room number, shall we?” Without waiting for her response, the man moves his arm and begins walking her to the far end of the lobby, where beautiful women in black blazers stare on at her.

“I really don’t think that’s necessary. I’ll just call Kylo and tell him I can’t-“”

“I beg your pardon?” The blood runs out of the face of the doorman. “What did you say your friend’s name was?”

“Kylo. He’s upstairs but I don’t want to bug-”

“My apologies, Miss. I had no idea that Mr. Ren was expecting guest. Allow me to escort me to your suite-”

“That’s really not necessary. I’ll just go now-” 

“Rey?”

Her whole body freezes as his voice cuts across the lobby. She doesn’t turn to look at him, instead still focusing on the now queezy-looking doorman. She feels his presence come up beside her, and the warm, large hand come to rest on her lower back.

“Is everything alright?” He asks.

The doorman looks at her with wide eyes and a pleading stare.

“Everything was fine, I was just coming upstairs.” The lie rolls off her tongue and she hopes she sounds convincing. Rey finally glances upwards to look at Kylo, maybe to flash him an ill-advised smile and silently say ‘lets go please.’

It is striking just how beautiful he is, especially after so long without seeing him. His hair looks even more perfect now than she was remembering it, but Rey assumes that her imagination will never quite compete with the real thing. 

“You we’re taking a while and I got nervous. I’m glad I came down when I did.” His eyes shoot over to the doorman who looks moments away from passing out, so she acts quickly.

“Well, I’m here. Let’s get going, please.” Rey takes both her hands and pushes against the solid bark that is his chest, and Kylo eventually complies, but still sending a death glare the the rest of the hotel staff.

When she’s finally pushed them into the elevator and they’re blessedly alone, Rey takes a deep breath of relief. For as poorly as that interaction went, it could’ve gone much worse.

“What did he say to you?”

Kylo’s voice is low and sends the wrong kind of nervousness to her gut. 

“He was just making sure I was in the right place. He had every right to ask what I was doing here. I mean, I know how I’m dressed and how I look, so if we could just move on-“”

“No one should speak down to you, no matter how you’re dressed, Rey. It isn’t okay.”

“But it is!” She snaps. “Because I know people in the service industry are just doing what their told and that guy is probably underpaid as is and his boss would have reprimanded him if he’d said nothing, so it’s fine!”

Kylo stays silent beside her and she can’t bring herself to look at him. The elevator takes it’s time, crawling to their floor, but blessedly does not stop to board anyone else.

“You were going to leave, weren’t you?” He asks, voice suddenly much smaller than it was a moment ago.

“I just don’t want to be a problem for anybody. For you, for the doorman, for… I probably should leave, even now,” Rey admits. For an evening she was so looking forward to, it really is going sour.

Rey feels a hand come around her cheek and gently guide her to look up at him. His expression is softer now and his lips have that delicious pout that she should absolutely not be thinking about kissing right now.

“You’re not a problem.”

Kylo stares down at her with such intensity, she thinks she’ll melt right then and there.

The elevator chime breaks them from their reverie and Kylo steps out into the hallway. He holds his hand out for her, looking at her with a question. Giving her an option. You can go back down and leave right now and just remember Kylo Ren fondly for the rest of your life or you can go with him right now and see whatever else this bizarre experience will give to you, her mind says. 

Rey makes up her mind and takes his hand.

-

She’s on him the moment he closes the door behind them. No warning, no hesitation; just Rey pouncing on Kylo. She kisses him so deeply, the way she’s thought about for the last 3 and a half weeks, that she can feel it in her toes. For his part, Kylo doesn’t seem all that surprised. He scoops her up in his arms the moment she’s between them, making Rey’s heart flutter.

He holds her up, not pinned to anything and just lets her make out with him. Suspended in air, only holding onto him, hands touching any part of him she can reach; it’s delicious. 

“We should… go to… the bed…” He says between kisses. Rey whines into his mouth (why, she’ll never know).

“No… here…” She breaths against his lips. 

Kylo immediately lowers them to the floor, and holds himself above her. The carpet is plush against her back and is almost softer than the old futon she’s been using as a bed for the last few years.

“You… deserve a bed…” He says, while quickly undoing the buttons to her overalls. She’s trying to help him, but her hands get distracted by the growing hardness between his legs. 

“What this… here is good…” She tries to say. She’s not sure if this would make sense to anyone outside of the two of them, but she’s can’t care at the moment. 

The second the last button comes undone, Kylo focuses on getting her completely bare. He practically rips off every piece of clothing on her body, until she’s left only in her tube socks. When her hands go to take them off, he stops her.

“Leave it,” Kylo orders. Rey feels herself gush. 

Once she’s in the perfect state of undress, Kylo doesn’t even bother taking off the rest of his clothes. He just opens his belt and fly, taking out his beet-red cock and pumping it a few times. 

“… Missed your cunt…” He says against her lips as he slides the head of his cock over her core. She’s squirming under him, trying to force him to put it inside of her. “… so tight and wet for me…and you’ll just… let me make a mess of it, huh? Let me fuck it ‘till it’s… molded to me… full of my come…”

She arches her back, pressing her chest into the coarse fibers of his shirt. His hands go to hold down her abdomen as he slides himself into her, stretching her out every bit of the way.

The drag of him makes Rey delirious; like Kylo is reaching a part of her that hasn’t existed until he came into her life. If she thought that her body would be more accepting of him since last time, she would be wrong. 

