#yeah he saw them there months ago. it's your fault you have zero situational awareness lovie

[shotmrmiller]

(secret lovers but simon will not be kept a secret.)

you hadn't liked him from the get go. amongst the regulars that frequent the place you work at serving drinks, had been him; a burly, massive figure that commanded attention even though his clothes were nondescript and blended into the shadows created by the sickly, flickering lights overhead. his broad shoulders were squared, imposing, the fabric of his faded jeans stretched taut over his knees, tapering down to his scuffed sneakers.

him appearing a menace isn't what made him stand out. it doesn't even make him special, to be honest. one too many rowdy oafs call this hole in the wall a haven, seeking solace at the bottom of a thick glass.

it's the very air around him. it's heavy, muted, as if absorbing sound and movement. that one time you had the displeasure of personally handing him an beer, it'd felt suffocating, pressed down on you, made it hard to breathe. the stillness had been almost palpable, the usual hum of the bar nought but a distant buzz, even the clank of the chilled glass on the table had seemed muffled.

you'd felt the drink slosh over the rim in your haste to get away, retreat, escape. he hadn't even glanced your way and you'd been overwhelmed.

fucking hell.

and that's not the worst of it. the way he looks at people is unsettling. his beady eyes glint with a manic, rabid hunger, fixated on any bare legs that come into his field of view, as if he sees nothing but prey. that turns the discomfort that pricks at your skin into disgust.

revolting bull of a man is a pervert to boot.

(sometimes he comes in with others, 3 much more approachable, charismatic men that pop that personal bubble of oppressive silence he brings with him with their boisterous laughter and lively chatter. they're good folk except for when they want to act like your eyes are on your chest.)

so it's a true shame you spent weeks snarking about how foul he is when he's one of the best lays you've ever had in your life. (and continues to be.)

it's all discreet, of course. you can't be caught having a thing with the man you'd cursed up, down and sideways because he wouldn't stop staring at the tits you let him come on that same week.

you wouldn't even know how to explain how all of this started. that'd he'd been a surprised you and strong armed a belligerent drunk off the property for you a while back? that he'd happened to be around when your car got a flat, pulled out a jack from the bed of his truck and told you to sit your 'pretty arse' inside while he changed it? or that after the nth night of him being the very last patron, you realized he'd only leave after you were done with restocking and ready to close up shop?

you kept it all of it on the down low. pretended you couldn't feel his eyes on you, boring holes into the side of your head while at work then garble out his name through the fingers you're drooling over after work.

and it stayed that way for a while. he never stayed longer than you let him (not like that meant anything, he barely let you out the bed to pick up the door dash before he sat you on the countertop and lapped at your sore cunt until you came.)

he rarely used his phone so there was no worry about sudden texts while you had friends around.

it seemed a fine thing at the time. but then he started sitting at the bar top instead of his usual corner haunt, occasionally calling you over with a curl of his fingers (the ones he had you lick clean last night.) he stopped being a total lech, keeping his eyes glued onto you and you only, being so blatant about it that your co-workers offered to walk you to your car later.

embarrassing. you'd meant to give him a talk about laying off the intensity of his stare but it slipped your mind when he slipped into you from behind while fisting your hair.

when your boss is the one that gives you the stranger danger talk, even though you have said strangers love bites mottling the junction of your shoulder, you decide that enough is enough. so after your shift, you ask to speak with him.

only to have him snort in your face.

"don't think so."

before you get to say anything else, he's sitting you on the hood of his truck, legs hooked over his shoulders, eye level with your bare pussy because he'd stuffed your knickers into his pocket before work.

the first glide of his tongue between your folds is deliberately slow, tip catching the bundle of nerves at the top. your palm stings from digging your nails into it.

the second sends a shiver licking up your spine, his hands dimpling the soft of your thighs to keep you from squirming.

"look at me."

your body reacts instinctively at the low, grating tone of his voice and you're peering down at him before your mind can even catch up.

he nips at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. "best get used to 'avin' me 'round." this was no conversation.

the tips of his fingers grazing over your wet heat, gently prodding the entrance. when he sinks them in, scissoring, thrusting, you realize he's not going to let you come.

this isn't a reward. this is about to be your punishment.

slick glistens on his knuckles under the streetlight as he undoes the zipper of his jeans, the sound of the metal teeth deafening in your prickling ears.

simon puts his hand close to your mouth like he's done in the bedroom, and you spit on it, like you've done in the bedroom.

the searing (but oh so good) burn is both familiar and not when you take him to the root, a shuddering breath escaping your quivering lips at the sensation of him filling you until the seams feel like they're becoming undone.

he lowers his head to nose your sweat-slick temple, large hands flat by your sides. his breaths warm your throat as he speaks.

"i won't be your dirty little secret, pet."

a hand creeps up to the nape of your neck, claiming a fistful of hair. simon pulls a sibilant hiss from you when he tugs hard enough to ache.

ouch.

"can't shove me in a closet and pocket the key." he rolls his hips once, twice before widening his stance.

oh.

oh no.

"now be good and let me take what's mine."

there'd been no arguing with him before he fucked you in earnest, and certainly not after when he takes you home, spend dripping onto his seat on the way there, where he makes you ride him on the driveway, only letting you go inside once he felt he got his message across.

(message understood.)

the next morning you wake to sore thighs, a throbbing pussy, a dry mouth and a text from your boss.

i've got cameras outside the place, by the way. go home next time.

at least you didn't get fired 🥴

[junggoku]

(Don’t) Say My Name - Ethan Ramsey x f!MC

book: Open Heart

pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!MC (Nina Valentine)

word count: 2,513

summary: No, Nina did not think she was working too much. No, she is not that tired. No, she is fine. Really. She’s fine. (*narrator voice* She was not, in fact, fine)

A/N: Okay guys, just take this. I have no idea what this is, but I made a promise to get this out there and I finally finished it. I’ve been working on this for about a month now and honestly, I’m kinda proud of it. I’m proud that I managed to finish it at least. HELLO MY DEBUT AS A FANFIC WRITER MUAHA. Jk, but seriously. Enjoy! Also, let me know if you wanna be added to my tagslist? I’m not sure if I’m gonna write often but I figured I should throw it out there anyway.

Rainy weather always brought with it a certain restlessness in the air. There was something about the rain that made her lose focus, distracted as it falls and showers the earth. With her head resting in her hand, her attention was directed towards the windows in the cafeteria, watching as raindrops patter and hit the side of the glass. Her eyes tracked the movement of one particular drop, following as it slid down the smooth surface until it disappeared over the edge. 

Dr. Nina Valentine leaned back in her chair with a sigh, taking her elbow off the table and turning to witness the smattering of doctors and nurses inside the cafeteria at this hour. It was later in the afternoon at Edenbrook and she had been pouring over a patient file in an attempt to distract herself from the bone-aching exhaustion seeping in from working 48 hours straight. In between putting her five hours at the free clinic earlier, studying up on diseases for the diagnostics team, and checking up on her regular patients, Nina was about two breaths away from falling asleep atop her file on one Ms. Rebecca Pope.

With a scrape of her chair, she pushed her hands on the table and stood up, gathering all her materials and drifting back out into the hallways of a bustling hospital. Making her way over to one of the nurses’ stations where a small collection of interns had congregated, Nina noticed the head of her own intern standing on to the side alone, brows furrowed as she focused intensely on a patient’s chart. 

“Anything interesting on there, Ortega?” 

With a start, Esme looked up, her eyes wide for a split second before schooling her features. 

“Not particularly, no,” Huffing, the intern lowered the chart, fixing her eyes on Nina. As the resident reached the counter of the station and set her stuff down, she could feel Esme’s gaze sticking, and glanced up at her intern, an eyebrow raised in question. 

“What?” 

“You look like the walking dead,” Esme states flatly, zeroing in on the deep circles under Nina’s eyes, purplish bruises broadcasting to everyone exactly how many hours of sleep she got—or did not get—in the past couple of days. 

“Gee, thanks. Mind you, I think it’s a great look for me,” 

“No, seriously. You look like you’re about to fall over. Do all residents sport eyebags like that or is that just a you thing?” 

Rolling her eyes, Nina doesn’t respond as she turns her attention back to some paperwork on the desk. Esme sidles up, and steals a quick glance down at the files and journals Nina had placed on the counter. “Stuff for the diagnostics team?” 

“Yeah. Gotta turn myself into a walking disease encyclopedia if I’m gonna be able to do my job,” Nina sighs as Esme pulls out an article on gastrointestinal viruses, ignoring the group of interns that was still hovering nearby, a couple of them glancing over at them curiously. The last few hours are starting to get to her as Nina feels herself slipping a fraction, her eyelids growing heavier as she stands. Her workload had grown significantly, something that she already knew and expected, and while it was challenging to keep up with, thinking about the patients she can help—can still help for who knows how much longer—kept her moving. 

Esme flips through some of the pages in the article, “Man, seriously. How do you do it? I’m getting second hand exhaustion just from looking at this.”

The corners of her mouth quirked as she allowed herself to take a breath. “I’m not sure I’m even really doing it.”

It’s getting harder to focus. She’s been putting off sleep so often these days that she knows she’s not going to be able to stand upright for much longer, but she couldn’t afford to. Edenbrook’s situation loomed in her mind so much recently it was hard for her to sleep without thinking about all the patients she could still help if she was at the hospital. 

Preparing to head back to check on another one of her patients, Nina started to turn around. She miscalculated though, moving too fast. Esme’s voice rang out in mild alarm, “Hey-”

It all faded to black.

----

“Is she gonna be okay?” Sienna glanced over at Nina, eyebrows furrowed in worry. Her friend was snuggled up in what looked like three layers of blankets, an almost blissful expression on her face. The light sleep medication was setting in, Nina’s nerves stilled and numbed. Sienna knew her friend had been working late hours and forgoing sleep more often lately, but didn’t notice just how much of a toll it had taken until Nina collapsed, head burning with a high fever. 

“She’ll be alright. She’s still running a bit high in body temperature, but with some rest she should be good as new.”    

With that the doctor walked out, leaving the residents as they all peered at their friend, now snoring lightly without a care in the world. Jackie shook her head, a strand of hair falling into her eyes, “I should’ve noticed. That kid we babysat a few weeks ago saw it right away and even then I didn’t pay attention.” 

“Not your fault. We all should’ve said something. We know how she gets about patients,” Bryce sighed. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this right now anyways. Let’s go and let her sleep,” Casting one more concerned glance at Nina, Elijah slowly wheeled out of the room, the others trailing closely behind. A soft click of the door closing and the world was bathed in quiet once more. 

The air settled, a strip of the moonlight trickled in and Nina opened her eyes, releasing a breath, and tilting her head to look out the slits in the window. 

Raising a hand to her forehead, she continued peering out, a small frown crossing her soft features. Stupid. How stupid of her to end up passing out. And from not getting enough sleep? This was the last thing she needed. Feeling annoyed at herself, the brunette huffed and closed her eyes again. The sooner she rested, the quicker she could get back to her patients. 

Admittedly, being in a bed again felt nice. Good for her neck at least, to not have to nap on the stiff boards in the on-call room. Allowing the numbness from the medications to kick in, she willed herself to fall asleep and relaxed her muscles. It was pleasant, to be honest. Letting her nerves and senses be dulled for once. It’s been ages since she was able to shut down her brain. Everything had been in hyperfocus mode in the past month. 

She needs to be better if she’s going to be helping anyone, if she’s going to save Edenbrook. Her sluggish thoughts are interrupted though, as the sound of the door click signaled a new arrival in her room. Assuming it was one of the nurses, Marlene, coming to check on her, Nina kept her tired eyes shut, “Mar-”

“Nina.”

A pause. It’s in moments like these where Nina swears the world slows down just a little, everything suspended as time lulls for a brief second, like an intake of breath. And while her mother always told her she was a bit dramatic and a bit of a romantic, Nina would argue that she never felt these kinds of sensations, had these kinds of moments and these thoughts before in her life. Not quite in this way. Not until she came to Edenbrook. Not until him. 

Even in her befuddled state, she realized how sappy she sounded in her head. The meds must be getting to me. In this condition, she might have been a little too honest. 

The way he said her name created a throb in her chest, bringing up an emotion she refused to acknowledge at the moment. Still, she was aware enough to hear something else in his voice. Try as he might to control it, there was a hint of anger there.

“Ah. Dr. Ramsey. To what...” Another pause, “...do I owe the pleasure?” Cracking open her eyes, Nina found the tall figure of Ethan Ramsey by the door, his arms crossed over his chest, face carefully blank. 

Even in the low lighting of the room, Nina could see him scanning up and down her frame to make sure she was alright. Ice blue eyes finally connected with warm brown ones and she willed herself not to look away. That bothersome part of her mind started to tickle, but she quickly opted to ignore it. 

“I was told you fainted and landed yourself here from exhaustion. Why didn’t you say anything?” 

The junior fellow broke eye contact, staring straight ahead at the potted plant on the dresser across from her bed. “I just...it didn’t really matter. I was fine.”

“Clearly, you were not fine, since you’re now lying here in a hospital room.” Voice rising, Ethan crossed the rest of the way over, coming to stand right beside her bed. “If your workload was too much, you should’ve spoken up about it. I understand you wanted to keep working, but you’re not helping anyone in your state right n-”” 

“You nag too much, Dr. Ramsey.”

“...Excuse me?” 

Rolling her eyes up all the way to the ceiling, Nina turned her head towards the window again and tried to drown out the deep facets of his voice. “I passed out from being too sleepy and the first thing you do when seeing me is to nag. How sweet of you.” She was growing frustrated for some reason, the medication making it difficult for her to control her emotions now. Would it kill him to be honest for once? 

Ethan’s mouth was opened to respond, but she didn’t let him, her words spilling out. “You always know just what to say. Really. It’s very cute of you. Are you a pine tree? Cause you’re just full of sap, aren’t you,” 

A moment of silence as Ethan waited for her to finish.   

“...That’s a maple tree.”

“Oh,” The brunette frowned. Was it? She really needed to sleep soon. 

They descended into another bout of awkward silence. Glancing back at her boss, she found him peering down at the ground, scratching the back of his neck. In a quiet voice he broke the silence, “I’m sorry.” 

Deflated, the junior fellow shook her head slowly. “No. I’m sorry. I got mad for no reason. Thanks for coming to check on me.” Being around him always made her feel a multitude of emotions, but it was worse in her current situation. She didn’t have her usual self-control nor her filter and the fuzziness creeping at the back of her head told her she wasn’t going to actually remember this conversation the following morning. ‘Least I won’t remember calling him a pine tree like a dumbass. 

Eyes softening a fraction, Ethan spoke again, voice pleasantly gentle this time, “When I heard you collapsed all of a sudden, I was...it was concerning to say the least.” His hand came up to her forehead, lightly brushing away her bangs. His fingers were cool and felt pleasant against the warmth of her skin. Staring up at him, the soft stream of the moonlight accentuated his sharp, handsome features, and her heart stuttered again. 

The furrow in between his eyebrows was irritating her. She hated when he made that face. Like he was disappointed in himself. For not having caught on sooner. As if any of this was his fault.  

“I’m okay now though,” Fixing a smile that probably wasn’t all too convincing, Nina tried to reassure him. “And besides, this was on me. If I can’t handle it I’ll let you know next time. Alright?” Stop making that face. 

