#and i know that whatever kind/amount of attraction i have is bi but whenever i imagine the kind of relationship that would feel most 'right | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

banashee · 3 years

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It's midnight where I am, which means it's technically the 21st already 😁 Hi Folks, welcome to my fourth fic for the Archival Pride 2021 project! Look at their tumblr for more info :)

@archivalpride

Archival Pride 2021, Week four (June 21-28) Prompts: comfort, childhood, research, missing scene, statement

The key words I've used here are comfort, research (and arguably missing scene depending how you look at it)

So, this wasn't supposed to get nearly as long as it ended up being. But I enjoyed wirting this a ridiculous amount, and I hope you can find a bit of joy, comfort or anything else you're seeking as well.

Please mind the tags and content warnings for this one! It’s quite a bit heavier than my other entries for the Archival Pride 2021.

Content warnings: - Trauma, Grief - PTSD / Panic attacks - violent canon death of a sibling - coping - Nightmares - Canon-typical violence - Canon-typical Clowns / The Stranger - Death of a loved one - Canon-typical violence and thoughts of violence - Past underage kissing between consenting teenagers (nothing graphic and very PG) - breif internalized Bi-Phobia in the past - brief mention of past Ace-Phobia - strong language - TMA season 3 spoilers, even though this story is set pre-canon.

Whispers in the Dark

The first time Tim meets Jonathan Sims is when he sets down a small cardboard box and a stack of files onto a desk. More precisely, his own new place at the desk he just got assigned.

Tim just started out with his new job and he smiles, even though he is barely holding himself together at this point. He hopes no one will ask too many questions - it’s not like he plans on telling anyone what made him seek out the institute in the first place. It’s way too personal, and way too much to handle.

So he’d lied in the job interview, spun some story about wanting a new challenge. Mr. Bouchard didn’t question it, and Tim would like to think that is because his CV and education are rather high quality, which he isn’t shy about. Not at all - he is proud of his achievements, and rightfully so. But Tim can’t shake the feeling that his new employer had looked at him oddly, like he knows something that no one else does. It had been deeply unsettling, and if Tim thinks too much about it, it causes the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up straight.

Despite his gut feeling telling him something else, Tim decides to chalk it up to nerves and his… Current situation, so to say. He is more jumpy, more paranoid than he used to be, which isn’t surprising. He has seen things, lived through things that he wouldn’t know how to explain if anyone asked. But overthinking it won’t get him anywhere.

So, he puts on a bit of the show, something that looks like his usual happy-go-lucky personality. Loud, brash, flirty and wicked smart, just like he always has been. It feels incredibly fake to him, but then again, no one here knows him. No one has ever met him before… Before. They don’t know. They don’t know . None of them ever sees him when the mask falls, home alone, in a house that feels too big and too empty with Dany gone and - no.

“Don’t go there, Stoker, just don’t. Get through the day, see what you can find out and go home. Get back tomorrow, rinse and repeat. You can do this.” he tells himself and plasters on a smile that almost hurts.

As he sets down the box and his files, he greets his new coworker and desk-neighbor.

“Hi, I’m Tim, nice to meet you!” ( “be happy, sound happy, god dammit” he thinks, then reminds himself that this guy won’t know the difference.)

The man on the desk opposite of him looks up from his computer which he’d previously looked at with intense concentration. It seems to take him a moment to catch up, then he nods and there is the hint of a very small smile on his face.

“Oh, erm, hi. Welcome.” he says, like someone who isn’t used to interacting with too many people. And maybe he isn’t - Tim wouldn’t know. He almost moves on and accepts that he won’t get a name from his new desk neighbor, but then he hears him say,

“Jonathan. Jon is fine, too.”

And then, as if he never said anything, he focuses back onto the screen in front of him and starts typing furiously.

“Thanks!” Tim says, probably just a tad too loud and too enthusiastically, but he doesn’t get a response this time. Okay, awkward. He isn’t sure if Jon is ignoring him or if he just doesn’t realize that he is being talked to - judging from the very brief, first impression of him that Tim got, both options might be entirely possible.

As the days go by, they don’t interact a lot besides basic politeness and the occasional question or comment about something work related.