“… take me so fucking well, baby…” Kylo breaths, making Rey clench. He whimpers at the sensation. Her hands go up to his neck, one holding him there and the other rubbing the shell of his ear. His whole body trembles beneath her touch. He grips the underside of her thigh, as a warning almost, before pounding into her. 

Full force, no hold-backs, pounding her right into the floor. She’s sure he’ll have to tip housekeeping very well this time around. 

With every stroke, Kylo make Rey feel split in two. He bumps her cervix more often than not, and her clit rubs deliciously on the metal of his belt buckle. The hard, cold metal feels so good and so rough that Rey is reduced to muffled cries and moans agains his skin. 

He bites more hickeys into her chest and shoulders, deeper and harder than the ones last time. Her chest will be covered in purple marks of Kylo for a long time to come and she loves it. Her legs wrap around to his back, squeezing him. His movements become messy and uncoordinated and she knows he’s close, just from the sounds he’s making above her. Rey does nothing to stop her oncoming orgasm, just letting the feeling wash over her as she convulses beneath Kylo.

He with her the next moment, come spilling out of him like the grunts spilling from his mouth. His hips still thrust, harder and more infrequent, like he’s making his final claim on her body. She lets him manhandle her as she feels a warm, sloshing heat in her core. 

Kylo rest on top of her as their breathing slows. Rey feels a twinge of carpet burn on her back and her ass but ignores it. Kylo’s hands have found their way to her sides, nearly engulfing her waist. They slide up her arms until they find her hands, and interlocks their fingers together. 

He plants warm, wet kisses on her sternum, up her throat, and eventually her lips. Rey smiles into the kiss. 

Then, as if called, her stomach growls so loud, Kylo stills. He pulls back to look down at her with a quirked eyebrow. She bites her lip and her cheeks would be red from embarrassment if they weren’t already red from their fucking.

“… would you like dinner?” He asks. She nods. 

-

The wet ends of her hair tickle the back of neck, so she pushes it out of the robe. The water pressure in the massive shower was enough for Rey to sell her soul, but the burger she’s currently devouring is coming in at a close second. 

After their entryway tryst, Rey had happily jumped into the shower while Kylo had ordered them dinner, assuring her that she could order both the Tomato Bisque and french fries as her side.

When she’d gotten out and into the plush robe, Rey had found Kylo on one side of the bed, some nascar race on the TV, and him biting into his too-raw-for-her-taste steak. 

It was a beautiful sight. 

She’s sitting at the edge of the bed, Kylo on the other side and a few feet away from her, both watching the television. It’s too quiet for how loud her head is right now, so she can’t help the word vomit that forms.

“What do you mean when you say you’re in tech?” She asks, eyes still on the television screen.

“I work in research and development for a technology company,” he tells her, unhelpfully.

“What does that even mean?” She can’t help but sound exasperated. 

“My job is to come up with the next best gadget or update and figure out a way to make it work,” he says as he shifts on the bed. Rey still hasn’t looked at him.

“Must be hard to be successful in that field right now… I mean, First Order pretty much has a monopoly on any techie thing out there.”

Kylo chuckles.

“I wouldn’t exactly say monopoly… but yeah. But I still make do.”

Rey hums while chewing.

“Do you like working at an auto shop?” He asks, after a few moments of silence between them. She shrugs.

“I like fixing things, so that parts nice, but… my boss sucks.”

“Why don’t you go work somewhere else?” Rey can’t stop the sharp ‘ha!’ that escapes her.

“I’m a young, female mechanic, with no higher education degree, who’s immigration status is tenuous at best, who can barely afford her half of a shithole of an apartment. I’m not the bright, shining pupil that most places would want to take on.”

She finally looks back over at Kylo, who seems to be in thought while polishing off the rest of his food. 

“If you’re struggling financially, I could-”

She cuts him off. “No. That’s not what this is about.” The burger suddenly taste like ash in her mouth, so she sets the rest of it down. “I make due on my own. I don’t need a… benefactor.” This makes him chuckle, causing Rey to give him an incredulous look. 

“Sorry, sorry…” He chuckles, “It’s just… benefactor? I at least think I would be deserving the title of sugar daddy.” Rey rolls her eyes and throws a soggy french fry at him. He catches it and eats it right away.

“I don’t need a benefactor or sugar daddy. But… thank you.”

They fall silent for a while before Kylo gets up and removes the trays from their room. Rey scoots back, laying herself in the middle of the bed between the mountain of pillows. When Kylo returns, he stays at the foot of the bed, watching Rey. They say nothing, just keep heavy eye contact with one another. 

Her eyes rake down his form, shirtless with some joggers on. She doesn’t see a band of underwear so she hopes that means he’s going without. 

Feeling bold, she pushes herself up and craws her way across the bed to him. When she’s finally in front of him, she goes on her knees so that they’re eye level. Her hands trace the muscles in his arms and chest, dipping down to his toned abdomen. Rey feels his eyes on her face the entire time, but looks down to wherever her hands go to next. 

“I didn’t get the opportunity to ride you, last time,” her eyes flick up to his, “I think we should rectify that.”

Kylo doesn’t say anything, just keeps looking at her with that intense gaze that could kill a lesser woman. His hands come up to push the robe off her shoulders, pooling around her calves and revealing her naked body. 

His hands brush up her sides as they make their way to her jaw, and when he’s finally got a hold of her, he kisses her. It’s slower than any of the ones they shared earlier, and reminds her of that goodbye kiss from last time; the sweetest nectar that she’ll never be able to perfectly replicate with anyone else.