He didn’t say anything for a while, seemingly content to just gaze down at her, as though he were trying to find something. Sadly, the brunette wasn’t in any state to try deciphering it now. His fingers had moved lower, caressing her cheek softly. “I’m sorry again for raising my voice earlier. I guess I was just frustrated you weren’t looking after yourself. You make it very easy to nag at you.” 

Feeling slightly indignant at that, Nina pursed her lips into a small pout, but she quickly sagged again, too tired to reply in her usual spirit. Instead, she tried focusing on the feel of his fingers brushing on her skin. 

“It’s alright. Really. I’m sorry too. For snarking at you.”

“Mhmm. That was hurtful,” What looked like amusement lit up his eyes, a minute smirk playing at the corners of his lips, “You even tried calling me a maple tree.” 

“To be fair, you’re as prickly as a pine tree. So I guess it still works.”

Chuckling, Ethan shook his head a little, a quiet fondness crossing his expression as he watched the junior fellow’s eyes begin to droop. 

“I should let you get your rest. It’d be a waste if you didn’t use this time to catch up on sleep,” With that he began to move away, retracting his hand and Nina already missed it. “Goodnight, Nina.” He whispered. As Ethan began to turn around and take his leave, the brunette let the silence linger for a second before speaking up one more time, voice so soft she wasn’t sure he’d be able to hear, “Please don’t say it like that.” 

A pause. There were so many pauses tonight. 

“...What?” Bemused, Ethan spun back around. 

Nina avoided looking at him, keeping her eyes on the ceiling. “Whenever you say my name like that...it hurts.” He’d be able to pick up the rest of what she didn’t say. It hurts to hear you call my name like that. Like you’re saying everything and nothing all at once. Like it’s a wish you want desperately but can never grant. Like you lo-  She blinked, turning her head slightly to him.    

A deep sadness flashes across Ethan’s face, reflecting her own yearning back at her. He audibly released a breath, piecing together what he wants to say. What he can and should say. 

“Nina, I...” It’s always the same game between them. 

“...Yeah. I know.” 

With that, Nina adjusted herself to at last allow sleep to take over, pulling up her blankets to her chin and shutting her eyes a final time, “Goodnight, Ethan.” In her growing drowsiness, she could hear faint footsteps crossing back to her, but she didn’t open her eyes again, sleep quickly overtaking her senses. 

An undefined emotion tickled at the back of her head and her chest throbbed again. She already had an idea of what that feeling was. But tonight, she didn’t want to think about it. She wasn’t ready to give it its proper name. All she wanted tonight was to dream about blue eyes and low chuckles. In her dreams, she could feel a soft brush of her temple, the faintest touch of his lips. It’ll never really be enough, but tonight it was everything.

Fin.

tagslist: @openheart12​ @ethandaddyramsey​ @noboundariesplease​ @ethanramseysgirl​ @sekizincimektup​ @drethanramslay​    

[olliepig]

Centre Stage - chapter 4

A slightly different one this time - set during the events of the Long Reach, Cat’s left alone to wait.

As always with these, massive thanks are due to @willow-salix for her betaing skills, general cheerleading and without whom it’s entirely possible I would have deleted the entire thing and given up.

The whole thing is also available on AO3 here.

******************************

Cat rolled over with a groan, awake again for what felt like the twentieth time that night. She hadn’t slept properly since Scott had left to get the results of the final test of the newly named Zero XL, and three nights of broken sleep combined with a full rehearsal schedule meant that she was now at a point far beyond exhaustion.

In times of stress, her bedroom had always been her sanctuary, its dusty blue walls and cream furniture reminding her of the wide expanse of the sky and the sense of freedom it gave her when she was feeling overwhelmed by daily life. Now, it just made her think of Scott, and today, that was bringing her no comfort.  

Despite the lack of daylight creeping around the curtains, a quick glance at the small clock beside her bed told her that the night had passed and it was in fact now just about what could be considered morning, albeit much, much earlier than she would usually consider being awake.

With reflexes honed by too many nights spent waiting for news from the other side of the world, her first instinct was to reach out and grab for her phone, squinting as the harsh light of the screen hit her eyes. The sight of a message from Scott made her heart lurch, fear that it would contain the words that she had been both waiting for and dreading in equal measure spreading through her veins like ice.  

All go for launch. I’ll call when I’m back. xx

Dropping her phone beside her, Cat let out a groan and buried her face in the pillow while the wave of nausea that Scott’s words had triggered passed, the sensation triggering memories of the last time she had to say goodbye to him under similar circumstances.

That time, he was being sent off into a literal warzone and she had hoped afterwards that she would never again have to go through the worry of having someone she cared about in such a dangerous situation, but clearly the universe had other ideas. Now, not only was Scott going on the most ambitious and dangerous rescue mission that anyone had ever attempted, she couldn’t even talk to anyone about it as secrecy was absolutely paramount.

OK, that wasn’t strictly true, Cat reminded herself. Penny was on the island and had promised to keep her up to date with everything that was happening as soon as she heard it and that fact alone was an absolute godsend, but it was also her distance from the mission that was making her anxious. Even as a child she had never been content to depend on other people for things, preferring instead to go out and make them happen for herself, and so being reliant on others was not something that came easily to her. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust her best friend to keep her informed, far from it, but Penny was similarly emotionally invested in one of the other participants involved in the rescue and, if anything untoward happened, Cat feared that she would be too distraught to pass the message on.

It was this terror of not knowing that had kept her awake for the last three nights. Logically, she knew that she should be more scared of the physical and emotional risk that Scott was facing and the possible longer-term consequences of them both, but the reality was that she could barely fathom it all so, in order to maintain at least some level of sanity, she had chosen to stay focused on the few factors that she could have some modicum of control over.

So long as he came home, she had no doubts that they would be able to face whatever else had happened together. The alternative was something she was trying very hard to ignore.

Taking deep, calming breaths that stilled her racing mind for the time being, Cat lifted her head and glanced over to Scott’s side of the bed, suppressing a small smile at the fact that she already considered it his even though he’d only actually slept there overnight once. The rose he’d given her on his surprise visit to see her dance Swan Lake was dried and framed on the wall, and memories of that night made her smile widen before regret started to creep in, sending her mind spiralling back to that awful period afterwards where she wasn’t sure if she’d ruined everything between them for good.

Now that he was leaving on a rescue fraught with such danger, her heart ached at the knowledge that they could have had so much more time together if she had allowed herself to follow it that night and kissed him in the kitchen when she had the chance. At the very least, she’d have settled for having had enough time to go on what Scott would describe as a “proper” first date, but their busy lives had meant that even that hadn’t yet been possible. Instead, until he had arrived and poured his heart out to her three days previously, they had only had a single snatched night together in the two months since she had left the island.

It wasn’t enough.

No amount of time ever would be.

Cat rolled over with a groan and picked up her book, trying to distract herself from the almost unbearable ache for him that, regardless of the circumstances, was becoming an increasingly common feature of her life but, almost immediately, her earlier regret began to mingle with apprehension for what Scott was about to face. He’d been upbeat when they had spoken the previous night, the doubts and fears that he’d let her see only days before safely locked away again now that the hour was near, but this hadn’t been enough to convince her that they weren’t still there, bubbling away under the surface. Having agreed not to talk again until he was back, she felt cut off and alone, the enforced lack of contact between them now almost unbearable.

Realising that she had read the same sentence at least five times without being any clearer as to what it said, she gave up and abandoned her book once more on her bedside table. She hauled herself out of bed, deciding that an early start and a session in the fitness suite before work might take her mind off things, at least until she had confirmation from Penny that the launch had been successful.  

As she went through the motions of her usual morning routine, she was pleased to find that she had been correct. Movement, albeit limited at the moment, had helped to clear her mind and she was already feeling a lot more positive about the day ahead. Although it was clear that her brain wasn’t quite firing on all cylinders as she carefully put her knife back in the fridge before throwing the butter in the sink to wash later.

A chime on her phone alerted her to a message just as she was gathering her things together to leave and she pounced on it, her hands shaking as she saw that it was from Penny.

They’ve not launched yet but should do in an hour. All in good spirits and are gathering in the lounge now. I’ll keep you informed of any further updates. x

Seeing first hand that their agreed upon system was working so far, relief flooded through her and she allowed herself a quick smile at her friend's formal style of messaging that hadn’t changed in all the years that they’d known each other. Letting the door slam shut behind her, Cat set off to start her working day, happy that at least one part of the load she was carrying had been lifted off her.

*****

“Wow, you look like shit! Everything OK?” Mark grinned, wandering over to take his place at the barre beside Cat for their morning class.

Looking up from her phone, Cat threw him a withering look, not dignifying him with an answer before going back to finish sending a message to Penny asking for an update.

Her time in the gym had done wonders for her state of mind, but by her calculations she should have had a message to confirm launch over an hour ago. The fact that one still hadn’t arrived meant that the nerves that she had worked so hard to rid herself of that morning had returned and were starting to become unbearable.

“OK, not the time, sorry,” he apologised, ignoring Maria, with whom Cat shared a dressing room and had been on the receiving end of her increasingly bad mood that morning, making frantic ‘stop talking’ gestures as he sat himself down next to Cat, slinging an arm around her shoulder. “What’s going on, honey? Your man out on another rescue?”

“Yeah, and it’s a really bloody dangerous one so I’d appreciate less smart-arse comments today, OK?” Cat snapped, knowing that she was pushing her friends away in her time of need but feeling so overwhelmed that she was unable to stop herself.

“Come here,” Mark insisted, pulling her into him in a one-armed hug where they sat. Smiling, he rolled his eyes at Maria as Cat rested her head on his shoulder, both of them knowing how badly Cat coped when she was not fully in control of things. “He’ll be OK, just you wait and see.”

Cat allowed herself a few moments to relax into him, closing her eyes and shutting out the unhelpful words that had been flooding her head, telling her that something was wrong. Mark’s silent support bolstered her reserves, calming her breathing and allowed her to think about getting through the day’s rehearsals, regardless of what was happening half a world away.

“I think that’s us about to start,” Maria informed them, jolting Cat back into awareness as Mark extracted himself and jumped to his feet beside her.

Unable to resist, she gave her phone one last look before chucking it into her bag with a huff of displeasure, as if it was the device's fault that she didn’t have a message back from Penny yet. Taking Mark’s outstretched hand gratefully, she hauled herself upright and pushed everything from her mind as the familiar movements of her daily warm-up began to slowly soothe her, calming her enough to believe that she would have a message back before the end of class.

In the short break between barre and centre practice, Cat took the opportunity to quickly check her phone again, convinced that this time there would be a message there.

“Any news?” asked Maria quietly, as they sat together, changing from the soft shoes they used for barre work into the pointe shoes that they needed for the remainder of the class.

“Nothing,” spat Cat, a hot flash of anger surging through her as she sent yet another message asking for an update.

Penny had been her constant support throughout her life, the one person who had never let her down, but now all her fears of being left in the dark were coming true, leaving her feeling abandoned and alone. She had trusted her to stick to her word and now she didn’t even know if they had departed safely.

Seeing the rest of the company beginning to gather again, Cat took a deep breath and dragged her attention back to class, trying to focus on the enchainements that were being given to them, but her mind was well and truly elsewhere.

Mistakes started to creep into her dancing as she struggled to concentrate, angering her even more. She had always prided herself on her ability to compartmentalise the different areas of her life and it was the first time that this strategy had completely failed, leaving her vulnerable to outside influences when she was in the one environment that had always been an escape for her.  

Frustration began to mix with self-consciousness as she heard her name whispered more than once, making her whip around and glare at whomever was talking. She never made that many mistakes in class, and she could feel everyone’s eyes on her as she lost concentration yet again, her cheeks burning as she stalked to the side of the studio to await the next exercise.

As soon as the class ended, Cat grabbed her belongings and fled without making eye contact or speaking to anyone, ignoring the questioning looks that were thrown her way as the company enjoyed a brief break before the day's rehearsals began in earnest. Usually, she was in the thick of it, relaxing in one of the communal areas outside the studios, but today she had no desire for company and made straight for the relative privacy of her dressing room, collapsing onto her seat with her head in her hands.  

She almost couldn’t bear to look at her phone, sure that she would still be no closer to knowing what was happening and had to resist the urge to throw it across the room when it turned out her hunch was correct. Images of the Zero XL exploding on the launch platform filled her head, making it spin as nausea washed over her for the second time that day.

Trying to ground herself, she grabbed her favourite picture of her and Scott from its place on her mirror, bursting into tears as soon as she saw their happy faces, laughing at something while they cuddled together on the beach on Tracy Island. Desolation that she may never get a chance to experience a day like that again flooded through her, leaving her breath hitching in her throat as she sobbed.

She knew deep down that she was jumping to conclusions without any proof whatsoever that anything untoward had even happened. But, if she was going to be able to get through the rest of the day she desperately needed the release of her tears so she didn’t fight them, letting them fall freely as she gasped for breath.

Hearing the door opening behind her, she quickly tucked the picture away, wiping her eyes as she turned to see Mark and Maria. Worry was etched on their faces as they descended upon her, wrapping her in their arms and holding her without a word until her breathing had calmed.

“You OK?” Mark asked gently as he extracted himself from the group hug and crouched down at her feet, reassured by the small nod that Cat gave in reply. “What’s happened?”

“Nothing,” Cat sniffed, suddenly finding eye contact very difficult to maintain, choosing instead to watch Maria dragging her chair from the other side of their shared dressing room so they could sit together in relative comfort.

“Well, with all due respect, it doesn’t look like nothing,” Mark pressed, forcing Cat’s attention back onto him, unwilling to let her get away with deflecting her focus onto someone else when something was so clearly affecting her.  

“Just leave it, Mark,” Cat snapped, this time holding his gaze defiantly, daring him to continue.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to talk to anyone about it. She knew herself well enough to know that she absolutely needed to, but she just didn’t know how to explain what she was going through without giving away information that she had sworn to keep secret. It was better to stay silent rather than risk it.

“Not gonna happen I’m afraid,” Mark continued, not looking away as he sensed her resolve wavering despite the challenge still present in her stare.

“And if he does, then I’ll be on your ass so you’re not getting out of this,” Maria added, giving Mark a nod of support before looking back at Cat. “You’ve been a total pain in the backside for days and now you’re crying in between rehearsals, so it’s obvious something’s going on. We just want to help but we can’t if you don’t tell us what’s happening.”

Looking between her friends, both watching her with concern in their eyes, Cat’s resolve crumbled, her need to talk outweighing everything else. She took a moment before answering, trying to collect her thoughts enough to navigate the conversation without saying too much, glad that they were giving her the space and not pushing her into an answer straight away.

“I can’t even really tell you,” she began hesitantly, expecting a chorus of protests, a wave of relief washing over her when none were forthcoming. “That’s the worst part about all of this. It’s all this big secret and I can’t talk to anyone about it. Penny knows and was supposed to message when they launched about two hours ago but I’ve not heard a bloody thing.”

“And you’re scared something’s gone wrong?” finished Mark, gratified to see a small smile of acknowledgement flit across Cat’s lips, encouraging him to continue now he was sure that he’d got to the root of the problem.  “I’ll grant you it’s unlike Penny not to do something she says she will, but I’m sure it’s gone fine. She’s probably just got caught up in something else.”

“I don’t know,” Cat countered doubtfully. “It doesn’t sound like her.”

She desperately wanted to believe Mark. Penny was ruthlessly efficient in everything she did, but she was still human and that made her prone to making errors just like everyone else. With this realisation, a small portion of the worry that had been hanging over her all day lifted slightly.