The first time Tim ever really talks to Jon, is when he witnesses the man climb a bookshelf in the library like a fucking tree. No kidding. Tim blinks, and for the first time in a long while, he feels a real, genuine laugh bubble up in his chest. What the hell? He steps closer, next to the large, antique bookshelf that his coworker is currently clinging to, pulling books from a shelf that is over his head still.

“Jon, hi.” Tim says, watching the scene in front of him unfold. This is not something he expected, least of all from the coworker who never seems to say or do anything mildly interesting. So much for the first impression - the second impression is something entirely different, and it is this very moment that Tim decides that he likes the guy.

The sound of Tim’s voice addressing him directly makes Jon turn his head.

“Hi. Can I help you?” he asks, brusk and matter of fact, as if there wasn’t anything odd about this situation.

“...I was going to ask you the same?” Tim offers, mildly amused as he finds himself kind of impressed when Jon manages to shrug with his hands full like that. While clinging to the shelf, because what even?

“No. Why? I’ve already got what I need.” Jon jumps down from the wooden board he’d been standing on, and it is only now that Tim realizes they’d been on eye level before. Now… Not so much. They never stood next to each other up until this moment, he realizes.

He’s only been here for about a week, but whenever Tim arrives at the office, Jon is already there, at his desk and working. He never gets up for lunch, only ever seems to leave the room to pick up or drop off books from the library, and by the time everyone else has left, Jon remains seated at his desk. If he wasn’t changing out his clothes, Tim would have been convinced that Jonatahn Sims simply plugs himself into a wall socket to recharge for the next day. Or maybe sleeps under his desk or something.

“Just… You know what, nevermind.” Tim has come to the very correct conclusion that he better just accept this as it is. It seems easier. Much, much easier than arguing with someone over nothing, even though Tim feels like punching a wall or two some days. But that is not his coworkers fault, and he doesn’t want to mess up the chance to get to know him because he is cute.

Tim doesn’t even question this train of thought anymore.

At some point in between meeting the man for the very first time and… well, this, he must have filed away the odd combination of grandfather cardigans, chipped dark nailpolish and neatly tied up hair, combined with that deep warm voice and decided that yes, this person is attractive.

To be fair, it doesn’t take Tim long to fall for people - it never has. He just didn’t expect to spend any time really looking at someone, now that his life has gone sideways in so many horrible ways.

Turns out he’d been wrong.

Finding something attractive about a person, no matter their gender or any physical attributes, is the easiest thing in the world to Tim. Ever since he can remember, he has enjoyed looking at people. Tim likes soft curves just as well as sharp angles, and has spent many many hours of his life getting lost in people's eyes. Sometimes, he’d caught himself staring when talking to a friend, losing himself in the depth of warm brown eyes with specks of gold, watery blue, light grey or green with specs of hazel and anything in between.

Tim vividly remembers a game of spin the bottle when he was a teenager and sat on the floor with a group of friends and classmates. Of course, there had been many dares to kiss someone, and he had happily taken them whenever possible.

At the time, Tim wasn’t sure about himself at all, because he’d only known that he finds people attractive, but all everyone around him had talked about was if you were gay or straight, if the question was even asked. Mostly, they just assumed whatever seemed convenient at the time.

No one tells Tim about the meaning of the word “Bisexual”, or even about the word itself until he is in college. But he knows how he feels, even though he is lacking the word for it for many years

Once he finds out, Danny is the first person he tells about it. Tim calls him that same night, sitting in a quiet corner of the dorm as he excitedly tells his little brother that he found a word to relate to himself and his feelings for other people.

“There are other people who feel that way, Danny. There is nothing wrong with me and there is a word for it!” he tells him in a hushed but excited voice, fumbling on a loose thread in a hole of his jeans. Those trousers have long been frayed into shreds but Tim refuses to part with them.

His voice is shaking with excitement, and he may or may not be holding back happy tears. This is a big moment for him, and because Danny is literally the best - not just because he answered his phone at fuck-o-clock in the morning when his brother called - he reacts with nothing but support.

“I might have a few questions, but I love you. No matter what. I’m happy for you.” he tells him, and in that moment, Tim couldn’t be happier or prouder of his younger brother.