The kiss deepens and Kylo crawls into bed with her. They move until she’s situated over him, straddling his stomach. His hands kneed her ass, pushing the flesh until she’s sure it’ll bruise. She allows herself to grind on him, making his abs slick with her want. His hands suddenly let go of her, and she feels him go to push off his joggers. 

Rey kisses his neck, remembering what he said in all those earlier messages about liking both giving and receiving hickeys. So she bites. He gasps. 

When he’s finally naked, Rey reaches around to pull at him. He’s already so hard and dripping that Rey gets a little swell of pride. She takes him in hand once she scoots back, and holds him center with her. She glides down on him, slick enough to take him in one go.

His whole body is flushed, his lips even poutier than normal, his breath coming out in spurts. 

“Why… do I aways feel… like you’re holding back… whenever you… get your cock… in me,” She asks between shallow thrust. Kylo tips his head back as his hands go to hold her hips.

“Rey… your cunt… I could fucking come right now. I don’t care if we have sex every day for the next year… your cunt is like a vice. I could come in you right now… fuck…” Rey smiles down at him, proud to see this big man reduced to the puddle he’s currently in. It’s as endearing as it is hot.

She starts to move in earnest, riding him with her whole body. She eats up the sounds he makes, his praises of ‘good girl’ and ‘riding daddy’s cock so well.’

Without her asking, Kylo brings a thumb to her clit, moving in time with her thrust, making her yelp. “Need you… to come… with me…” He breaths. Rey nods as she adjust her angle, making him hit the spot in her that’s guaranteed to get her there in no time. 

Her hips can’t keep up with his thrust, so their movement become sloppy, until Kylo takes charge and starts guiding her and slamming up into her.

“… So perfect… riding my cock like a good girl… you’re so fucking hot… like this…” He says, but his praises are lost on her as she’s thrown over the edge. Rey complies into him and Kylo catches her, still pistoling his hips into her. He comes after a few more thrust, biting into her skin like last time.

Rey rides out the last of her orgasm while he’s still pulsing inside of her. Her hands still grip at his shoulders and Kylo wraps his arms around her back and hold her there. She feels the warm rush of fluids dribbling out of her, and Rey knows he can feel his own come dripping back down his cock, but he makes no indication that they need to move. 

They stay like this so long, Rey cradled against Kylo’s chest, feeling so safe and warm and wanted, that she falls into the deepest sleep.

-

She’s groggy when she wakes. Kylo has maneuvered them so that she’s tucked under his arm, halfway covering his torso. He’s snoring lightly and the rise and fall of his chest is oddly soothing. She lays there for a while, hours maybe, but isn’t able to fall back asleep. 

Rey busies herself by looking at him unashamedly. Kylo is built, to say the very least. His arms are thick with muscle, and even relaxed, his stomach looks well toned. 

Why did he need to post that on reddit? She thinks. He’s beautiful. He could get anyone just off his looks, let alone his wallet. 

Eventually he stirs, hands instantly seeking her out, and head going into the crook of her neck and nuzzling there. His hair tickles her, making her giggle lightly against him as he holds her even closer.

“What time is it?” He asks, voice muffled by her skin. She glances at the clock across from her.

“6:27… I’ll need to leave in an hour,” she says. Her voice is quiet and she feels a slight, almost imperceptible shift in his body language. She brings her hands up, running her fingers through his hair, hoping he’ll relax back again. 

Neither of them say anything for a while, and it’s becoming very clear that their form of intimacy is best experienced in silence. It should concern her how quickly they’re forming habits. It’s probably one of the first things he wanted to avoid when making that post.

But the sound of soft rain hitting the window, the warmth of the expensive sheets, the feel of Kylo’s body pressed against hers, makes it very hard for Rey to feel sorry for anything. 

They shower together, after she came up with some half-hearted excuse that it would save time and water, but he makes no sexual advances on her, so she doesn’t try and pester him. Would it be nice to end their tryst with some wet shower sex or even mutual oral? Sure, but Rey didn’t want to push her luck. She was glad enough to spend this time with him, even if neither of them were getting off.

When they’re both dry and dressed, him in a perfectly tailored suit and her in the same greasy overalls from yesterday, he takes her hand. She had been reaching for her bag, but lost momentum halfway through when he touched her.

“I… don’t want to go another three weeks without seeing or hearing from you again,” he tells her. 

“You can call me? I’ll give you my number. I work usually six days a week, but sometimes I’ll have a few days off in a row, so… we can meet up then, if you’re… up for it?” She tells him. Something in his face falls, but she doesn’t quite know where to place it.

“…That would be… yeah. We should exchange numbers.” 

He passes him her phone as she does the same, putting in her number with the little purple devil emoji beside it because he probably doesn’t have any emojis in his contacts and she wasn’t him to remember her. Not that she’s overly concerned with that happening, but, it’s always better to be safe.

When they exchange phones again, she looks down to see the contact he’s placed, but looks back up at him, confused.

“Ben Solo… what’s that?”

“Me… well, my real name. I haven’t gone by it in a while but… I just wanted you to know it,” he tells her. Rey’s lips tremble. You are not going to cry because he told you his real name, she chides herself. It is the absolute bare minimum to do, so you will not read into it more than you should.  

“Well…” She begins, looking down at the phone again because looking in his eyes is too much right now, “It is a very nice name. Certainly more realistic than Kylo Ren.”

Ben has the wherewithal to look a little sheepish at her teasing. He brings a hand through his hair and smiles at the floor.