“Has she even seen your messages?” Maria added, seeing the way Cat sat up a little straighter now that she had a plausible explanation for Penny’s silence and hoping that it might help further if it was clear that she wasn’t being intentionally ignored.

Cat reached for her phone again and shook her head, feeling better by the minute now logic was beginning to break through the panic that had overwhelmed her. She had never done well with hypotheticals, preferring to have definitive proof before allowing herself to believe something and yet she had allowed herself to become completely convinced of something that was not only unproven but also unlikely, if the number of test launches that Scott had told her about was anything to go by.

“See, you’re always saying how hard it is to get hold of her these days. If she’s not even seen your messages, I’m sure she’s just off dealing with something else,” Maria finished, relieved that some of the light seemed to be coming back into Cat’s eyes.

“It’s just scary not knowing what’s happening when all I want is to know that he’s safe. I just feel so stupid for overreacting,” she finished quietly, looking down at the floor once again.

“Don’t be silly. We’re your friends and that’s what we’re here for so there's absolutely no judgement coming from us,” soothed Mark, offering her a tissue from her dressing table.

“And I think I can safely say that there isn’t a person in the company who hasn’t been scared for someone they love,” added Maria, smiling encouragingly.

Cat nodded again, not trusting herself to speak as the casual way Maria had implied that she loved Scott sent a jolt of recognition through her heart. Pushing it away for inspection another time, she smiled at the others, reassured that at least they understood how she was feeling.

“Isn’t there anyone else you could message who might know what’s happening?” asked Maria, trying to think of anything that could help allay Cat’s fears, even though she was now obviously starting to feel a little better.

“Shit! Selene. She gave me her number when we were on the island but I completely forgot. It’s gotta be worth a shot,” she exclaimed as she grabbed for her phone again, leaving Mark and Maria to smile at each other at the difference in her demeanour now she was doing something practical.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we’ve got a rehearsal in 10 minutes. Do you think you’re up to it?” asked Mark once she was finished, glancing at the clock above the door.

“Yeah, I’ll be OK,” Cat smiled. “Thank you both. I don’t know what I’d do without you two.”

“It’s what we’re here for,” Mark grinned, as he stood, stretching out his legs to rid himself of the cramp that had formed after crouching for so long.

“Right, I guess we’d better get going then.” Cat jumped up and grabbed her bag, her conviction that Selene wouldn’t let her down filling her with optimism as she dashed out of the room, leaving Mark and Maria trailing in her wake.

****

Cat sailed through the rehearsal with her friends’ words and reassurances ringing in her head, banishing her doubts any time they arose. She felt lighter even without any news from the island, knowing that she was understood no matter what happened and whatever the outcome would be going further forward.

The fact that she had been the one needing support had taken her by surprise. She had always been able to deal with anything life threw at her and finding something that had left her so vulnerable had left her shaken. Anger still coursed through her at allowing herself to get so caught up in her fears that it had affected her performance in class that morning but, thanks to Mark and Maria, it had abated enough that she was no longer ruled by it.

Now that she was no longer relying solely on Penny for news, she had a new sense of confidence that by the time the rehearsal finished, she would have at least some news, be that good or bad. That optimism meant that she was finally able to concentrate and work to the best of her ability.

“Feeling better now?” Mark asked with a smile as they finished up, pulling a pair of trousers and top on over his tights to maintain the warmth in his muscles until the next rehearsal.

“You have no idea,” Cat grinned in response, shouldering her bag and rummaging in it to see if her prayers had been answered with a reply to one of her messages. “I mean, I still feel constantly sick and I sort of want to cry, but it’s nowhere near as bad as earlier so I’m taking that as a win.”

“That seems reasonable,” he nodded. “Any news yet?”

Cat’s heart leapt and she froze on the spot as she saw Penny’s name flash up on her screen. Hardly daring to open the message that had arrived only moments before, she steeled herself before clicking on it and devouring the words it contained.

I am so, so sorry for keeping you waiting. Issues on the island prevented me from being in touch sooner. They’re back in orbit. Mission successful.

Relief flooded through Cat as she read Penny’s words again and again, the implications slowly sinking in with every pass. Sheer elation replaced the fears of the morning as fresh tears formed in her eyes at the enormity of what had been achieved that day and what it would mean, not just for Scott, but for the whole family.

“Everything OK?” Mark ventured tentatively, watching Cat closely, still unsure of the contents of the message until he was nearly bowled over, arms flung around him in joy as she answered in two words.

“He’s back.”

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “What Death Tastes Like” Part 3

Scarecrow’s daughter might be only 22, yet the terminal lung cancer she was diagnosed with six months ago didn’t discriminate against her age; the young woman didn’t show worrisome symptoms until it was too late. Y/N always had a fascination for the much older King of Gotham and despite the consequences, maybe it’s finally time to do something about it.

Part 1      Part 2       Part 4       Part 5

You’re done sampling the food that J brought over, quite annoyed he lied about the crepes; it was probably the only reason why you opened the door for him. Or maybe it was a different motive that you don’t like to think of because… what’s the point anyway?

“Crane said he added a new ingredient to your capsules,” The Joker brings it up. “I have no idea how he was able to get Cromyxillium since it’s just in experimental phase; I suppose he has awesome connections,” your guest chews one last bite of cashew salad.

“I know, he texted me but I didn’t answer back… I’m mad at him… I’m mad at everything these days,“ you admit and The King of Gotham piles up the empty styrofoam boxes, calculating how much money Scarecrow spent on a product that might be able to improve your condition.

Y/N watches him absent minded, too preoccupied with her problems to realize The King of Gotham is attentive to her words.

“I used to help my dad develop my remedy, still nothing works and he entirely immersed himself in this ridiculous task of saving me from terminal cancer. He ignored Evelyn for weeks until she left: she understood what he was doing up to a certain level; when it became an obsession…” and you sigh, aggravated by your father’s stubbornness. “I told him he has to patch up their relationship; I don’t him to be all alone after I’m gone…” you sulk and J grabs the containers, dumping them in the trashcan near the table.

“Yeah, Crane will probably be very lonely without you…” and J stops his innuendo when he comprehends how it sounds. “On a positive note,” The Clown Prince of Crime stretches, “I’m actually here to ensure you’re ok taking the capsules containing the new ingredient. Your father asked me to and I am notorious for being this…this selfless person ready to offer my services,” J over exaggerates his ability to sympathize with your situation. “He also warned me not to try anything funny. I don’t understand why I’m not allowed to share any of my funny jokes; doesn’t make any sense,” the distorted interpretation of your parent’s threat almost prompts Y/N’s smile.

“You probably pushed for this visit, taking advantage of the fact that me and my dad had a fight, hm?” you bluntly describe the truth and J can’t defend his absurd statements because your cell phone starts ringing; you glare at the screen, debating if you should answer or not.

“Is that him?” The Joker inquires and you nod a yes while deciding to accept Scarecrow’s call.

“Hello…” you sneak out on the patio as J figures he should walk to his car in order to retrieve the duffel bag fixed in advance for his sleepover.

*****************

Your conversation lasted for about 20 minutes thus The Joker jumped in the shower lacking any type of permission from Y/N; perhaps it could be the reason for your abrupt intrusion in the cozy bathroom.

“Can I take a shower with you?” he hears your question and for once J is uncertain of his reply, yet he is not the kind of person to show reluctance no matter the context.

“It’s your place, isn’t it?” he grumbles and distinguishes your silhouette beyond the steamy glass panels quickly stripping your clothes.

The Joker continues to scrub his skin, undisturbed by your request: he simply doesn’t care if you join him or not.

“I’m using your stuff,” J announces and your arms suddenly hug him from behind.

“You can use whatever you want,” your lips kiss the dragon tattoo on his back a couple of times and he doesn’t even turn around to peek.

“I gotta wash my hair,” he mutters and you brush your lips against his shoulder, sweetly offering:

“I can wash it for you.”

“I got it!” Y/N’s demand is cut off immediately; you’re so humiliated by his lack of interest you curse the dumb choice of being so straightforward: it’s not the first time he shows zero attraction towards his daughter’s best friend.

Your arms release the embrace and The Joker reprises his important chore while hearing you fumbling with toiletry items: you are finishing off your routine at an increased speed, willing to exit out of there as soon as possible.

A few minutes of silence, then The Clown Prince of Crime finally pronounces an insolent remark:

“I hope you saw a naked man before, Y/N! I don’t wanna be accused of traumatizing you. If it really makes you feel better, you can wash my hair.”

No smarty pants attitude rendered upon him and J gazes where you stood only to notice you’re gone: after quietly tiptoeing out of the shower, Y/N took her medications and prepared for the night ahead; she plans for J to sleep in the second bedroom at the small cabin, thus she will spend the night on the couch in the living room, watching TV until she’ll doze off.

“Miss Crane,” The Joker emerges from the bathroom in a t-shirt and shorts. “Are we cuddling on that couch or do we have further arrangements?”

“Spare bedroom,” you grouchily mumble, getting comfortable under the blanket.

“I thought we’re cuddling buddies,” he pretends to be offended at your affirmation mostly since pushing the limit is encoded in his wretched DNA.

“We’re not cuddling buddies!”  

“My bad,” he grins. “I guess I was misled by your actions at the mansion.”

He has such a nerve bringing that up!

“I’m not the type of person to force myself on women,” The Joker innocently informs, “but can I watch TV with you? I’ll camp on the floor by the sofa which is my way to hint I need a bunch of soft blankets to pile up so I won’t break my back. I mean, it’s not very nice of you to deny me access on the couch; must I remind you I granted you free passage in my bed when you asked for it?”

“Are you for reals?!” an increasingly fuming Y/N shrieks slowly rolls out of her relaxing nest. “You were horrible to me and then tried to make it better just because you worried I’d tell Emma or my father! Well, rest assured: I’m not a snitch! You truly don’t have to extend your good will to such lengths on my account! It’s not necessary, ok?! You don’t have to drive here to bring my capsules, you don’t have to bring me food. You don’t have to do anything!!”

“Watch your tone!” J growls, displeased with your feisty attitude. “Do I have to remind you who barged into my privacy to take a peek at me naked?”

Your eyes are big at his derogatory insinuation: he’s playing stupid regarding the incident.

“I barged into your privacy?!” you shout, aggravated. “How can…”

“Umm…” The Joker interrupts, “…your nose is bleeding.”

You didn’t even detect the blood trickling down your skin and you touch it, confused. The King of Gotham watches you a few hesitant steps before you unexpectedly collapse to the ground. “Hey!” his voice echoes in and out. “Hey what’s wrong?... … Can you hear me?”

There’s this high pitch taking over your mind and you can barely discern bits and pieces of a conversation J is carrying with your father. You’re not even aware you’re in a moving vehicle, that’s how much you lost grip on reality.

“What’s in for me if I bring her over, huh?”

“I compensated you!!  Two Nightmare ampoules, a small fortune on the black market! Get off your fucking high horse and bring me my daughter, would you?!” an exasperated parent admonishes.

“Maybe I will stop the car and let nature follow its course,” The Joker fights back Scarecrow’s affront, yet your dad has plenty on his plate .

“If you do such a thing and she dies, I’ll hold you responsible and trust me when I say you don’t want me to hold you responsible!!!” the serious ultimatum prompts your chauffeur to take a sharp turn on Highway 68. “Am I on speaker?” Jonathan checks without given his apparent opponent a chance to rationalize his behavior.

“Yes!” J snarls, pissed at the stupid rescue mission entrusted to him.

“Y/N, hang in there! I’ll get stuff ready by the time you arrive, alright?” Scarecrow encourages his daughter, afraid of the severe consequences of the experimental drug she ingested.  

“Mmmm,” you moan in your daze, not being able to respond.

“Keep her alert; we can’t have her sink into a coma! I have to formulate an IV mixture to flush the Cromyxillium out of her system!”

“She’s completely out!” The Joker states although there’s nobody at the other end of the line anymore. “Who’s we anyway?!” he huffs and elects to give it a go regardless. “Y/N, how many kids we would have had if we were married?... … … … … I think the precise answer is at least 4, am I correct?” J blabbers on since you don’t engage in the conversation. “Great…I’ll be held liable for your demise,” he bites his lower lip, vexed things didn’t shine too bright for him; in fact, no matter how hard The Clown tries the blame it on somebody else, he dug his own hole on this one.

****************

You’re not sure how long you’ve been in the darkness, but the sharp poke in your arm makes you groan in pain.

“I’m sorry honey,” your father whispers. “We have to keep the IV for an hour, then I can take the needle out.”

“D-daddy…” you find the strength to stammer. “Am I… am I dying…?”

“No… No… I won’t let you die…” Scarecrow kisses your forehead, upset you don’t seem fine at all. “It’s my fault, I didn’t think you’ll have a reaction to Cromyxillium, not the way I bound the particles with the rest of the molecules.”

“You didn’t test it?” The Joker intervenes into a dialogue he should steer clear off.

“No, I didn’t have time to test it!” Jonathan hatefully stares at the man he wishes to strangle on the spot. “I don’t have time for anything!! Do you understand? My daughter is dying!! I’m not even that kind of doctor yet she’s breathing nevertheless due to my capability of manipulating compounds! Y/N would be 6 feet under with traditional chemotherapy, which proves I am doing a few things right!!! If Emma was sick, I’m certain you wouldn’t run your mouth like you do now!”

J wiggles in his chair, definitely about to erupt at Crane’s justified tirade.

“I’m so cold…” you utter, the ruckus adding to your general discomfort.

“That’s normal, it means the intravenous remedy is working; I’ll bring more covers,” Jonathan strolls out of the room only to gasp upon his return: J is snuggling with you, totally oblivious to your parent’s stupefied question: “What the hell are you doing??!!”

“I got off my high horse and I’m keeping her warm,” J stresses the importance of his random deed. “It’s not cheap thought! I demand…”

“You demand nothing!” Scarecrow covers you with more layers, irritated The King of Gotham has the audacity to milk out benefits in these circumstances; the latest wants to protest Jonathan’s vehement denial while not being conceded the prospect of such luxury:

“Dad…” you reach out your left hand and he sits by you, keeping the shaky fingers on his face. “Did… did you call Evelyn?” you barely blink, exhausted from the intensive treatment.

“I will…”

“You have to; I don’t want you to end up alone… She loves you… You could have more children with her… or at least one more…”

Jonathan Crane inhales, flustered his daughter is worried about him when she should worry about herself.

“I could have more kids, but don’t you know you’re irreplaceable?” he kisses your wrist and pretends to brush off the agony building up in his heart. “Don’t cry honey,” he wipes your tears, then casually shoves The Joker’s arm since is wrapped around your waist. “Your help is no longer required,” Scarecrow hints and his advice falls on deaf ears: J has important news that might switch the balance in his favor.

“I also called Emma on my way here to report about Y/N’s ordeal; she’s cutting her trip to New York short and I received strict orders to make myself useful until her arrival. Now, unless you want to deal with another pain in the ass besides your offspring, I suggest you tolerate my presence!”

Jonathan curls up in a ball on the vacant side of your bed, relieved to see you’re napping. "I didn’t feel the urge to punch someone in ages!” he sneers.

“Likewise!” The Joker barks too from behind your shoulder. “How come she passed out again?” he switches the subject and Jonathan explains without any trace of enthusiasm.

“I included a serum that promotes nice dreams in her IV bag: she’ll be in a deep sleep and envision things she likes.”