The game of spin the bottle a few years earlier was the one of the first things that taught Tim that he finds many many things to be interested in and attracted to. It taught him that he is attracted to the many different ways people feel, and it hasn’t changed ever since.

Over the years, Tim finds himself falling in love quick and hard with a number of people, and none of them are ever the same. Each and every person is unique, in their looks and size and voice and feelings - and every single one is loveable just as they are.

“You do have a thing for certain types of voices though.” Tim thinks, and maybe that is the culprit here, now that he is standing in the library of the Magnus Institute and faced with Jonathan Sims, who looks up at him with one raised eyebrow. Oh shit, has he been staring the entire time?

Before Tim can think too much about it, or god forbid, overthink it, he hears his mouth blurt out without his brains permission,

“So do you want to come to lunch later? There is a café not far from here that I’ve never been to.”

Jon stares back for a moment, like this isn’t something he expected. Truth be told, he didn’t. But just when Tim starts thinking that he’ll decline, Jon nods slowly.

“Yes, I suppose. Just… Let me know before you’re going. I tend to, well, I tend to get lost a bit when I’m working and chances are I won’t notice how much time has passed.” he explains, and this is probably the first time he said anything personal besides his name.

“Sure, no problem. I’ll just put a giant sticky note on your monitor.” Tim offers him with a grin and wink, and as he turns around, he could swear that he catches a real smile on Jon’s face.

Tim actually does put a note on Jon’s screen though. As he was warned, all attempts to verbally get his attention have failed, so Tim scribbles a quick note for Jon.

The sticky piece of paper is bright pink and obnoxious, and all that Tim has written on it is “Lunch time!” in big bold letters, accompanied by a smiley face. He manages to walk up behind Jon, stick it right in the middle of his computer monitor and get back around to his own desk to gather his jacket and wallet before Jon squints at it through slim, rectangular glasses and blinks a few times before he remembers the conversation from earlier. Then, there is a small hint of a smile on his face, very similar to the one Tim caught in the library earlier.

He gathers his things and leaves the office with Tim, and the two of them walk next to each other comfortably as they make their way to the café.

Surprisingly, the lunch break together isn’t nearly as awkward as it could be, or should have been, really. Jon doesn’t talk much at first, and Tim has a feeling he himself is talking way too much without actually saying anything, just so his brain doesn’t drift off into the wrong direction. But then, it’s like the air has left his lungs and there is a minute or two of slightly awkward silence.

Then, Jon clears his throat and asks,

“So, did you know that snails can sleep for three years at a time?”

When Tim, surprised by the question, shakes his head, Jon starts talking about the topic in great detail as he fiddles with the edge of his napkin the whole time. Somehow, this of all things breaks the ice, and Tim finds himself to be able to breathe a little bit easier.

Even more so, he is enjoying this. He isn’t sure what he expected when he asked Jon to join him for lunch. Maybe it was just the urge for human interaction and to not be alone, which he supposes is fair enough. But he certainly didn’t expect random information about nature phenomenons. All Tim knows is that he feels better after their first break together, and after that, spending the break together becomes A Thing.

What he learns pretty fast is this: Jon is an info dumper when he feels comfortable enough to do so. As it turns out, Jon isn’t very picky with his topics, either. They range from science phenomena to weird, interesting nature facts and anything else that catches his interest.

Tim also learns that, if he is in the right company and being asked the right questions, he can hold monologues that could last for hours. He figures that one out when Jon drops a fun fact about 19th century architecture, and without thinking, picks up the loose end of the sentence and continues,

“Oh, yes, did you know that…” and thus, without even realizing it, Tim spends the entire lunch break talking about it - he is passionate about the topic, but he leaves out the details about the Covent Garden Theatre. It just hurts too much to think about, but other than that, Tim is excited about the topic. He gets so carried away and rambles on and on and on, he only stops when Jon and him get back to the institute. It takes even longer for Tim to catch up and realize that Jon just paid for both lunches while he went off on a monologue about Robert Smirke architecture. But when he tries to pay him back, Jon just waves him off.

“Don’t worry about it. Besides, your lecture was very interesting, I didn’t want to interrupt.”