“It was something I liked when I was a teenager and became too rebellious for my own good. It was my first aol email,” He says. Rey laughs as she imagines a gangly 13-year-old Ben running home to his computer every day after school and changing his AIM status to some moody-angst ridden lyric of a bad he thought was too cool for mainstream.

When the laughter dies down and Rey is able to look at him without bursting into giggles, she thanks him.

“Thank you for last night. And for… telling me your name.” He smiles at her, and puts a hand on her jaw, tilting her head further up. Before he can bring her into another soul-melting kiss, she speaks again.

“Ben is a very nice name but… I think I prefer calling you daddy.”

His grin is wolfish. 

[victoria-daydreams]

Lost in the Stars - Part VI

Part V

AN: I don’t know what it was about the last chapter, but I’m pretty sure that is the most notes I’ve received so far lol, Not that I’m not happy or grateful, I just thought it was funny to see such a dramatic uptick.

Summary: When Sarela Reyes accepted a bounty to find some  missing child it should have been a simple job. What she got instead was  a chance meeting with a certain Mandalorian, and her world was never  the same.

The setting sun cast a fiery, orange glow on the various buildings that surrounded Sarela and the Mandalorian as they made their way to the docking bay where his ship was stationed. After the pair's mini brawl in the cantina, they managed to track down Jazen again and spoke with Mayor Vullen through her holoprojector. She told him of their progress so far, unsurprisingly, Mayor Vullen was infuriated at what had transpired between Lora and her "friends". Sarela wasn't sure if it was spur of the moment or if Mayor Vullen actually meant it, but he wanted all the culprits of his daughter's kidnapping to hang.

Jazen nearly fainted before the mayor finished his tirade.

It took Sarela a long time to calm the mayor down, to explain to him whole situation of what led up to Lora's kidnapping. By the time she concluded the end of her report, she knew that she managed to talk down Mayor Vullen from his threat, pleading Jazen and the rest of the children's case for leniency. Sarela and the Mandalorian had left the boy in the hands of the city guards who were to escort him to the Mayor's Mansion before departing themselves so Sarela could tend to her wound.

They entered the spaceport, the noise and bustle of the streets not reaching inside the docking bay. To most people, the Razor Crest looked like a big piece of space junk to most who encountered it, especially Sarela when she first laid her eyes on it.

She raised a brow at the sight in front of her, "What is this piece of junk?" she asked, clutching her injured arm.

The Mandalorian turned his head ever so slightly, "My ship," he responded dryly, before walking up the ramp.

She let out a half snicker, "Delightful," she commented, following behind him.

Sarela glanced around the cramped, dimly lit cargo bay, that held boxes filled with spare parts, emergency food supplies, and other cargo crates. It was untidy, in her opinion, she had definitely seen and piloted better ships in her time.

"Cozy home you have here," she remarked, still looking around, her eyes landing on the door of what looked like a smaller compartment.

"Sorry it doesn't meet the high standards you're accustomed to," he stated sarcastically, while searching through the ship's shelves.

Sarela chuckled lightly as she plopped down onto a crate, "Oh how I do miss my ship," she admitted wistfully. "It was equipped with the latest technology of the time," she remembered, removing her bloodied hand from her arm.

The Mandalorian turned around holding a medpac in his hands and walked over to her, taking a seat beside her on a nearby crate.

"You're gonna have to remove your shirt if I'm going to clean that wound," he stated, opening the kit.

Sarela placed her hand on her chest in faux shock, "Mando, buy me dinner first at least," Sarela quipped, a playful smile stretched upon her lips.

"T-That's not what I meant," he replied quickly, and Sarela just smirked as she slipped her arm out her shirt, proud that she made the warrior in front of her flustered.

Pulling at the tips of his gloves, the Mandalorian removed the thick covering from his hands, revealing the tanned skin underneath.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Is that allowed?" she asked, a hint of teasing in her voice. "Do I need to avert my eyes to preserve your creed?" she questioned, enjoying the fact that she was getting underneath his skin.

"No," the Mandalorian answered, his voice tight, clearly not appreciating that she was poking fun at his religion. "And you know that," he added, staring at her through his visor. "Do you want me to treat you or not?" he asked irritatedly.

She rolled her eyes, "Well of course I do," she answered, sticking her arm out and displaying the angry, red flesh.

He grabbed her outstretched arm, the rough pads of his fingers encircling her lower bicep. The Mandalorian took a damp cloth and dabbed it lightly at the sliced flesh, the two of them sitting in silence as she let her eyes wander. That was until her body automatically stiffened in pain due to the man next to her applying too much pressure as he wiped away the dried blood.

"Kriffin' hell!" she cursed, and the Mandalorian looked up from what he doing. "Be a bit more gentle will you?" she requested, in a snippy tone.

"You know this never would've happened if you didn't start that brawl," he pointed out, putting the cloth down.

"What was I supposed to do Mando?" she asked. "Let the scum hit me first?" she asked again, noticing that his hands slightly froze as he uncapped the bacta tub.

"How about maybe not antagonizing him," he suggested, spreading a light coat over her injury.

Sarela hissed at the cold painkilling gel interacting with her arm, "He was looking for a fight and I gave him one," she responded, staring over at the Mandalorian who remained focused on his work. "Him and his lackeys should be grateful I didn't kill them," she added, as he wiped his hands clean of the medicine.

He picked up a roll of bandages, "You say you left the Empire, but it seems it hasn't left you," he commented, winding the bandage around her bicep.