“Oh, that’s awesome. I’m sure I’ll pop up in there then,” the excited Clown Prince of Crime emphasizes to your father’s disapproval.

“I said things she likes!”

**************

10:12am

“Hello Miss Crane,” you are greeted as you narrowly open your eyes; it takes a minute to recollect from the dizziness and confusion of last night’s episode.

“Where’s my dad?” you lick your dry lips, noticing J by the windows.

“At the lab; he’s consulting with some doctors or whatnot and left me in charge,” he effortlessly forges half a truth with half a lie.

“Where’s my phone? I want to talk to him.”

“I think I left it at the cabin, I was in a hurry to get you here.”

“You drove me?...” you skeptically interrogate.

“Yeah, you don’t remember?”

“No…” you stretch while touching the band aid placed where the needle used to be. “Where’s Emma?”

“On her way back to Gotham; she called several times and tried talking to you but you were out.”

“Was I?...”

“U-hum,” J shakes his head. “I reckon she promised she’ll assist with your birthday party next week and she’s terrified you’ll kick the bucket in the meantime. She didn’t precisely articulate these sentences, but I‘m her dad: I can read in between the lines,” the proud Joker blurs out, loving the shocked look you display. “Am I invited to the celebration?”

You signal a no and he’s not discouraged by your vehement denial.

“Can I bring Mara?”

“Absolutely not!!!”

“Oh, so I’m actually invited but not her?”

He takes advantage of the speechless Y/N, setting up the stage for his own benefit:

“I can work with that,” he glares at you, gratified. “However, I can’t show at a party without a date; it’s not dignifying for a man of my social status. This leaves us with only one solution.”

“NO!” you protest because you can estimate his proposal.

“Cool, then we have a deal Miss Crane: you got yourself a date!”

“I already have a date!”

“Who?”  The Joker smirks. 

“Sam is my date for my birthday.”

“Sam as in Bane’s son?”

“Yes,” you squirm under the blankets, uneasy at the concept of having J as partner for the upcoming bash.

“Pfft,” he huffs. “That’s a huuuge load of baloney,” your own words from last night are used by the obnoxious green haired menace. “I’ll pick you up Wednesday at 3pm, ok?”

“The party is here at my house!”

“Ok, then you pick me up at 3pm.”

“I’m not picking you up!” you scoff at his nonsense.

“Damn, you’re hard to negotiate with,” The Joker scratches his chin. “Fine, I’ll bring myself here.”

You contemptuously stare at him, appalled he keeps on insisting when you declined his plan. On top of everything, the whole universe is getting the confirmation today that Jonathan Crane’s genius is frankly skipping a generation since you enunciate:

“Don’t be late!”

Also read: MASTERLIST

You can also follow me ON Ao3 and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho.

[meistoshia]

satoshi’s Bonds, Connections, & Bro - dyns with the gods he’s met  :

houou  :     satoshi’s got a Bond(tm) with it, it being the first god he saw & it continuing to reappear in his life throughout his journey, like before his setting off to hoenn & when he decided to start from zero & received a rainbow feather & eventually ended up battling it  ;     he thinks of it as kind of a background presence that he trusts to keep watch of him, even if it’s nowhere near where he actually is, like in spirit kinda   ( except it really is Always keeping watch of him, especially when he’s in mortal danger, as it did with reviving him through the pokemon’s tears after he got caught in the literal crossfire of mew & mewtwo’s battle ) .

mewtwo  :     president of the mewtwo protection squad, the pokemon’s gone through so much that it doesn’t deserve & satoshi just wants it to be happy & be able to trust people  ;     absolutely no hard feelings for it trying to kill him, most gods have.

the orange archipelago bird gods  :     can i get a waffle ??? can i PLEASE get a waffle ???????     never meant to get caught up in their situation but can’t really resent them for it as they weren’t the ones entirely at fault.

lugia  :     they saved the world together & had half a battle the next time they ran into each other, lugia gave him a ride along w/ go, & satoshi had a Moment with it, where their auras resonated & satoshi exclusively heard lugia’s voice, unlike the first time when everyone could hear it  ;     they vibe.

celebi  :     considers the first one he met to be a friend to this day, he & young ookido bonded with it & satoshi grew incredibly attached & was absolutely heartbroken when he thought it would die, seeing it fly off to join the other celebi feeling bittersweet  ;     he didn’t get to develop much of a friendship with the second celebi he met, but any time he remembers it hopes it’s doing okay, wondering if it’s friends with the aforementioned celebi.

latias  :     he really bonded with it in the short time they spent together &, as with the johto celebi, still considers it a friend.

latios  :     while he didn’t share the same closeness with latios, he was still devastated when, as far as anyone present was aware, it died saving alto mare, so you can imagine the shock when he saw tobias at the sinnoh league with a latios on his team  ;     priorities shifted thinking too hard about it to the very bottom of the list & he only got to thinking about it one night about a month later, after which he contacted tobias as soon as he could to have an exchange that essentially went “was that latios with you” “yeah” “i thought it was dead” “long story, it’s better now” “cool” .

mew  :     thinks of it kind of like you’d think of an overly curious kitten that you occasionally see running around your neighborhood stealing trinkets & snacks & sniffing like, everything  ;     he thinks it’s sweet & fun & has literally risked his life for it & wouldn’t hesitate to do it again, but he does feel like it’s maybe a little naive & doesn’t realize some things have serious consequences, which gives him slight worry that, if it weren’t as powerful as it is, it could end up in some serious trouble   ( & because of that he has mixed feelings about go wanting to catch mew  ;     not only because he Knows it & has Gone Thru Some Things with it, but also because he knows it’s childishly innocent & naive ) .

darkrai  :     thinks very highly of it in terms of strong pokemon, which satoshi always vibes with, & is appreciative of its efforts in defending alamos town.

agnome  :     shares a Connection(tm) with it through their Wills  ;     though they separated after the galaxy gang was disbanded, that connection still remains in the background, not enough to tie them together as before, but enough that if he thinks about it enough, he can still feel that connection.

dialga & palkia  :     can i get a waffle ??? can i PLE ---     satoshi wanting pokemon to stop having destructive fights that endanger civilians that didn’t ask to be a part of their crossfire aside   ...   he wholeheartedly believes they deserve better & was very pissed on their behalves when the galaxy gang wanted to abuse their power & is thankful to them for their assistance when arceus came to michina, & even more so to dialga for sending him & the others back in time to help fix things.

giratina  :     sympathizes with it &, despite how things started out with it, really does hope it can be at peace in its dimension.

shaymin  :     despite their highly rocky start, satoshi grew really attached to shaymin & it broke his heart to have to part with it so soon after he finally started liking it  ;     he respects the rascal & hopes it’s doing okay with the other shaymin.

arceus  :     as with giratina, sympathizes with it, & hopes that the past can be forgiven for the sake of the future & that it doesn’t let human error ever create such a rift between it & humanity again.

victini  :     became incredibly attached to it, especially with their resonating auras allowing satoshi to see into victini’s past & feel its emotions, & was devastated & heartbroken when he thought he’d failed to save it despite promising to take victini to see the sea one day  ;     he was overjoyed to see it alive & well &, even if their parting was bittersweet for satoshi, he hopes it’s doing okay & has a reminder stashed away somewhere to visit it if he ever passes through that part of unova again.

zekrom  :     he’s zekrom approved, sharing a similar connection(tm) as with agnome, only through conceptual Ideals  ;     the connection never truly passed into a tangible area, but satoshi felt it nonetheless when he first arrived in unova, believing that, if they were to properly meet, he’d feel that connection again, much stronger.

keldeo  :     shares a Bond(tm) with it, growing attached & protective of it very early on, feeling a duty to help it face its fears in order to save the other sacred swordsmen, that protectiveness winning out against said duty when he saw just how terrified keldeo was  ;     he feels nothing less than pride in its overcoming its fear & becoming proper sacred swordsman material.

meloetta  :     grew very attached in the time they spent together, admiring both its voice & its strength, feeling anger not unlike one he would with his own pokemon at it being captured to abuse its power.

hoopa  :     he cares for that rascal so, so much, he wholeheartedly wants nothing but the best for it & hopes it never has to go through something like what had been happening for like a century ever again.

volcanion  :     he still has some strong opinions about it, but it’s grown on him, & the knowledge that volcanion truly cares about the other pokemon & wants to protect those that can’t defend themselves just as much as he does makes putting up with it much easier  ;     he hopes that it continues to be able to protect the pokemon in that valley & to keep an eye out for magearna..

zygarde  :     while he didn’t get quite as close to squishy as eureka, he still considers it to have been as much part of the squad as any of the other pokemon, holding it high regard as zygarde.

kapu - kokeko  :     has a Bond(tm) with it, it having taken interest in him & giving him a z - ring & a temporary electric z to go with it & luring him into the woods to battle  ;     it kept a curious eye on him &, in a time of urgency for another universe, sent him over to assist, be it to test him or trusting already that satoshi would be able to handle it  ;     the majority of satoshi’s time training in the alola region was building up to getting to battle kapu - kokeko on equal footing, & eventually winning when it came to ultimate z - move vs ultimate z - move.

kapu - tetefu, kapu - bulul, kapu - rehire  :     though he didn’t make as strong a connection with the other island guardians, he still feels thankful for all that they have done in helping him progress in both training & in times of need.

solgaleo  :     needless to say, he very much thinks of it as one of his own, like the pokemon that he watched hatch & took care of as they treated him like a parent ;     even after evolving into a solgaleo, satoshi can’t help but think of it as that tiny hoshigumo - chan that was entrusted to him by the other solgaleo & the lunala so seemingly long ago.

[queenzufufu]

Youngsters (7/?)

Summary: For the kids at The Rooster teeth care home, life hasn’t always been easy. They’ve come from broken homes, broken families. They’ve escaped with broken bones and broken spirits. But at least now they have a second chance to be happy with a real family.

Well…that’s easier said than done when your family includes a hyperactive midget, an over eager wrestling fanatic and a boy who just can’t go a day without punching something…or someone.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 AO3

“Maybe you should try locking him in a cage or, like, a pet crate or something.” - Ryan

“Yes, Burnie, I promise I’ll be home by twelve.”

Geoff was leaning against the door to the head carer’s office, pleading his case while Burnie sat in his swivel chair, the steam from his coffee fogging his glasses. Downstairs he could hear the voices from Barbara and Matt, who were desperately trying to coax Jeremy into his room to go to bed. Getting that youngster into his room at this hour? Geoff didn’t envy them one bit.

“Alright,” Burnie agreed. Geoff had been hoping to go to a house party the coming Friday, hoping to maybe find true love again with a certain lady he knew was also attending, seeing how Tina had swiftly dumped him and proceeded to tell every girl at school what a jackass he was, whether they wanted to hear it or not. “But if you’re a second later your curfew will be an hour earlier for a month, you understand? I don’t care if you’re ‘nearly a man’ as you’re always telling me, while you still live with me, you live by my rules.”

“Don’t worry, Burnie. When have I ever broken a promise?”

Saying it out loud almost made him believe it. He’d broken more than his fair share of promises, to Burnie probably more than anyone, when he’d been the uncontrollable little kid that had first arrived at Rooster Teeth. It was because of those many early misdeeds that Geoff felt even more indebted to keep his word to the man who’d raised him from being a wild little brat into someone half decent.

And it wasn’t like Burnie was overly strict - quite the opposite in fact. Compared to the rules of many state homes, Burnie ran the place with a firm but flexible hand, putting trust in kids who might have been kept locked away in other homes - runaways, anger issues, panic attacks; those thought to be best kept away from society.

With a gratifying grin and salute, Geoff left the man to his business and bounded back downstairs, skidding to a half as Matt and Barbara practically manhandled a very grumpy Jeremy up to his room, barely holding in his laughter as Matt caught his eye and pulled a face that could only read “kill me now”.

He grabbed a soda from the kitchen and made his way into the smaller living room. The lights were dimmed and the fire was alight - it wasn’t even that cold indoors but if Ryan was around, he was sure as hell going to light one. Shelves littered with books and various art projects spanning over ten years were bathed in a warm orange glow. It was Ryan and Jack who were the only ones there, taking up the two large couches, lying spread-eagled across the cushions, both quietly watching some re-run of an old wildlife documentary.

Geoff placed his drink on the side table and sat himself down next to Jack - or rather glared at the younger teen until he made enough space and sat upright to allow Geoff to sit. As he moved, Geoff noticed the slight stiffness in the action and the way he rubbed at a red mark on his elbow, instantly recalling the reasoning behind it.

Jack had been in a fight earlier, almost as soon as they arrived home from school. There was no prize for guessing who with.

Ever since his chat with the boy, it was like Lawrence had become suddenly more interested - possessive even - over spending time with Geoff. On one hand, Geoff was glad the kid was socializing more. On the other, it seemed to have made any interactions with the other kids even more violent. Like with Jack - he had thrown a fit when the thirteen-year-old had interrupted the two talking about new movies coming out to ask Geoff a question about homework, furious that another kid was taking Geoff’s attention away from him, though he still liked to act as if he resented any conversation the eldest struck up with him - and he came at Jack yelling.

Jack, smiling and pacifying as ever, tried to talk to him. Impossible with Lawrence, so Jack tried to ignore him.

Then Lawrence hit some sensitive spot with his words, or his small fists, and Geoff saw Jack’s mood change. It wasn’t exactly anger. Anger was not something that came easy to Jack, but it was something more like frustration and acceptance.

He’d sighed and given Geoff a resigned look before flying at Lawrence.

They fought.

Geoff made no attempt to stop it. He had stood back and made sure they didn’t cause any serious injuries, but from the start it was apparent that, though they didn’t pull any punches, they were hardly hurting each other as badly as they could have.

They ended up scratched, bleeding, tired, rolling around on the grass unwilling to surrender.

Lawrence came out on top because Jack had no real anger in him and had been warier considering he was far the taller of the two, if not the better fighter. Even the frustration Geoff had seen light up in him had been temporary. A flare to Lawrence’s slow-burning raging candle.

But Lawrence didn’t beat him with any childish smugness. There was no victory in him when he rolled to his feet and held out a hand to Jack.

The two of them recognized something in each other at that moment; that was clear. But just what hadn’t been apparent at the time.

After it was all over Lawrence had skulked off, leaving the home and not returning by late that evening - unescorted by police… which had been a twice occurrence so far, when he’d been causing disruption in town. But apparently, half an hour before Geoff had come back, he brought himself back of his own accord, no shouting or swearing, quietly alerting the staff to his presence before heading to his room. Silent, unflappable, not acting out in any way.

And Jack - Jack who never fought with anyone in that manner, who was all about having a good time and making people happy, who was basically a cuddly teddy bear at all times… the experience strangely seemed to have kind of positive effect.

That look. His look of resignation and acceptance before flying at Lawrence.

It had caught Geoff off-guard. He understands, I think.

That was the line that had stuck in Geoff’s head. After the scuffle was over, and Lawrence had taken himself away, Jack went and sat on the terrace, leaning arms over thighs as he caught his breath back. Geoff had joined him, albeit slowly, unsure if his company was wanted after that. Conflicted too, not knowing whether it was a situation that needed telling to Burnie. Normally it would be a no-brainer. Fights or violence between the kids of any sort were to be reported immediately so the carers were aware and could monitor the situation. But there had been something about that fight, and the completely non-violent conclusion to it, that put Geoff in his dilemma. It was almost too personal.