From anyone else, this might have been a dig - but coming from Jon, Tim knows by now, it is a genuine statement that makes him way happier than it should.

So, their lunch breaks together quickly turn into a tradition,

Tim isn’t entirely sure what is more surprising; the fact that he manages to get Jon to actually leave his desk for human needs like food and social interaction, or that the two of them are enjoying it so much.

Sometimes, they go to cafés or restaurants, trying out places that neither of them has been to before. It turns into them picking favourites, and then they become regulars at a small handful of places. Sometimes they simply go on a quick walk to pick up some food, other times they sit down and enjoy being out of the office for a little bit.

One day, Tim arrives in the office early, and he brings lunch from home for Jon and himself for the first time.

Tim has spent the previous night wide awake, unable to rest after a nightmare startled him out of a deep sleep. It takes a long time to get his breathing back under control, and very late at night, or very early in the morning, depending how you look at it, Tim gives up on sleep. After hours of useless tossing and turning, he won’t be able to rest, he knows from experience.

Cursing under his breath, he pulls aside the covers and takes a few deep, shuddering breaths. Exhausted, both in a physical and emotional sense, he scrubs a hand over his face.

The memories linger, and Tim feels like his whole chest is pulled together with anxiety and grief. Seven months. That’s how long it has been since he found Danny sitting in his dark living room in the middle of the night, crying silent tears as he had no idea what to do besides be there for him and offer comfort. Seven months since he followed his younger brother to the Royal Opera House Covent Garden and had to watch him being torn apart.

Carefully, Tim forces himself to keep breathing as evenly as possible. In - hold - out - hold - in - rinse and repeat. His hands are shaking, and he tries to force them into stillness as he grips hard at the rumpled bed sheets.

Attempting to go back to sleep is useless, he knows from experience, and so he makes his way down into the kitchen.

This house feels too big, too empty without the presence of his little brother. He left a hole in his life, and even though it’s been months since Danny died, Tim hasn’t moved a single one of his possessions. Not yet - it hurts too much.

Despite having been alone for a while now, Tim is still careful to leave the lights out in the hallway, walking as quietly as he can in the middle of the night as if there was still someone around he could wake up with his movements. It’s a long standing habit, and he isn’t sure he’ll ever shake it off.

It’s only when he arrives in the kitchen that Tim switches on the overhead light. It flickers to life, slowly, and the small kitchen is tinted into a warm light. Warm and homely, like this house once was. Now, it just feels painfully empty.

With a long sigh, Tim makes his way to the sink and fills up a glass with water - his hands are still shaking and he spills a bit onto himself, but he doesn’t care. Caring about it is too much right now, so he focuses on draining the glass empty before refilling it again. He feels dehydrated, but given the night he’s had so far, it isn’t surprising.

“I need a distraction.” he mumbles, and soon enough, he’s raided the pantry and his refrigerator. Tim pulls out some pots and pans from the cupboard, scattering everything throughout his kitchen where it’ll be most convenient. The repetitive tasks of cooking have always had a relaxing effect on him, and soon enough, the room is filled with scents and aromas that make his mouth water. Even now, while he is absolutely miserable.

The casserole ends up being huge. It’s way too much for one person, even one with an appetite. But cooking for one after being used to there being someone else is hard - kind of useless, while you’re already at it.

Tim has had that problem ever since he’s been cooking on his own, but knowing that Danny will be back to join him again, freshly back from some cave diving or urban exploration or whatever other strange new hobby he’d found at the time.

Now, Tim is all on his own. He sighs unhappily. Cooking was a good distraction, up until he is painfully reminded that no one is there anymore to share it with. Not here, at least.

He allows himself a few minutes of quiet greif, seated at the kitchen table with his head in his hands and a lukewarm cup of tea, sitting on the table by his side, almost forgotten.

By the time the sun is starting to rise, Tim is up and moving again. He has put the casserole in several plastic boxes and packs two of them into his work bag.

When he arrives at the office, way earlier than he usually does, because what is the point of staying home doing nothing, Tim places one of the boxes at the edge of Jon’s desk.

Jon seems to be mildly surprised by the early company, and even more so by the plastic box.