Sarela scoffed, "What the hell does that mean Mando?" she questioned, cocking her head to the side.

"Scum," he replied, echoing her words from earlier.

"Crix already believed the worst about me just from my accent alone," she stated, a chuckle escaping her. "Why not play into it?" she reasoned, slightly shrugging her shoulders and the Mandalorian looked up. "What?" she asked curiously. "Is that why you briefly tensed a few minutes ago? Because I used the word 'scum'?" she questioned, raising her brow. "Is it too close to 'rebel scum' for your liking?" she asked again, this time a small grin on her face.

"Every time you say it, I envision you in your Imperial uniform," the Mandalorian said, tying the bandage off.

"And what, that's makes you uncomfortable?" she inquired, with a chuckle as she inspected her dressing.

"Considering what you're side did in the war, would it be unreasonable?" he countered.

"Not everyone that served in the Empire is the boogieman the Republic makes us out to be, we're no different than them," Sarela said, shrugging her arm back into the shirt. "The Republic dirtied their hands in the war as well, as much as they don't want to admit it," she objected, adjusting her top. "I've seen the handiwork of their agents when their done dealing with their informants up close and personal," she explained, shaking her head.

Admittedly, Sarela herself would only be tracking down these informants to kill them as well, but at least she wasn't holding a 'holier than thou' attitude about what she was about to do or had done.

"Only one side blew up a planet, killings billions instantly,"

Sarela snapped her head in his direction, "You think I took pleasure in seeing Alderaan destroyed?" she asked, offended at his insinuation.

She could never forget the moment when she arrived in the Alderaan System. She had just returned from a mission and was on her way to Courscant, but decided to make a quick pit stop at Alderaan. But when Sarela dropped out of lightspeed, there was no Alderaan. Just a dark, empty space filled with millions of rocks. All she could do was stare out the window of her ship, a frown lining her forehead.

"What the kriff?" she thought.

"I was confused as you could imagine," she continued, snapping out of her memory. "I was in the system where Alderaan was, but yet no Alderaan," she stated, slightly throwing one hand up. "I thought my navicomputer was malfunctioning or something," she added, her lips forming a thin line.

Sarela had checked her systems, but it wasn't broken at all. How she wished it was though.

"When did you realize what happened?" the Mandalorian questioned.

"I received a call from a friend who was Alderaanian, an agent like me. When I answered, he was hysterical," she answered. "There were tears and snot running down his face, it was hard to understand what he was saying because of his sobbing," she went on, gesturing to her face. "Maker, they were heart wrenching to hear," she recalled, shaking her head again. "He told me he was speaking with his family by the HoloNet and then suddenly the call was disconnected. He tried calling them back multiple times, but to no avail. That's when his superior told him what happened,"

"Alderaan had been destroyed," the Mandalorian surmised, and she nodded.

The realization of the sight that Sarela was staring at were shards of Alderaan had struck her to the core. She would never get to see Alderaan's magnificent landscapes again. She would never see the greenery again. Or the snow, or the castle or anything again. Sarela had close family friends that lived on Alderaan and they were dead because of the Empire that she served.

"Alderaan, and all its art, literature, plants, creatures, and the greatest loss of all. Its people, were gone," Sarela breathed, her voice holding a hint of longing. "I lost my godparents myself that day," she informed, folding her arms against her chest and looking down at the floor.

"And yet you remained loyal to the Empire," the Mandalorian replied, almost mockingly.

Sarela's head snapped up, "What I was going to do, defect?" she asked back sarcastically. "Unlike the Alderaanians who had just lost everything, I still had a family on Courscant," she reminded, pointing to herself. "You can't just leave Intelligence, Mando. Who knows what kind of torture my parents would have been subjected to if I defected like the Alderaanians in the Imperial Military," she finished, leaning back against the wall.

A hissing sound released behind Sarela's ear causing her to jump and spin around, only to face a tiny, green creature with its hand outstretched to grab her tunic. Instinctively, she pulled her blaster from its holster and aimed it at the strange alien.

"The hell is this thing?!" she demanded.

"Wait!" the Mandalorian shouted, nearly hurdling over the crates to get in between her and the creature. "The kid's with me," he informed, shielding the child with his body.

Sarela glanced behind him and at the child, it let out an innocent coo as it stared up at her with its large eyes. It was such a small thing with its big ears sitting on top of its head. It was almost adorable. After a few seconds of tense silence, Sarela skillfully spun the blaster in her hand and tucked it back into the holster.

She lifted her finger in the green creature's direction, "This is the child you're taking care of?" she asked, staring at the Mandalorian.

"Yes,"

"You're kidding me," Sarela said dryly, staring at the messy crate that she assumed was the creature's bed. "A loner like you and this little one...can't be safe," she noted.

"It's not," he agreed, as the child watched the two humans with interest.

"Right..." she trailed off, her eyes scanning the interior again. "Jog my memory again Mando," Sarela requested. "You said you're being hunted down by guild bounty hunters, correct?" she questioned, her eyes finding their way back to the shiny helmet of the Mandalorian.

"That's right," he confirmed, taking a slight step forward.

Although Sarela couldn't see his eyes, she knew they were boring straight through her as the Mandalorian tried to figure out where her line of questions were leading.

"And it's because of this child?" she asked again, pointing at the child once more.

The child turned its head to the Mandalorian.

"Yes,"

"Who was the client?"

The question hung in the air for a few seconds, but within the blink of an eye, both of them had their blasters aimed at each other.