What happened back there? Was the question Geoff didn’t need to voice for Jack to answer.

And there it was. “He understands, I think. I don’t know how but I think we both just…know.” Jack had laughed, realizing how vague he sounded but making no effort to explain further. The minor scratches on his arms had stopped bleeding, yet he still rubbed absentmindedly at them, finding a meaning only visible to him.

Geoff had twisted to look at him questioningly. He felt more out of the loop than he normally did. “I don’t think I know what you’re talking about.”

“And hopefully you never will,” Jack said, running a hand through disheveled hair. “Or at least not in those circumstances. Not like that…”

Geoff had exhaled shortly out his nose, head shaking in bewilderment. “You worry so much about stepping on our toes but you’re just the same. We all have our secrets. We all have our limits, our boundaries,” he pointed out. “You’re one of us, whether you like it or not, nothing’s gonna change that.” From the look on Jack’s face, he hadn’t seemed completely sold on the idea, and Geoff had shoulder nudged him. “Just something to think about,” he said as he left Jack to his thoughts and battle wounds.

He hadn’t seen the younger boy since then. He’d been around a friend’s for dinner, the same friend who’d invited him to his house party, and had only recently arrived back.

Noticing his stares, Jack shifted in his seat, consciously moving his hand away from his injuries. “Should’a seen the other guy,” he said.

“I did. He looked better than you.”

Jack smiled. There was that strange expression on his face again, understanding, one of remembrance. Geoff wondered, suddenly, if he’d made the right call for keeping the fight from the carers. He supposed he could tell them at a later date if things took a turn for the worse, but then he’d feel like it was his fault for not saying something sooner and plus, there might have been other little eyes spying on them, and if they went to Burnie or one of the other carers first, that might cause them to lose the hell of a lot of trust they already put into Geoff.

Jack cleared his throat then, swinging his legs up so he could curl further into the couch corner. “Yeah… well, I went easy on him. Can’t be seen to be bullying little kids now, can I?”

Geoff glanced at him, torn between playing along with the banter and wanting to push further for an explanation. “There was only one bully back there…” he started to tease, cutting off as the words caught in his throat. “Jack –” he stared, only to practically jump out of his skin at the little voice suddenly at his side.

“What do they mean when a woman’s size zero?”

Jeremy! But wait… hadn’t Geoff seen him…

“He snuck in about twenty seconds ago,” Ryan mentioned from the other couch, nodding towards the ajar door. “About twenty seconds after Matt and Barbara came downstairs to go home.”

Geoff looked at Jeremy, the five-year-old who was currently clambering up onto the arm of the couch, clad in Spiderman pajamas and most definitely not asleep in bed. He came accompanied by his two favorite teddies. Rimmy - an orange-furred bear that had seen better days, and Tim - a little purple owl with massive eyes, that Trevor had bought for him when they went to the zoo. Its pupils had been scratched off over time, giving it a blank, haunted stare.

Geoff shook his head in amusement. Ah well, someone will find him soon enough.

Jeremy frowned, poking him in the arm a few times. “What do they mean when a woman’s size zero?” he asked again.

Size zero… What? Geoff looked at the TV to see if Jeremy had gained that question from what was on screen but the only thing happening was penguin chicks sliding about trying to get into the ocean water. And none of those fluffy motherfuckers are worried about their dress size.

As Jeremy climbed over the arm and onto Geoff’s lap, Jack opened his mouth to answer only to be cut off immediately by the boy continuing: “Because zero’s nothing! So… then they’d be invisible,” he said with great conviction.

Ryan smirked, peering at the two as Jeremy settled himself further into Geoff’s lap. “It just means she’s very skinny,” he said, quickly adding: “But a woman can be any size or shape she wants.”

Jeremy stared at him for a long moment. “What about a star shape?”

There were multiple noises of amusement coming from all three teens at that statement but Jeremy was unfazed by it all, tilting his head further in curiosity. Ryan, meanwhile, tried to rectify his statement: “No, no, I mean she could be –”

He didn’t get very far.

“Or a heart shape cause girls like hearts –” Jeremy suggested, raising his hands in the air to demonstrate.

Geoff batted them gently away. “No, we meant it doesn’t matter if a woman is thin or fat,” he explained.

Jeremy hesitated. He looked at Geoff, brown eyes extremely quizzical. “What if you were like this?” he asked, blowing out his cheeks and puffing out his chest, wobbling side to side. “Would that be okay?”

There was a stunned moment of awkward silence for the little boy’s “fat” impression. “Well um - uh…” Ryan stammered.

Jeremy cut him off again, stating matter of factly, “There’s a man in Mes-Mexico and um, he has to get a crane to get him out of bed he’s so fat; is that alright?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Oh um…well, no…”

Jeremy narrowed his eyes, regarding each one of the teens with his firmest stare. “What is too fat?” he spoke slowly. “Is it –”

“Would you like to watch TV?” Geoff’s voice cracked in his haste to shut the boy up.

The little boy looked up at him and huffed shortly. “No.”

Well… he couldn’t get a more straightforward answer than that.

The next twenty minutes or so were spent diverting Jeremy’s attention from the topic, all three teens working together to keep him interested in the TV show rather than whatever random questions he had stored up in his head.

Eventually, their efforts paid off, with the help of a great white shark or two, who Jeremy had said “were awesome” before finally settling down and watching the show in silence. It didn’t take long for him to fall fast asleep, right there in Geoff’s lap, head crooked in the eldest’s arm, heavily breathing.

And it didn’t take long after that for him to be discovered by one of the carers. As per usual, Trevor, who joined Burnie and Gus as night staff during the weekdays, went up to check on Jeremy’s room to make sure he was asleep - as he so often wasn’t - and obviously finding no boy there, hurried back downstairs, checking in first the larger living room and then in theirs, shaking his head in both relief and exasperation at the sight.

“That little…” he muttered under his breath, stepping around to gather the youngster into his arms. “I’m sorry boys.”

Geoff grinned at the young man. “No worries, least he’s out now.” And he would stay out. Once he was gone, he was gone, thank the Lord.

Trevor arranged Jeremy into one arm, grabbing Rimmy and Tim with the other, pausing as he turned to look at the TV, pulling a face at the blood-filled water and fish bits. “Hmm, nice. Hopefully that doesn’t come back to haunt us.”

“Oh yeah, sorry,” Geoff apologized, sheepish. He remembered a year or so ago when Jeremy had caught a glimpse of Jaws. The staff had been dealing with wet bedsheets for a good week after that. “Was the only thing that kept him interested.”

“Maybe you should try locking him in a cage or, like, a pet crate or something,” Ryan added, rolling his eyes at Trevor’s disapproving look. “I’m not serious,” he said, before turning his head sharply to Geoff. “Or am I?” he whispered harshly, putting on a menacing tone, though his eyes shone gleefully, like a child, and Geoff could only smile in return.

Trevor shook his head, giving Ryan’s head a light shove as he walked past with his sleeping passenger, at the same time as the credits rolled on the documentary, an old war movie starting up next. It didn’t take long for Ryan to lose interest; he usually liked to spend the remainder of his evenings in his room playing video games anyway.

“I’m gonna go up,” he said, stretching languidly as he stood. “See you boys tomorrow.”

“Night, Ryan,” they both murmured as the door shut behind him.

The fire was dying down by now, yet it was still toasty warm in the room, enough to entice Jack and Geoff to linger for a while more. Geoff half paid attention to the movie and half counted the number of times Jack looked across at him. The teen kept shooting glances his way, and Geoff knew he wanted to ask something. He waited, tapping his fingers on his knee until Jack finally swallowed.

“He lost a family member, didn’t he?”

“Who?” Geoff asked, surprised, thinking that Jack was referring to Ryan at first, which made no sense because he already knew the answer to that one and that was hardly a comfortable topic of conversation.

But Jack shook his head. “Lawrence,” he added, locking eyes with Geoff. There was something odd in his face, and Geoff stared intently at him. “Who was it? Mom? Dad?” Jack continued.

God. He hadn’t been expecting this, and he once again felt torn, knowing he really wasn’t supposed to give any private information away but, if this was connected to earlier, which he was ninety-nine percent sure it was - wasn’t getting to the bottom of that strange fight more important?

He debated with himself for a few moments before making up his mind. “Dad. Heart attack,” he rushed out. “He tell you that?” he asked, perhaps a bit more accusing than he intended, because he saw something guilty in how Jack’s eyes flickered away and shoulders hunched.

“He didn’t need to,” Jack replied, face decisive. “He saw his dad die.” He didn’t say it with sadness or sympathy, more like the same realization and acceptance that Geoff had seen in his face earlier.

Saw him die? Geoff hadn’t said that. Hell, he didn’t know the specifics.

For a moment Geoff wanted to shake him. To grab him by the shoulders and let himself demand better answers so he could feel more involved. But it wasn’t his place to pry into the private feelings of the other kids - not unless it was doing them harm and, as far as Geoff could see, despite the fighting, what had occurred earlier had been reasonably harmless. It’s just he’s so fucking curious. Sure, Lawrence. But Jack? Jack resigning his good nature to fight with another kid? Just a whole lot of God damn curiosity.

“You think you’re better than me but neither of us saved them,” Jack suddenly said.  He smiled as Geoff’s eyes widened. “That’s what he said,” he clarified. “That’s what made me… feel like I had to go at him - not in anger,” he hastily added. “Just something we needed to sort out. I think he wanted it… was pushing me to see if what he’s probably heard around here was true.”

Geoff stared at him for longer than was natural, taken aback by the way Jack had abruptly revealed what Geoff had been wondering all along. “Heart attack if I recall. When the kid was seven.” What the hell, he might as well tell Jack the rest of that limited story. The kid was hardly going to go blagging about it to the others. He felt a tinge of guilt, that he might have been violating Lawrence’s privacy, but the kid had kind of partially given that away, now that he knew what the boy had said to Jack to start things off.

“Jeez, that’s really tough,” Jack said, and usually the pity would be just that, pity. But it was Jack, and he’d been through it, he’d been through the worst loss imaginable.

“Mmm,” Geoff grunted and took a deep breath. “I don’t think that’s what’s making him so angry here though.”

Jack stirred as if waking from a dream, shrugging slightly. “Can’t have helped though, could it?”

“No…no, it can’t have,” Geoff agreed.

“What you said earlier… about me worrying.” Jack gulped, tongue like he suddenly wanted air, wanted to get out, to change the subject, but pushing through anyway. “… Do you ever resent me for it?” he asked in a small voice. “For having a family who, y’know… who loved me?”

Geoff stared at him. “Fuck no,” he said, shocked and frowning. “Why would you even ask that?” It came out harsher than intended and Jack cowered in on himself.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he whispered, jaw clenching.

Geoff gave him a considering look. Then he reached out an arm - Jack jerking back automatically in surprise, calming down when he saw the softness in Geoff’s eyes. “Hey, no, I’m sorry,” Geoff apologized instead. “I was just a bit shocked by the question. Do I ever come off that way?”

“No, but… I don’t exactly make things easy for myself.”

“What do you mean?” Geoff knew Jack worried about tiptoeing around certain subjects, more than Geoff would have liked, but he’d thought that was just how the younger teen was. A people pleaser through and through.

“Just by, like,” Jack murmured, biting his lip, "opening my big mouth and hurting people when I don’t mean to. I never mean to.”

Geoff sighed. “I still have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Jack’s jaw clenched again, lips pursing like he tasted something sour.

“You think you’re hurting us? Jack…” He reached out again, this time able to put a comforting hand on the younger boy’s shoulder, and he spoke in earnest. “None of that’s to do with you. Sometimes things happen and people - everybody, not just you - say and do stuff that has an effect on us. Takes us back for the briefest of moments. But that ain’t your fault. No…” His own fists clenched slightly in conviction. “No, that ain’t your fault at all. That is, for me, my good-for-nothing parents fault. Same goes for a lot of us.”

Jack swallowed. He didn’t answer, and when Geoff looked over at him, his head was lowered and his hands twisted into the fabric of his t-shirt. So tense he was nearly shaking. But Geoff couldn’t stop now, couldn’t stop when Jack still looked completely and utterly unconvinced about his own self-worth.

He reached his arm further around the boy’s shoulders, a position he had taken so many times when his younger brothers were upset. Each of those times he could only speak from his heart, that was the best he could do, he never saw himself as some great motivator or emphasizer. I’m not a psychologist, but I am their big brother. And I care.

He breathed deeply, leaning his head in close. “Just because you’re not here because your parents were assholes doesn’t mean we resent you or despise you for it, or whatever other crap you’ve conjured up in that big head of yours. In a way, it’s way harder for you, because you had a great life before, and it must’ve hurt so much more to have it taken away.” He scoffed a bit. “And be honest, there must have been loads of times when one of us has done the same to you, unintentionally made you feel bad or sad about the past.”

“I dunno… yeah, I guess.” Jack was side-eyeing him like it was some kind of trap.

“Tell me.” Geoff urged.

“What?”

“Tell me. I want to know what I’ve done to make you feel like that. Drop it on me.”

“It’s nothing you’ve done personally,” Jack muttered, and Geoff had to selfishly admit that made him feel better about himself. “I uh –” Jack huffed in frustration. “It’s dumb.”

“I think it’s dumb some harmless comment someone makes can cause me to feel all freaked out for a few seconds,” Geoff pointed out. “Just cause you may think something’s dumb, doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

Jack was quiet for a moment, picking at a loose thread on the hem of his shirt. “When… when you guys… the youngin’s, I mean,” he spoke, soft and tentative. “Y’know, they can get rowdy on longer car journeys and… not all the time, but sometimes I feel…” His face twitched. “All nervous and out of control and I can’t help thinking back –” He broke off and attempted to laugh it off, the sound coming out very forced, his cheeks reddening. “See?” he looked up at Geoff. “Dumb.”

Geoff shook his head, a small smile on his lips. “Jack Pattillo. You went through a horrific trauma at seven years old that most folks don’t experience in a lifetime. You lost your mom, your dad, your little sister; all in a blink of an eye. You were thrown into a world with kids you thought would resent you for coming from a good family. And yet here we are, everybody here loves you. You’re kind and friendly, easy for everyone to talk to and, I might add, you give the best fucking hugs ever.” He added on to that part by tightening his arm around the younger boy’s shoulders, adding: “Hey, you even achieved something I haven’t yet - you somehow connected on a deeper level to the angriest kid currently here. That’s you. That’s all you, kid.”

Jack was silent, stunned. Geoff couldn’t blame him. They loved each other and all, brothers to the end, but like brothers, sometimes talking about the hard shit didn’t come as easy. Eventually, Jack did nod, slowly. He slumped back against the couch, and Geoff rather awkwardly sat there, all his energy having gone into his passionate speech, and now he was all aware of what he’d just said and how full on it might have sounded. He part expected Jack to leave - but he just sort of lounged there, seemingly comfortable to be there, next to Geoff, in a companionable silence. After a few moments, Jack relaxed enough to release some of the tension from his body. As he did though, he drew in a sharp intake of breath.

Unable to meet Geoff’s gaze, he shakily breathed out. “I miss them so much sometimes.” Geoff leaned around to see tears glistening behind the boy’s glasses. Now that he’d released all the tension, it seemed like it had been the only thing to keep him from breaking down, and Geoff instinctively wrapped the boy in a proper hug as he shook and cried out quiet sobs of pure pain.

“I know,” Geoff said into his ear, blinking repeatedly. “I miss them for you, cause they must’a been freakin’ awesome guys to raise a kid like you.”

To the outside eye, the emotional outburst may have appeared out of nowhere, but Geoff had noticed over the past few weeks, troubled thoughts building up in the younger teen.  It could have and probably had been just a load of small things, all building up to this moment. Maybe the fight with Lawrence today had been the breaker. Either way, at some point, Geoff knew all that emotion was going to be released one way or another. That it could grow and grow and spill out, catching you unaware at the most inopportune moments.

Nights too. Nights were always somehow the hardest. They were often the quietest part of the day. More time for reflection, easy to get caught up in your own head once the day was over and only sleep and dreams awaited.

He’d been there too, he recalled, not letting go or loosening his grip and Jack still cried quietly into his shoulder. Oh yeah, he’d been there many-a-time. In the end, there wasn’t much you could do about it.

Yep, some nights just freakin’ sucked.

––––

So he’d been getting on well with school. And swimming. He���d made friends in both places, and his week had been… good. Good as in not excellent, not awful, just very neutral. Perhaps ‘okay’ was a more apt choice of word. He’d had an okay week.

Geoff approached him one day after school, took him by the hand and lead him down to the basement without even asking. Gavin put on the smallest pair of gloves while Geoff grabbed the bad and held it ready, and they started to practice the simple exercise they’d gone through many-a-time, all without saying one word to each other, the only sound coming from Gavin grunting every so often due to the pure physical exertion.

They were silent until it was over fifteen minutes and Geoff had gone to get a snack and a drink for them both, orange juice and some Tim Tams Barbara had brought back from her travels, and somehow they ended up talking about nothing in particular, at one point just bouncing back and forth dumb ideas for presents for Ryan’s upcoming birthday - Geoff seemed weirdly keen on the idea of buying Ryan a full set of bedroom furnishings, duvet and pillow cases, cushions, blankets, but with a twist; they would all have massive prints of Ryan’s own face on them. Perfect for an egomaniac like him, Geoff had joked. They got so caught up in the conversation that they forgot what time it was and had to be called up for dinner. It had been nice, Gavin couldn’t remember the last time he’d let his mind wander so freely and so carefree.

Geoff made time for him most days now. Not that he hadn’t before, but it was like he’d reserved a specific time for only hanging out with Gavin. And again, their chatter was always nothing of importance. They would talk about food, movies, celebrities; a right pair of gossip girls. Geoff would tell him about the new girl he was interested in. Griffon was her name and she sounded cool, Geoff’s eyes always lit up that extra bit when he spoke of her, unlike the way they’d dimmed with some of his previous romances. Only negative: she’d already rejected Geoff’s advances twice but, Geoff would adamantly tell him, it was all part of the game.

Gavin thought the game sounded rather complicated.

He wished those conversations could go on forever. No matter how hard Michael or Jeremy tried, their attempts at trying to keep his mind distracted never seemed to work quite as well. Sure, he would enjoy their company as much as he ever did but it was always so obvious to him, that they were worried. And that just made him feel plain bad. He didn’t want to be a burden on them. Not that he was naive enough to think that Geoff’s planned get-togethers didn’t have the same kind of intentions, but with the eldest… well, he wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was because Geoff gave off the air of having been there, done that, lived to tell the tale. His manner was always relaxing and comforting to Gavin, like he was reassuring him that there was nothing wrong with him even without saying it directly.

Because Gavin did worry, a lot, that there was something wrong with him. Something that couldn’t be fixed. It would make sense. His parents had treated him like he was their toy, for them to do with as they pleased. They had been sick people, mentally disturbed, the both of them. Two disturbed people who had unfortunately found each other and brought him up in their life of “scientific research”. The only thing they ever did right by him, was leaving him alone in that hotel room for three days and not coming back, even after the fire and everyone had been evacuated, alerting the authorities to that fact that there was one small, young boy all by himself.

He thinks, when it all came down to it, that maybe the unknowingness of it all was what affected him the most. He didn’t have closure. His parents weren’t in prison or rehab or dead - or maybe they were but he had no way of knowing. They were simply an overhanging memory and the fact that they could still be out there and might one day reappear in his life… that was what terrified him more than anything.

The nights were still the worst. When he’s lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to take him so he could just get it all over and done with but dreading it all the same.

“Gavvy? You okay?” Michael asked from his bed.

Gavin shifted a bit, pulling the duvet up higher. “Mmhmm.” It was half nine. They had school tomorrow. They weren’t supposed to still be talking.

“Should I switch the light off yet?”

Michael was the only one who had a bedside table to hold a lamp. Gavin used to have one, but more violent night terrors lead to that being taken away, less the carers wanted him to keep hitting his head on it.

“Not yet, if that’s okay,” Gavin managed. It was embarrassing, and he swallowed hard, and how could he say he wanted it to stay on all night when Michael couldn’t get to sleep if there was light in the room? That would just be purely selfish and Michael already did so much for him.

“Course, it’s okay,” Michael said cheerfully, but Gavin could tell from the lilt in his voice that he was getting sleepy.

Five more minutes, he told himself. Five more minutes and then I’ll be brave.

There was some more rustling from Michael’s side of the room, the bed creaking as the other boy moved about on it. “So… I found this earlier,” Michael said, and there was something slow and careful in it.

Gavin’s eyes widened in horror as Michael held up some of the books Jeremy had given him the other week, ones he had kept hidden under his bed. He didn’t have time to ask why Michael had been rummaging through his stuff though. “They - they’re not mine,” he lied, and Michael nodded slowly, and now Gavin couldn’t stop worrying if he was going to make fun of him, and he sunk further into his bed, hoping it might swallow him up.

“I know. They’re Jeremy’s,” Michael replied casually. “Was wondering why you had them, was all.”

Gavin kept quiet. Michael thought bedtime stories were dumb and Gavin, having never known any better, had always tended to agree with him. Michael always said he could imagine way cooler stories in his head without the need for a book. That may be so but for Gavin… all his stories were nothing ever meant for children.

“It was just Jeremy trying to help,” he mumbled. “He was only trying to help.”

Michael didn’t broach the subject again, and part of Gavin was glad, but part of him wished he would. Part of him wanted Michael to laugh fondly at little Jeremy’s ideas, giving Gavin the opportunity to laugh too, so Gavin could show that he thought kids storybooks were dumb also. It could be their little joke rather than Gavin’s awkward secret.

Michael didn’t laugh.

Instead, Gavin heard him get out of bed and, as he rolled to question where the boy was going, Michael smiled at him by the door, rubbing at tired eyes. “I’ll be back in a few secs. Don’t worry,” he assured.

As the footsteps padded away, Gavin’s curiosity increased. Normally he would be able to hear where Michael had gone judging by the location of his steps but as it was night, the boy was being extra quiet. After a couple of minutes, when Gavin had just started to fret that Michael had left him - even though he knew that was completely ridiculous - the sound of footsteps appeared again. Two sets this time.

Hall-light shone into the room as the door opened again and Michael entered, Trevor a few steps behind. The young carer’s hair was poking out in all directions and he was dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants. Clearly, Michael had caught him in the middle of his own bedtime routine. Nevertheless, Trevor spoke friendly and upbeat as ever. “Hey Gav, Michael said there’s some books he wants me to read. That okay?”

Gavin only stared, mouth agape, as Michael bounded to the pile of books and picked the one Jeremy had recommended. The one with a dog on the front. “This one Trevor! This one looks the best!” he grinned, dancing around on bare feet.

“Alright, alright, settle down,” Trevor hushed. “It’s quiet time, remember?”

“Okay,” Michael whispered, putting his finger to his lips. “We’ll be very, very quiet.”  And then instead of getting back into his own bed, he dashed towards Gavin’s, jumping in under the covers before either Gavin or Trevor could get in a word. “What?” he said innocently, as he poked his unruly curly head out. “This is for a better audio experience.”

Trevor rolled his eyes but allowed Michael to stay. The other boy felt incredibly warm next to Gavin and he smelled like the strawberry shower gel he’d used earlier. It wasn’t the first time they’d shared a bed, but usually, it was because they were cold and playing a video game together. As the lay together at that moment Gavin wondered if, in Michael’s past life, that maybe once upon a time, he’d done the same with his brothers, before they’d all been taken away and separated.

Trevor pulled over a chair and sat down next to them. He read - he read a book to them. Harry The Dirty Dog was no ground breaking literature and was quite short, probably aimed at children a few years younger than them aka Jeremy, but it was charming all the same and Trevor was excellent at putting on the voices.

After that, Trevor read one called Green Eggs and Ham which Michael, to Gavin’s surprise, seemed to greatly enjoy. The older boy even demanded that Trevor read another Dr. Seuss book after - their last one, Trevor informed them.

Turned out Trevor was correct in his estimations of their energy levels. Before the book was finished, Gavin’s eyes were shut and he was barely paying attention to the words, not stirring when Trevor stopped altogether and stood up. He was vaguely aware of Trevor ushering an almost passed out Michael back to his own bed, but darkness quickly consumed him, locking out any info of the waking world.

And what a darkness. For it was simply that. For once in so many weeks, it was simply dark. Simple, peaceful nothingness.

[nicemango-feed]

Not Oppressed Enough : Being the Wrong kind of Ex-Muslim

For those asking over the past few days, wtf happened to start these mob attacks on me: Well...I'm not entirely sure, because they sort of came out of the blue. There's a general rift in left-leaning atheists and right-leaning atheists. And 'right-leaning' is seen as some sort of slur, when it's just an observation based on the politics coming from some of these types. If you're anti-left on everything, and rarely ever anti-right...it says something. Especially today.  This split continues to become more pronounced in these times of the rise of the far right. While lefties are looking to focus some of their criticism there, others are trying to resist and silence that criticism. 

Basically a few days ago, some dude I had never heard of, called @FuriousFossa was upset that I tweeted about not knowing what Taqiya was till I got on twitter. Despite growing up in Saudi. Because this didn't confirm his previously held beliefs, what good are ex-muslims if they can't confirm your bullshit views?!  Then, someone upset him further by saying that people using that term while criticizing Islam are usually bigots. OMFG the B word!! We have to be extra PC with that word, so as not to upset the delicate sensibilities of the anti-PC, anti-sjw crowd, why can't everyone know that!! 

And I'd agree, people insisting on using that word are usually pretty loony...(as was proven in this case).  I've got news, Muslims can lie without any special religious permission. Just like any other theist.  This isn't a widespread muslim conspiracy to deceive people. It's a niche concept that most aren't even aware of. And I mean, there's just so much actual terrible stuff that is commonly practiced  in Islam (polygyny for one) to criticize anyway, there's little reason to cling defensively to obscure things like Taqiya.  Here's another ex-muslim perspective on this: 

Fossa was also upset I wrote something (to someone else, not him) about how pointing to ISIS is a great whataboutery tactic for apologists of the western right. Just point to ISIS, it'll always be worse, and you're off the hook. 

That's it two strikes for me, and he decided he wanted to disprove my entire background and lived experience. This way, you know, once I was totally discredited...at least he'd know I was wrong about the concept of Taqiya, and he was right!  Trying to prove me dishonest, after being upset I didn't confirm his views on a dishonesty concept in Islam....almost like...trying to prove me a taqiya-er. How taqiya-esque.  

It got me accusations of deflecting away from the obvious point that ISIS is worse (which i'm sure I've said myself roughly about 9465 times. I just don't feel the need to utter it every time... with literally any other criticism of anything other than Islam. 

It also got me accusations of trying to deflect from criticism of Islam. Lol. 

Yeah. I'm sure it does take a little more than a bio, maybe like years and years of work of criticizing Islam, that are useless now apparently because I also criticize the Western right. These criticisms can't get any less intelligent, honestly. 

*** Then...of course, Lalo - always on the lookout for jumping on any criticism of me, Joined in and helped to float the conspiracy theories to a larger audience (who knows why - I've barely interacted with the guy in ages...he's still always infuriated with me). And then Yasmine, who, it seems, had it out for me since we had a private falling out during Gad's last unhinged meltdown at me. 

#TheTriggering of @gadsaad http://pic.twitter.com/F2ifbm3UcB

— Armchair Critic (@JoelRDodd) December 2, 2016

Because she, as my friend, publicly tweeted how those attacking me, and me were equally 'embarrassing' or something. I tried to privately discuss it with her, she deleted her tweet I believe, but it was clear she wasn't too sympathetic to the attacks on me because, she tweeted I was equally at fault..and because I criticized Gad/Rubin's far-right associations in the first place. People she clearly considered allies. I was pretty disappointed and put off, but my reaction was not to go out and slander her. I just silently disengaged and went about doing my own thing, which still included criticizing Gad and Rubin's shady associations.  Of course, silly me. I didn't learn or keep my mouth shut after the last round of baseless attacks. Lalo even tried circulating the 'she's not a real ex-muslim' thing that time, but I think it got lost in Gad's endless stream of hate.

Then months later, this happened. This time Lalo got more traction.  *** The Nitty Gritty Gather round peeps, I’m gonna share a really absurd tale about supposed ex-muslim allies, supposed critics of sjw style 'oppression olympics' and sjw ideological purity tests…but who are now furious because an ex-muslim they disagree with ideologically/politically in their minds was not oppressed ENOUGH. 

A fellow ex-muslim, that I have personally promoted, jumped in happily to weigh-in on the drama and attempt to negate my lived experience by claiming I just *dabbled in oppression*, haven’t truly experienced it or anything… My life was like a 5 star resort apparently...and everyone else seems to be a good judge on what kind of life I had in sharia-land.

I wasn’t oppressed enough in Saudi fucking Arabia…This is a *real* objection raised by some, including a fellow ex-Muslim. 

Let that sink in.

It's not even by people I actively debate or disagree with…but people I have little to no interaction with. They don’t understand the first thing about life in Saudi, none of them have lived there.. but are telling others far and wide what my life experience was like. They are giddy from having ‘exposed’ me, caught me out in some lie about the duality of life in Saudi Arabia as an expat. They've been working hard for this one. 

Oh my. 

Whatever will I do now. They’re on to me.  

Not like I’ve podcasted about the duality of life in Saudi here, here, here, or here….and not like i’ve specifically addressed this strange juxtaposition in articles myself or anything. I have never claimed to be the most oppressed person in Saudi Arabia, quite the opposite in fact. I have always talked about being lucky to have the kind of life I did there. But, despite that...my life certainly wasn't free from the application of Sharia law, from standard Islamic theocracy regulations, that were just absorbed into my life as 'normal' because I knew little else. 

Yet - They have clipped some audio, from *my own show*…that I do *publicly*…to demonstrate how ‘dishonest’ and contradictory i’ve been. 

Great question indeed. Maybe try checking out the work of the person you're accusing, your question might be addressed in the very episode you're clipping. 

(let me come out and say now that I’ve lived in both Saudi and Pakistan, lest they do some other genius clip about my ‘contradictions’ ..sometimes you will hear me talking about going to school in Saudi, sometimes you will hear me talking about going to school in Pakistan. It’s because both are true… not because I’m a secret spy or Taqiyya-er who can’t keep her lies straight) 

This is almost too easy to mock and ridicule, I feel embarrassed for them, I do, and I’d normally just ignore insignificant people.. but they keep going on and on. They keep being told how wrong they are at each turn too. Brutal. But they’ve backed themselves into a corner now… the only thing they can do is double down and lash out at me…Not admit they made a mistake or something, and were wrong to accuse me based on zero evidence. That would be the decent thing to do.  