"You never really left the Empire did you?" the Mandalorian asked accusingly.

"You think the Empire would plant an agent on this backwater of a planet, in hopes of potentially coming into a contact with you?" she challenged incredulously. "More importantly, you're on the run from the Empire!" she exclaimed. "Maker, I should've never gotten entangled with you. I don't need a bigger target on my head,"

There was a long uncomfortable pause, the Mandalorian's helmet was facing in her direction, not saying a word. It bothered her that she couldn't see where his eyes were actually looking. It left Sarela feeling nervous, an emotion that she rarely experienced. The Mandalorian finally lowered his blaster and relaxed slightly.

"You're too jumpy Mando," she commented, lowering her arm as well. "Have you never worked with someone who's ex-Empire?" she questioned.

"I have,"

"And how did that go?"

"I ended up locking him up in a prison cell,"

"Oh..." Sarela replied. "How encouraging,"

[questionsonislam]

Is it permissible to make tawassul while praying and asking the help of awliya of Allah?

Seeking assistance is something and wasila (tawassul) is something else. Seeking assistance means asking for help. Wasila (tawassul) is a means to the end.

It is not permissible to ask for help from non-living things or a creature without intelligence even if it has a lot of service like the sun or the moon, even if it is holy like the Kaaba and the Black Stone (Hajar al-Aswad).

As for asking for help from people with intelligence, if the person is not a believer and a person with good deeds, it is not permissible to ask for help from him whether he is present or not. However, if he is a person with good deeds it is permissible to ask for help from him in order to ask intercession (shafa’ah), whether in his presence or near his grave.

Although the dead person has gone to the world of barzakh (veil), he has a kind of life peculiar to him. Our Prophet (PBUH) stated the following: "Prophets are alive in their graves." (Ibn Majah, Janaiz 65) Another evidence that prophets are alive in their graves is that Hazrat Prophet (pbuh) met the spirits of all of the prophets in Masjid al-Aqsa and greeted every prophet he met and those prophets replied his greeting. He also said the following about the polytheists who died during the Battle of Badr: "You cannot hear more than those; but they cannot answer.”

According to the people of tariqah (religious order) today, the help of a wali (saint) with a rank, whether he is dead or far away, can be asked for. He has the authority to help. Especially the people of tasarruf (authorized to do extraordinary things) can help both when they are alive and after they die; their help goes on.

As for wasila, as we have just mentiond, it is something to be used as a means to reach the end. There are some kinds of wasila:

1- To use the names of Allah for tawassul: Ibn Majah narrated the following from Hazrat Aisha: ‘The Prophet said the following in a supplication, " O Allah, I ask from you for the sake of your clean, nice and holy name"’

2- To make the supplication of the person as a wasila for whom tawassul is asked.

3- To make tawassul by using the personality of a great man with good deeds as an intermediary. For instance, to say something like ‘O Allah! I make the Prophet or Hazrat Abu Bakr a wasila in order to realize this wish of mine. Hazrat Umar made Hazrat Abbas (the Prophet’s uncle) a wasila in the supplication for rain by saying: “O Allah! We make the Prophet’s uncle a wasila, send us rain." (Bukhari).

4- To make tawassul by using the good deeds as an intermediary: For instance, to say something like “O Allah! I make this hajj or worship that I performed for you a wasila; relieve me of this misfortune or trouble”.

The kinds of wasila we listed above are present in Islam. It is not possible to deny them. The person to be made a wasila does not necessarily have to be superior to the person making tawassul. The Prophet (PBUH) said to Hazrat Umar, who wanted permission to go and make umrah, “Brother! Do not forget to pray for us”. He also ordered Hazrat Umar to tell Uways al-Qarani to pray for him. However, to imagine the prophet or any person independently and ask his help may cause a person to become an unbeliever. One should be careful about it. That is, it is permissible to think and to know that that person is a beloved slave of Allah and he does those things by the permission of Allah and to ask.

According to Ahlu Sunnah scholars, it is permissible to make tawassul as long as one does not go beyond it.

Those who regard wasila as completely haram are kharijites and and those who imitate them.

The information that angels protect people is present in the Quran itself: “For each (such person) there are (angels) in succession, before and behind him: they guard him by command of Allah”(ar-Rad, 13/11). That truth is pointed out in the verse.

The protection of the angels is not polytheism, similarly, the help and protection of other creatures should not be polytheism. However, we should not raise them from the level of being a means, a cause to the level of creation. It is a necessity of our belief that “there is no real creator other than Allah in the universe.”

Is there mediation, wasila in religion?

Wisdom is one of the indispensable elements of life and success; it is also a leaven and an important law in the management and control of all of the beings.

Men make achievements and maintain them by observing that rule and principle called wisdom.

Wisdom makes cause, means, wasila necessary between the Creator and the creatures.

The loftiness and greatness of the creator, the relationship and the balance among the beings are related to wisdom. In addition, the fact that beings serve as proof to their creator, the fact that they are searched and studied like a book by qualified people, and the most important of all, the fact that men are tested and tried for their achievements in the world and in the hereafter, depend on wisdom and a serious relationship with wisdom.

Men who have been given wisdom are the most honorable and valuable beings.

Based on this principle, the general term denoting the phenomenon of relationship between beings, things, man and the creator is wisdom.

In the connections between non-living things and living things,

in the veils between being created and creating,

in the causes between illness and health,

in slavery and its consequences,

in the relationship between conveying the message and guidance.

in the consequences and relationships of agriculture, trade, art and worship, wisdom is essential; and the causes, wasilas and means are the prerequisites of wisdom and they will always be present naturally.