A lovely summary from the detached-from-reality point of view, calling me an insult to women and ex-muslims suffering under sharia, this was posted on lalo's public thread. 

I imagine this will only get crazier as their rage grows…because they cannot discredit me based on things I’ve been entirely honest about. Since I'm the wrong kind of ex-muslim, I do not get the charitableness anonymous ex-muslim accounts they don’t have issues with get. 

Mostly, people on both ends have an issue with me because I refuse to pick a team. I think criticizing both Islamic far right and western far right is important. And I think in Trumpian times, Its vital to focus *some* of my critique on the western right and its apologists. When that toxic stuff overlaps with criticism of Islam, it does nothing but muddy the waters, and hold back valid criticisms from resonating with the mainstream. ***

Know this:

I do not exist to confirm any narratives. 

I occasionally deviate from my appointed role as provider of anti-Islam masturbatory material. 

I exist simultaneously as an ex-muslim woman who grew up under Shariah (that’s right I said it again), who will harshly criticize Islam when relevant, as an expat from Saudi who will tell you that in some bubbles life in Saudi was pretty secular at times, and as a *Western* liberal feminist. So I will have critiques of western sexism and misogyny too. And I will speak up against anyone pitting different aspects of my identity against one another. Do not use sharia to silence western feminists, and do not use western perspectives to silence women who speak up about hijab, etc. This is whataboutery. Women everywhere should want to better their situation. We are far from perfect equality even in the west.

I am happy to criticize feminism when it goes off the rails, but I do not buy into the “feminists are the real sexists” bullshit, or the western feminists should stfu because they aren’t getting stoned to death. 

Anyway, I will have happy memories of my childhood in a secular compound in saudi…I will have tales of women bathing topless at my compound pool…and I will also have tales of being forced into a black bag against my will because of the ‘Muttawas' or morality police as we called them. I will have tales of having a great secular education, and I will have tales of horror where I, only a child, saw my mom’s ankles hit by a muttawa’s cane because her headscarf slipped in the market. I will have tales of being shepherded quite literally with sticks by morality police in Mecca who herd the women hastily into a segregated prayer area for women. I will have tales of being pushed to the ground and almost trampled because of the morality police forcefully segregating us in Mecca. I will have a story or two about running…being chased by muttawas as they yell behind me for my headscarf slipping…of narrowly making it into a car that was driven for me (because I did not have the right to drive)…and of the muttawas catching up, and grabbing on in vain to a little bit of black fabric as our car sped off and it slipped through their hands. I will have such stories of escaping the morality police in the street.. and of feeling fear, and… of feeling comfort ...that for some hours I had a compound to go home to…and to shed the black cloaks that I wasn’t given a choice on. A reverse amish compound as I’ve literally referred to it before. 

I encompass all those identities and I’ve repeatedly, honestly explored them with my audience…I’ve pointed to the absurd duality. Yet the savage internet mobs who hate me (which only used to consist of islamists at one point..but now they are fewer than the rabid western right wing apologists) have portrayed this as some great shady conspiracy. Some incredible contradictory set of stories that simply cannot be consolidated. 

It must be that I’m lying about one or the other. 

“Either you grew up on a compound, or either you grew up in sharia - which is it” — heaven forbid they put some thought into it and realize, well… oh…it can actually be both! Imagine that. 

Cue fellow ex Muslim, previous guest of my show Yasmine to jump in and cast further doubt. She posts an ad for the most extravagant compound in the entire country, and projects that onto my experience. My compound was nothing like Aramco, it was incredibly small and modest in comparison, but thats irrelevant, even if it were Aramco I'd have to experience Sharia every time I left. My life was not better than the life of most Canadians because I was still forced into a black bag against my will, pretty much every day. Morality police and their canes were a regular sight, I had few rights as a woman. But sure, please go out of your way to discredit my lived experience. Why they did this appalling thing, and insisted on it even after being told how it could be both...is beyond me.

Real classy. 

Lol, cuz growing up in Saudi in a compound is TOTALLY like vacationing in the nicest hotel in Havana for a few months. 

 Cue random person who just isn't satisfied:

Not good enough apparently.

Still not good enough.

"I don't like what Ali had to say so I'm going to fill in my own details despite never having lived in Saudi or knowing anything about life there." "Eiynah barely left the compound, went to school on the compound" Umm, No. Actually I left the compound every day, to go *to* school. I just love that details about my life are authoritatively being discussed, without any actual knowledge, ffs. Yes I barely ever had a real conversation with a Saudi, I've talked about this several times. It doesn't mean I didn't speak to Saudis on a daily basis in the markets, and shops, etc. It just means I never actually had the chance to know a Saudi national closely and have a proper conversation with them because we were kept segregated. Something I have discussed repeatedly. 

Not even multiple corroborations of this reality are convincing enough. No no, everyone who says this is lying, but these random internet people who know nothing about life in Saudi, are here to 'non-Saudi-splain' to me that my experience is inauthentic, that I’m an embarrassment to women who *really* live under sharia. I'm just an imposter, who lived under sharia but also had access to a community pool. So you know, discrediting my story is fair game. I also had air-conditioning. The luxuries I’ve been hiding from you all. 

This is the same group of people mind you, that get upset when people try to discredit Ayaan Hirsi Ali's lived experience of being a victim of FGM. But because I don't fit the mould they'd like me to, and also will criticize people within the islam-critical scene. You can make comics to mock and laugh at my life experience. 

Minus the *face* covering, both those pictures were my reality actually.

No amount of refutations of the lies put out there about me are enough. Surely anyone with a shred of principle would object to random false accusations being used to smear someone. I mean these ‘principled' types are out in droves when  someone slightly misrepresents Richard Spencer the nazi or Milo. “I don’t agree with their ideas but” just doesn’t extend over to ‘the wrong kind of ex muslim’ I guess. 

----Worse still…Yasmine, once a friend…someone who’s had a terrible experience under Islam no doubt.. I would never discredit her experience despite her vicious attacks on me, She’s someone I empathized with, with all my heart.. But somehow she has it out for me because I’m, you know,  a shit disturber who derails from *only* criticism of islam, by having a problem with fellow atheists when they promote rape apologists or… white genociders… why can’t i just keep my head down and perform the role that is laid out for me as an ex muslim? Criticize islam, thats it. ----

This is especially funny because the example of loony he uses is someone normalized, legitimized and promoted by..none other than the person he's defending. Also what is up with the weird mentions of "loyalty", like if you've disagreed with me on Rubin, no need to be "loyal", just be honest. I won't respect that view, but it's better than dishonesty.  

Yeah its totally mental and a delusion of grandeur to expect someone like Rubin who claims they are liberal to not promote rape apologists, like they've done nothing wrong...or white genociders. This is a convenient strawman of my position on Rubin, used repeatedly. I don't care if he aligns with me on every single thing, I enjoy some of Sam Harris' work, I don't agree with him on everything (as you might have noticed on my episode with him). I enjoy some of Maajid Nawaz's work...I don't agree with him on a lot, since he is an adherent of religion and I'm not. Heck, I don't think I agree with anyone on everything. But I do expect people to at least not look the other way on *rape* apologetics, White Genocide, Islamism...important values like that matter to me. they aren't some tiny, nitpicky details. For some people , I guess opposing *only* Islamism is important. (Oh, and not like I'm currently being targeted for a difference of opinion).   Ah, the lack of self-awareness. 

pic: via @vinikako

@NiceMangos @AkiMuthali It struck me as I was writing it that the people who've been going after you lately seem to want to establish an orthodoxy for ex muslims.

— Lefty Conspirator (@NoKnownFuture) March 31, 2017

Whatever mine and Yasmine's differences on Rubin were...was no reason to jump on the Lalo bandwagon to openly try to discredit my entire existence with no evidence. To post tasteless memes about me trying on some oppression, just dabbling in it for fun. 

A) "Dabbling in oppression." What kind of person do you have to be to say that sort of thing- and without any intimate knowledge of the person who's life you're talking about. B) It's not all about passports, but yes to a great degree, people in Saudi are valued more in the workplace depending on their passport - another thing I've talked about on my podcast. However, when living in Saudi I had a total, bottom-rung, treated like garbage Pakistani passport, not a Canadian one. Wrong again on all counts. C) I hope you don't ever criticize concepts of white privilege or PoC being romanticized, because that doesn't come close to this level of "oppression olympics".  It's just so so callous, can't wrap my head around this.

I’m at a loss for words, honestly. I wouldn't have expected stooping to this level. Though, things got a bit weird with her after Trump won, she was overly defensive about criticism of Trump voters. Since then, I’ve seen her compare DNC/Keith Ellison situation to Nazi Germany… in this TRUMP ERA

 … I’ve seen her rejoice at the GOP winning….

I'm sorry but "I'm so glad GOP won" isn't a liberal sentiment, even if in response to Linda Sarsour, who's basically the flip-side of the problem to Rubin. Another sanitizer, downplayer, legitmizer of another far-right. But somehow calling out this version of far-right apologist is ok!

 … I’ve seen her downplay the inhumane 'Muslim ban' that separated families. That could have potentially prevented people like her, from escaping the ME when they needed to. The idea that people around the world could be upset at the principle, despite a lack of their personal involvement... why is that so hard to grasp? 

  I'm happy to call out Linda Sarsour for this. But this is the same issue I take with Dave Rubin, he is masquerading as a liberal or at least pushing / doing apologetics for right wing conservativism, imo - And some people obviously prefer if you call out only *one* side of this. But sadly not only do they prefer it, they go after you in mobs, and try to discredit your entire being for speaking up on both.

My concerns of the easy slide to the right are pretty self evident. This is something ex-muslims are particularly vulnerable to, I myself have been courted by the right. But actively resisting it in the face of rising popularity isn’t something everyone can do. It's why I'm not too bothered about popularity. I'll happily take being less popular and more consistent. 

Anyhow, she’s used this whole dumping on me process to tag Rubin in a tweet…and whaddaya know… get a spot on the Rubin Report, as I had predicted! Prove me right, that’ll show me!

***

I guess it means that there’s not many of my views that they can effectively argue against if my critics have to resort to weird conspiracy bullshit about me not really being who I say I am. 

Imagine how stupid and risky it would be to make claims about being an ex-muslim from Saudi growing up under sharia and then to do a podcast series talking with people who lived there for real (unlike me)… about the details of life there. Why would I put myself in that situation? And if I wanted to make up my story, why not make up full oppression to the worst degree. Why this better compound life? 

@NiceMangos @AkiMuthali @SurlyCripple @StrictlySid unless you've lived under locally-sourced artisanal sharia, I don't want to hear from you

— Martin Mannion (@NataliasDad) March 30, 2017

Lalo know’s that I’ve seen my mother hit by morality police, he knows these experiences but still wants to question and delegitimize. These are the same people so disgusted (rightfully so) when Greenwald misrepresents Sam Harris. How are these guys any better I ask? If we cannot have standards simply because someone is Islam-critical, then we are no better than the Greenwald's we so love to criticize.

#NotShariahEnough 

Lets remember what’s really important here though... I am not oppressed enough. I am just pretending to be because it’s hip.

Thanks Yasmine! 

So being forced to wear a hijab can be oppressive even in Canada (I agree). But being forced to do so by the state in Saudi is just 'dabbling in oppression'...like life in a 5 star resort! 

It's baffling, it is.

But the only ongoing beef this crew has with me is over a difference of opinion on someone like Rubin or Douglas murray. Inevitably, if you probe their criticisms of me they end up around the fact that I don’t like Douglas Murray, that I had the audacity to have Sam on my show and do something other than talk about what we already agree on (yes, Islam sucks), that I had the audacity to ask Sam his views on or make him aware of what other prominent atheists are doing, that I shouldn’t criticize Rubin (no matter how much evidence I have) - It’s petty to go after bad actors on this side apparently. But its incredibly noble to go after Werleman, or Reza Aslan or Linda Sarsour or Glenn Greenwald. 

Opposing bad ideas& apologists for people with bad ideas consistently is ‘tribal’ & ‘petty’. Picking a side and avoiding self-criticism is truly rational. Heck if I thought that way, I’d never have left Islam.  (But have I really? how will we ever know?)

Yup, its the left that can’t tolerate dissenting views. Meanwhile Lalo blocked me long ago for having a conversation on MY podcast, with someone entirely unrelated.. whom he claimed to not even know… sure never mind it was known anti-muslim conspiracist who thinks Maajid Nawaz behaves like an Islamist. And Obama may have been a secret muslim. My questioning Robert Spencer so deeply offended Lalo, the champion of tolerance and rationality… 

lol.

And remember, I'm the one supposedly with 'mental' 'delusions of grandeur' about people having to align 100% to my views for me to like them.

Now we’re at a point where the desperation to discredit me for wrongthink is so evident… my criticism of Rubin, Gad and co is based only on what they actually say or do, observable facts, I am happy to provide proof for any allegations of them promoting far-righters or even to talk to them, but none of these Classical Liberals wish to engage with the actual criticism, and none of them want to talk to me.… So - in retaliation for my evidence based criticism I get smears based on nothing…and some onlookers think this is a tit for tat. It’s being framed absurdly, as an equivalence. Which I will object to every time.

Lol, I'm the monster for objecting to what Rubin does. Not Rubin, for promoting rape apologists.

And, this is the passionate defense Rubin gets..that doesn't even engage with the criticism of him. It's not who he has on, but how he talks to them.

Yes, my cunt-like overreaction after days of being dragged through the mud, consisted of me simply saying its 'bullshit' to equate me with the people smearing me. And not to tag me in such tweets again.

Imagine if someone you considered a friend and ally suddenly interjected themselves into a public smear campaign about you, simply to put out a false equivalence to tens of thousands of followers.And basically say, 'its not my problem'...so they're all cool. Well, I guess it'll be #NotYourBeef next time someone is slandering Ayaan, as well. I mean of course, if someone finds themselves caught in an awkward position, theres the option of just steering clear and not involving yourself. Which I'd totally respect. But if you're going to publicly say they're A-Ok after what they did to me, then I will always object. #WhatACunt, couldn't even graciously accept a respectful equation between people lying about me, and me.

I'll say this again, I’m criticizing someone who is promoting far-righters in an environment ripe with hate crimes (very much the flip of what Linda Sarsour does with Sharia/Saudi Arabia, etc.)…There’s a legitimate reason to do this… this is not about hating someone personally. It's as necessary imo, as this very group of people think their criticisms of Cenk, Reza, Linda, CJ Werleman are.

The attacks on me are however are just pure hate…disagree with my actual views any time. I'd welcome honest disagreement, but don’t lie about me ffs. As Lalo says:

The Irony. 

If I respond and defend myself against such baseless accusations I’m accused of being the petty one who just won’t shut up and let people spread lies about me. Ugh Eiynah….why so petty? Why can’t you just let people say hateful ridiculous stuff about you? The other 'petty fight' she's referring to below, is the previous Gad meltdown. Which consisted of days of him bashing me as an 'anonymous troll', 'Queen of anti-semites', 'plumpy pineapples'...because Jerry Coyne posted a pretty mild (evidence-based) comment of mine about Gad and Rubin promoting far right people like Tommy Robinson, PJW of Infowars. His meltdown is documented in this thread.

Anyhoo, I wanted to make note of this instance for just how crazy hypocritical it has been. Who knows where we’ll go from here…this is the ‘community' that supposedly values evidence but has few issues with the guy who legitimizes Infowars while crying that mainstream media are fake. This is the community that is constantly, (rightfully) upset at Ayaan being silenced for her harshly critical views on Islam, but won't really care if some from within are trying to silence ex-muslim views on the internal problem of legitimizing western far-righters. If you care about ex-muslims and muslim women's rights so much...you should technically care if the people potentially mistreating them are muslims or western far righters.

On paper many will have the correct answer to opposing the right wing hijack of criticism of Islam, but putting that into practice, gets met with resistance and character assassinations as you can see. 

They call themselves ex-muslim allies. Nope… just when ex-muslims stick to criticism of Islam, and serve a purpose… 

They are bothered by my anonymity now.. but had no issues with it for years when I mostly just criticized Islam. (They have no issues with more agreeable ex muslim accounts either). Now, I'm this 'divisive' person who won’t stfu about the Western right, when hitler salutes are in existence again. Let's stick to the important facts though, it's the left that's always at fault.  Misrepresenting even people like Richard Spencer. He's not a white supremacist, silly lefties, he's a white nationalist.

Rubin and Lauren Southern talk about how Spencer isn't really a white supremacist and no one knows the arguments against white nationalism http://pic.twitter.com/h0y06Uur4T

— Tom Bloke (@21logician) March 2, 2017

***

There are many offshoots to this attack on me too… so many ppl with all this rage uniting against me … its really rather sweet that everyone came together like this to pile on total lies, false equivalences between me and my smearers.

Right, I'd LOVE to see evidence of this. I once long ago said that mocking muslims as dirty for eating with their hands, is not a legitimate criticism of Islam. This borders on some real weird bigoted territory. And this woman has obsessively stalked my twitter ever since, despite being blocked.

I'm sure she has no troubling views or anything.

Lol, in this instance its not her, but others are clearly using it to get her on yet another wonderful, totally liberal show with no history of far right support.

Staunch A (from above screenshot) has residual anger for me, because I wrote a blogpost calling out an anti-migrant publication she worked for. Run by the guy who tweets this stuff:

According to Yasmine I smear everyone, even though she participated in smearing and discrediting *me* completely uninstigated. To them smearing is simply when other people object to their lies. When people defend themselves... its an attack. Ok then.

This is truly some detached-from-reality, totally lacking self-awareness stuff. A) Smear someone, sling mud. B) Post tasteless memes negating their lived experience, because u don't like their views C) Accuse them of being intolerant of differing opinions D) Accuse them of smearing *everyone* & mud-slinging, when they defend themselves. E) Say you're the victim in all this. F) yes the only reason i'm speaking up about her now in the middle of a smear campaign is because she's more popular than me. That must be it.

***

If I emotionally distance myself from this cyber-flogging for my crime of blaspheming against Gad/Rubin/Murray its actually a fascinating case study of in-group out-group politics... and hardcore tribalism from people who are claiming to reject tribalism. 

All they can do is think critically about pre-approved opponents Reza or CJ werleman, Cenk, Greenwald, Sarsour… if someone in their perceived in-group has the exact same tactics they’ll go out of their way to demonize anyone calling that out...

Charges against me

I said Yasmine was pandering to the Right and said she was an opportunist for using this specific instance to get airtime on Rubin. - provable through her own tweets, fb posts. Like seriously…she can go around discrediting my entire existence, post memes about me dabbling in oppression to be cool or something, and I can’t even in response point to actual behaviour I’ve observed, that might explain why out of the blue she chose to do this? As someone who promoted her, I think I can safely say she used me and my platform and publicly discarded me when she had no more use for me. I can’t even begin to fathom what kind of ex-muslim would say ‘she dabbled in oppression’ about another. 

I criticize Rubin, Gad and Douglas Murray - only ever based on what they actually say/endorse..not on personal attacks. Though Dave and Gad have tried to retaliate via personal attacks. I welcome disagreement with my views, and have offered to speak to them many times. But they avoid engaging with my actual criticisms and avoid discussion.

I say Dave and Gad pander to the right - how is this even controversial? "Mr. Why I left the left, let me work with Dennis Prager on how shitty the left is", and "Mr. 'Trump has the superior position on Islam', and 'let me get Geert Wilders on my show to piss of Eiynah'"

I’m divisive - sure only as divisive as anyone pointing out Islamism is bad and apologists for it are bad. 

I deflect from criticism of Islam - um.. nope? Have u seen my work? I just object to people using Islam to deflect from criticism of the western right. 

I haven’t been oppressed enough. - Lol 

I have not had as hard a life as people who didn’t live in a compound in Saudi - agreed. Never claimed that I did, in fact always have made this distinction, if u only took the time to look into my work, listen to my conversations with Saudi women.

My claim of growing up under sharia is untrue - Nope. 

I once said to someone in a Tweet i’ve only personally *met* about 3 niqabis - so i must not know much about oppression/Sharia. Er, no. Having personally *met* and sat down with very few niqabis doesn’t mean i didn’t grow up around them, go on the bus with them every day, see them in the market all around me, see them in every waiting room, community gathering etc, etc. I personally don’t have such a religious family, and we don’t personally know such extreme religious people. I’ve met a handful, and its really uncomfortable talking to people in a black mask. I’ve lived around them my whole life though, and probably had many insignificant interactions with them. But no, I just don’t *know* many is all. 

My ex muslim story is so dubious that even EXMNA had to reject me - Nope. Refuted. But not retracted, by Mr. Honesty himself. 

It was mean of me not to graciously accept Michael Sherlock’s public false equivalence of people who smear me and me, right in the eye of that storm. I said that’s bullshit, so its understandable he jumped to “You are the monster u revile” “You are a crazy cernovich conspiracist about Rubin” (yeah ok if u think cernovich is crazy, then u should have no problem with the fact that i think Rubin normalizing cernovich’s craziness, is crazy) and then “cunt” x 2. - I’ll say it again…what an asshole thing to do to a friend…I have not known Michael to be like this, so I’m wondering if he was abducted by aliens or something ? Or if my criticism of Rubin had been building up as some sort of anger towards me? I don't know.

I’ve said before that in Saudi many of us weren’t aware of the extent of how barbaric some of the punishments were - like of course we heard about public beheadings and those rumours circulated, they weren’t publicly discussed or acknowledged in detail because…as any idiot would know, life in Saudi Arabia is a heavily censored in many ways. One of the most censored and silenced topics is the violation of human rights in Saudi. This doesn’t mean I have no experience living under sharia, it means this is one of the effects of living under sharia ffs. Information is kept from you in an Orwellian way. #NotShariaEnough indeed. Where else do you live under fear of morality police, think sneaking around with alcohol (moonshine) as a teenager could lead to death or deportation, where else are you forced into black bags without your consent? Where else do you live life as a woman knowing you are a second class citizen. That if you are potentially raped, there is no real recourse. Where else could you  experience morality police canes? 

I once said this to a guy in very frustrating conversation, where not even this was as bad as sjws to him.   

which is presented by my critics as me saying all people who like or have been on Dave's show are fans of white supremacy and rape apologetics. Now if you actually read what I said, it says…”if you don’t have a problem with the promotion of those things” , clearly.. you’d be a Rubin fan… this is pretty self explanatory I think. But by now you’ve seen my critics aren’t very smart at all. Dave Rubin demonstrably promotes white genociders (a white supremacist conspiracy theory that builds fear about interracial 'breeding') and rape apologists unchallenged, laughed Mike Cernovich's rape apologetics off as 'Rattling Cages' ffs. This is one of the main criticisms against him. If thats fine with someone, or they are happy to look the other way because he serves some other agenda of crushing the evil SJWs who run the world…. then why would they NOT be a Dave Rubin fan? If you can overlook these things, yeah you'd be a Rubin fan. Im sure many people are Rubin fans just out of ignorance though, who aren't aware of the bigger picture or details of the kinds of people he's promoting, because he doesn't present these troubling guests accurately. In fact he presents them in the best light possible, as allies. But if you know, and don't find it to be a problem that's troubling. 

I hate that Dave Rubin talks to controversial people - No. I’d be fine with his exact same guest list if he simply challenged these guests on some of their disturbing views, or if he at least made his audience aware of why these people are controversial in the first place. Instead it’s a nodfest. This is very harmful, especially in this political climate. And has visibly made the atheist scene toxic and overlap hugely with infowars /alt-lite/alt-right audiences. I actually really enjoyed David Pakman's interview with Richard Spencer. He did what Rubin pretends to. 

I am somehow upset with Yasmine because she's more popular than me..haha. It certainly couldn't be that I decided I will no longer be silent about things I've observed about her, only *after* she contributed to negating my entire life story. Because those things might help to explain why she went after me like this. Also, last I checked I had quite a lot more followers, undoubtedly she'll get more if she goes the Rubin/Gad/Lalo route..but it hasn't happened just yet...so that too, is just false. I also said she was pandering to the soft right, not that she is right wing. 

Ok but with Brilliant arguments like this, they definitely got me here:  

Clearly this is a contest between Abu Bakr al Baghdadi and Dave Rubin. Because Jihadis will always be the worst, undoubtedly (and we come full circle from how this started with Fossa being angry 'I deflect from Islam')…I guess worrying about the rise of far right hate and extremism in the West where many of us critics of Islam live, is just silly and frivolous. Not like the US has stepped few decades back in the past months or anything. Nothing to see here. Promoting white genociders and anti-feminists should proceed as normal. 

Sadly this is the state of self proclaimed liberal twitter atheists, they resort to fox news tactics. And I'm not supposed to notice there's a problem. 

Why can’t I just pick a team and stfu with all this inconvenient in-group criticism. It’s tribal *not* to. Such a smeary cunt-monster cuck, Eiynah. And I bet you haven't learned your lesson yet, about staying silent on these things. I bet you think the resistance to this shows just how important this topic is to discuss. No ideas above scrutiny, freedom of speech, etc.

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How about now? Will you be quiet now? --- Nope. ----------------- Thanks to those who stuck by me during the smear campaign. Thanks to those who are real friends, and thanks to those who support my work. New Patrons and old. Much love to you all. If you'd like to support my work you can do so here

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[jamneuromain]

#yeah he saw them there months ago. it's your fault you have zero situational awareness lovie

fuck this man I swear he's going to be the death of me

(secret lovers but simon will not be kept a secret.)

you hadn't liked him from the get go. amongst the regulars that frequent the place you work at serving drinks, had been him; a burly, massive figure that commanded attention even though his clothes were nondescript and blended into the shadows created by the sickly, flickering lights overhead. his broad shoulders were squared, imposing, the fabric of his faded jeans stretched taut over his knees, tapering down to his scuffed sneakers.

him appearing a menace isn't what made him stand out. it doesn't even make him special, to be honest. one too many rowdy oafs call this hole in the wall a haven, seeking solace at the bottom of a thick glass.

it's the very air around him. it's heavy, muted, as if absorbing sound and movement. that one time you had the displeasure of personally handing him an beer, it'd felt suffocating, pressed down on you, made it hard to breathe. the stillness had been almost palpable, the usual hum of the bar nought but a distant buzz, even the clank of the chilled glass on the table had seemed muffled.

you'd felt the drink slosh over the rim in your haste to get away, retreat, escape. he hadn't even glanced your way and you'd been overwhelmed.

fucking hell.

and that's not the worst of it. the way he looks at people is unsettling. his beady eyes glint with a manic, rabid hunger, fixated on any bare legs that come into his field of view, as if he sees nothing but prey. that turns the discomfort that pricks at your skin into disgust.

revolting bull of a man is a pervert to boot.

(sometimes he comes in with others, 3 much more approachable, charismatic men that pop that personal bubble of oppressive silence he brings with him with their boisterous laughter and lively chatter. they're good folk except for when they want to act like your eyes are on your chest.)

so it's a true shame you spent weeks snarking about how foul he is when he's one of the best lays you've ever had in your life. (and continues to be.)

it's all discreet, of course. you can't be caught having a thing with the man you'd cursed up, down and sideways because he wouldn't stop staring at the tits you let him come on that same week.

you wouldn't even know how to explain how all of this started. that'd he'd been a surprised you and strong armed a belligerent drunk off the property for you a while back? that he'd happened to be around when your car got a flat, pulled out a jack from the bed of his truck and told you to sit your 'pretty arse' inside while he changed it? or that after the nth night of him being the very last patron, you realized he'd only leave after you were done with restocking and ready to close up shop?

you kept it all of it on the down low. pretended you couldn't feel his eyes on you, boring holes into the side of your head while at work then garble out his name through the fingers you're drooling over after work.

and it stayed that way for a while. he never stayed longer than you let him (not like that meant anything, he barely let you out the bed to pick up the door dash before he sat you on the countertop and lapped at your sore cunt until you came.)

he rarely used his phone so there was no worry about sudden texts while you had friends around.

it seemed a fine thing at the time. but then he started sitting at the bar top instead of his usual corner haunt, occasionally calling you over with a curl of his fingers (the ones he had you lick clean last night.) he stopped being a total lech, keeping his eyes glued onto you and you only, being so blatant about it that your co-workers offered to walk you to your car later.

embarrassing. you'd meant to give him a talk about laying off the intensity of his stare but it slipped your mind when he slipped into you from behind while fisting your hair.

when your boss is the one that gives you the stranger danger talk, even though you have said strangers love bites mottling the junction of your shoulder, you decide that enough is enough. so after your shift, you ask to speak with him.

only to have him snort in your face.

"don't think so."

before you get to say anything else, he's sitting you on the hood of his truck, legs hooked over his shoulders, eye level with your bare pussy because he'd stuffed your knickers into his pocket before work.

the first glide of his tongue between your folds is deliberately slow, tip catching the bundle of nerves at the top. your palm stings from digging your nails into it.

the second sends a shiver licking up your spine, his hands dimpling the soft of your thighs to keep you from squirming.

"look at me."

your body reacts instinctively at the low, grating tone of his voice and you're peering down at him before your mind can even catch up.

he nips at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. "best get used to 'avin' me 'round." this was no conversation.

the tips of his fingers grazing over your wet heat, gently prodding the entrance. when he sinks them in, scissoring, thrusting, you realize he's not going to let you come.

this isn't a reward. this is about to be your punishment.

slick glistens on his knuckles under the streetlight as he undoes the zipper of his jeans, the sound of the metal teeth deafening in your prickling ears.

simon puts his hand close to your mouth like he's done in the bedroom, and you spit on it, like you've done in the bedroom.

the searing (but oh so good) burn is both familiar and not when you take him to the root, a shuddering breath escaping your quivering lips at the sensation of him filling you until the seams feel like they're becoming undone.

he lowers his head to nose your sweat-slick temple, large hands flat by your sides. his breaths warm your throat as he speaks.

"i won't be your dirty little secret, pet."

a hand creeps up to the nape of your neck, claiming a fistful of hair. simon pulls a sibilant hiss from you when he tugs hard enough to ache.

ouch.

"can't shove me in a closet and pocket the key." he rolls his hips once, twice before widening his stance.

oh.

oh no.

"now be good and let me take what's mine."

there'd been no arguing with him before he fucked you in earnest, and certainly not after when he takes you home, spend dripping onto his seat on the way there, where he makes you ride him on the driveway, only letting you go inside once he felt he got his message across.

(message understood.)

the next morning you wake to sore thighs, a throbbing pussy, a dry mouth and a text from your boss.

i've got cameras outside the place, by the way. go home next time.

at least you didn't get fired 🥴