Here, although the existence of means is necessary in terms of wisdom due to divine power and greatness, the oneness and majesty of Allah eliminates their effects. Wisdom necessitates that they remain only as means.

So, means are an essential of creation due to Allah’s name, the Wise.

So, the means like those are existent and necessary in our religion naturally.

For instance, the means of hidayah (guidance) are prophets.

The means of Allah’s orders to His prophets are the angels.

The means of pre-eternal speech are the Books and Pages.

The means of manifestations are miracles and arts.

The means of forgiveness and reward are bounties and Paradise.

The means of suffering and punishment are measures and Hell.

The means of worshipping and slavery are worships.

The means of approaching Allah are knowledge and taqwa (piety).

So, there is no place, state and time without means.

The most important point of the things that we have mentioned so far is as follows: Those means should not be something more than a wasila; they should be transparent and decent; they should not hide and cover the realities; in particular, they should strengthen not break the relationship between the slave and Allah.

If the means that exist between the realities and the people as a necessity of wisdom become dense and break the connection, then wisdom disappears and obstacles emerge. The means loses its property of being a means.

For instance, if a teacher enters between a mathematics book and the students, he integrates the students with the book. He increases the love. He also strengthens knowledge. Teachers form a great amount as means.

Artists are means of transferring the skill between the apprentices and art. Otherwise the arts and skills would cease and die.

Similarly, great religious people are transparent means to ensure and maintain the relationship between Allah and the slave. If they stop acting as intermediaries, the slave will spoil the relationship and break the connection.

However, being an intermediary is not something easy. The most important thing is to be capable and qualified.

That is, a teacher should act as an intermediary between the mathematics book and the student. However, if the teacher is a music teacher, it won’t do any good.

A doctor, who is a transparent means, should act as an intermediary between the patient and the illness in terms of wisdom. However, if an engineer instead of a doctor acts as an intermediary, he will only serve the angel of death.

Glasses become intermediaries between the eyes and things. Hearing aids become intermediaries between the ears and the sounds. As intermediaries, they serve those with ordinary eyes and ears to see and hear better.

Similarly, if qualified and capable people become intermediaries between the realities and ordinary people, they increase those people’s knowledge and virtues. Their spiritual lives become orderly and tidy. Ordinary people cannot see the naked realities and cannot perceive them. They can understand the realities only through some means.

The similes, metaphor and usual examples in the Quran are holy and transparent means like eyeglasses or binoculars between men and the realities that are difficult to perceive.

Therefore, to deny the means (wasila) means to deny wisdom, help, benefit, order, goodness and affair. It is an attitude contrary to creation and reality.

However, as there are always exceptions and misuse, the means deteriorated and misused in time; and bad examples reached present time. While it is necessary to correct, put into order and change them, it will be consciencelessness to wear mediation down and to deny it wholly and radically.

It will be a great mistake to prefer its demolition although it is possible to correct it.

So, mediation is a divine approbation that establishes the connection with reality like transparent glass, and that puts the relationships in order.

As it is present everywhere, there is and will be mediation in our religion. However, intermediaries that are very dense like priesthood, that confine the interest and respect only to themselves and break the relationship with Allah are a kind of hidden polytheism. Mediation like that does not exist in man’s nature and creation; it does not and cannot exist in our religion.

To see the means from the point of view of the evaluations above will protect us from excessiveness and negligence in terms of thoughts and attitudes, will drive all of our feelings and thoughts to the medium way, will provide our life with direction, peace and happiness.

[chicagocityofclans]

Greer Finley → Elena Satine → Ocelot

→ Basic Information

Age: 51

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Straight

Birthday: March 30

Zodiac Sign: Aries

Religion: Animism

→ His/Her Personality Greer spent her whole life with Chris’s pack, becoming fiercely independent and ferocious enough to be deemed worthy second in command by Chris. She can be perceived as the most aggressive pack member but only because she fears failure and abandonment. She’ll never show anyone besides her closest friends her weaknesses or the softer side to her. Greer, like most of her pack, is highly intelligent and observant. She enjoys playing the mouse and cat game with nearly every species when boredom hits. This can cause problems with some members of the supernatural community, especially in her position as second, but many enjoy the battle of wits.

Greer can be quite intense and passionate about the things that she believes in. She’s incredibly stubborn and doesn’t like being told that she’s wrong even if she is. She doesn’t take criticism nor compliments very well since she doesn’t trust people's intentions. Although Greer loves teaching, spending time with her pack and family; she has found her desire to be alone getting stronger. Many times she doesn’t feel that she can truly let her guard down and process everything from her day until she is alone.

→ His/Her Personal Facts

Occupation: Pack 2nd and Math Teacher

Scars: A long scar that she never chose to heal fully from a hunting accident.

Tattoos: None

Two Likes: Napping and Hunting

Two Dislikes: Cameron and Arbitrary rules

Two Fears: Abandonment and Failure

Two Hobbies: Theoretical physics and Strategy board games

Three Positive Traits: Independent, Powerful, and Loyal

Three Negative Traits: Abrasive, Inflexible, and Temperamental

→ His/Her Connections

Parent Names:

Dolan Finley (Birth Father): Dolan abandoned Greer when she was about 2 weeks old. He hasn’t been heard from since, though rumors are that Chris and Tatiana made sure that happened.

Orla Finley (Birth Mother): Orla died in childbirth.

Chris Bialar (Adopted Father): Greer is incredibly close with Chris. She loves him more than she’s ever actually said and always wished he was her birth father. They’ve had a few rough patches, but it never lasts long.

Tatiana Bialar (Adopted Mother): Greer loved Tatiana. She taught her everything about shifting and started her love for math. Greer was heartbroken when Tatiana died and has remained detached from most of the other older women in the clan because she thought she’d lose them too.

Sibling Names:

Carter Bialar (Adopted Brother): Greer hated him for the first 2 years of his life, but they’ve been inseparable ever since. She’s his “cool older sister” and Greer takes that job very seriously and is ferociously protective over him.

Children Names:

None

Romantic Connections:

Cameron Kuhl (Ex-Husband and Mate): He left her with no real reason after almost 30 years together. She hasn’t hated anyone more than him, ever. If she saw him again, he’d be dead.

Joshua Lonewolf (Interest/Friend): She’s sworn off dating, but he has almost as much baggage as her. She thinks she gets where he’s coming from.

Platonic Connections:

Noel Crais (Best Friend/Platonic Soulmate): Noel has been there for Greer every step of the way. She’s incredibly strong, and kind, and powerful; and Greer thinks they were fated to be by one anothers side, through husbands and mates and all the other unreliables in life.

Lillian Pickford (Good Friend): Lillian is probably the only non-cat that Greer considers a true friend. They have taken multiple kickboxing classes together, and she is a great sounding board, especially when it comes to venting about Cameron. She also handles the paperwork for Pathera, which gives them another reason to see each other.

Ellis Watts (Friendly): Ellis is the easiest Jackal to deal with out of the top three. He agrees with most ideas she has, and is blunt about the ones he dislikes. He’s clear and simple, and they communicate in similar ways.

Roy Allen (Pack Mate): Roy has been an incredible person to vent to through all of this. They’re somewhat regular smoke buddies and they’ve talked about a whole lot of things. Greer is a big supporter of him and Noel, though he denies it when she brings it up.

Chris Shaw (Acquaintance): Greer knows that Chris has a thing for her, but she’s also heard of his reputation and is more than a little weary of it. She’s also not the biggest fan of kids.

Zack Harris (Possible business partner): Zack approached the cats to create a university together. So far everyone is playing nice.

Hostile

Isla Johns (Aggravation): She’s had to listen to Isla suck up to the other 3rds and 2nds for too long at a meeting and nearly lost it. She always needs a white knight, and Greer thinks she’s an idiot for believing so.

James Stone (Hates): He’s spilled his Americano on her 3 separate times. The 3rd time Greer attempted to go after him, but was stopped by Miles and Malia.

Sarah Harris (Dislike): The one Jackal that Greer can not stand is Sarah Harris. They get into spats every time they talk, and Sarah now goes above her to get things approved on the University project.

Pets:

Strays (Cats): The cats have an open door policy with most of the strays near them. They feed them, and pet them, sometimes even let them run alongside them, but they know you can’t own an animal. It’s just not right to them.

→ History Greer was brought into the pack as a baby by her recently widowed father. Her mother died in childbirth, and her father was lost, unsure of how to raise a baby on his own. He stumbled across Chris’s pack and was quickly accepted in. However a few days in, Tatiana and Chris found a screaming Greer, in the room shared by her and her father, alone. A note tucked on the side of her explained that her father knew he couldn’t raise her, so he left her. After that Greer was adopted by Tatiana and Chris and the rest of the clan. She was about 12 when Carter was born and Tatiana passed away in childbirth. Greer shut down for almost a year; first her birth mother died and then her real one. She resented the baby for the first two years, often hiding or storming off to steal the attention from him. It was only when she was about 14 that she realized her attitude wasn’t what Tatiana would have wanted, and decided she would become Carter’s protector to make up for it.

About 15 years ago, Chris made Greer his second after his brother left for Africa. She’d been pestering him for years until he surprised her with it. The first time she actually left Chicago was to go to Stanford. She studied Mathematics, always knowing she’d go back to teach in her pack when she was done. But then she met Cameron. A panther shifter from Malibu whom she fell for hard and fast. She convinced him to come with her to Chicago and they mated their senior year. They spent nearly three decades together, until last year when he left without anything but a note. She holds a lot of pain from her own father abandoning her, and all the issues she thought she laid to rest came back ten times as strong.

→ The Present Greer is currently trying to get over what happened with Cameron. She’s gone through every stage of grieving, more than twice, and she’s settled currently in anger again. Her clan has been incredibly supportive, and she’s learning to rely on people again. Carter has been a massive support to her, as has Noel and Chris. She’s begun to pour all of herself into the clan, trying to block out any pain with work. Noel has pushed her to try and start going out at night. Not necessarily trying to date, but letting herself meet people. While she hasn’t gotten to that point, she has started talking to Josh. When he’d first arrived at the pack, Greer had voted against letting him stay. His past was murky and unclear and he didn’t have as outgoing of a personality as she was accustomed to. She was outvoted and he stayed. It wasn’t until after Cameron had left her that they’d begun talking. He’d said he’d been through something like her, and it’d get ok again. Greer didn’t believe him, but she started spending most of her lunches at the library.

Currently Greer, Noel, and Chris are in discussions with the Jackals to create a university catered especially to the supernatural community. Zack Harris brought the idea to them a few months ago and they’re hoping to start looking for locations soon. Greer is quietly optimistic to see what this new venture could bring to the city.