“Oh, Good morning... What is this?” he asks then, mildly curious.

“Lunch. I was cooking last night and it was way too much. Thought I’d bring some in to share.” Tim forces a smile along with the half-lie, if only to cover how tired he is. He needs coffee.

The “Thank you” Tim gets in response is equally surprised and genuine, and he tries very carefully to not interpret too much into it. Especially because their shared meal feels a lot more homely and strangely intimate that day. Getting takeout together or sitting somewhere is one thing, but sharing a home-cooked meal is something entirely different, he finds. He also finds that he doesn’t mind it.

Only a few days later, conveniently when every last bit of the casserole is gone, Tim finds a plastic box that isn’t one of his own sitting on his desk. Curiously, he opens it and finds it filled to the brim with homemade curry, rice and veggies. Even cold, it smells heavenly and makes his mouth water. Tim looks over to the desk opposite of him, where Jon is already typing away like he usually does, but when he looks up and finds Tim smiling brightly at him, he smiles back.

Something in his chest feels incredibly warm and fluttering.

One evening, when the two of them get out of the office equally late - Jon because he always does, and Tim because he may or may not have waited for him - they walk to the tube together.

In a spontanous fit of bravery and “Oh well, fuck it”, Tim carefully rechaes out until his own fingers gently brush against Jon’s as they walk. It’s dark outside, only illuminated by the countless lights that illuminate the shops and pubs and the sides of the street they’re walking along. Tim does so casually and carefully enough to be ignored or taken as a coincidence if needed be, just in case. But then his heart almost stops for a second when after a moment of stiffness, Jon accepts the offer and closes his own fingers around Tim’s.

His touch is light at first, but then his grip tightens a bit, warm and comfortably so, and it is clear that his heart is in it. Of course it is - the two of them have gotten close in the last few weeks and months. There might have been some wishful thinking on Tim’s end involved - Jon is not always great at picking up social cues, especially romantic ones.

“That’s fine though” he tells him later, “You’re a huge enough flirt to make it up for the both of us.”

Jon squeezes his hand, and Tim happily squeezes back as he keeps walking beside him, just a little bit closer than before.

He can’t help but smile. Something like happiness blooms in his chest, and even though they don’t talk about it the entire way, even though they keep holding hands when they sit next to each other in the tube, they remain this close all the way until their ways separate and they have to get onto a different line each. It feels right, and the sudden loss of touch as their ways separate makes Tim wish it could last - but turning back and running after the other train seems kind of silly now, especially since he’ll see Jon again the very next day.

This becomes A Thing as well. Touching, that is.

Holding hands, brushing along each other when they reach for folders or mugs or books in the library. Speaking of which, Tim has learned very quickly that there is no way to stop Jon from literally climbing high spaces to reach whatever he needs. As of now, he is long used to watching him scale a bookshelf or kitchen counter, much to his own amusement.

“Hold on tight, little monkey.” he tells him as he walks past, grinning from ear to ear, knowing full well that he can’t expect more than a scoff and,

“Oh, shut up.” as a response.

Tim keeps it up though - because it’s fun and he knows he’s allowed to get away with it. Which can’t be said for anyone else in the institute, not like anyone would have tried as far as he knows. But he is ridiculously proud of it nonetheless. Tim is still cackling to himself when he wraps an arm around the other man’s shoulders and keeps chatting away to him all the way back into the research offices.

He has always been very openly affectionate, with family, friends and romantic partners or those he’d fancied. It’s part of who he is, and if he is honest with himself, it feels good to have some part of him back that’s always been there. It helps a bit, and even more so since Jon not only happily lets him, he also leans back into the touch. Jon’s attempts at seeking out touch are a lot more subtle than Tim’s, at least at first, but he knows and recognizes it for the sign of trust and comfort that it is.

That afternoon, there isn’t much time to chat at their desks, but about an hour before they’re supposed to get off, a balled up piece of paper hits Tim’s hand, clearly coming from Jon, but the sneaky bastard isn’t giving indication that he stopped reading at all.

With a small smile, Tim opens the note. It’s not like Mr. Workaholic to pass notes on the clock, but then again, he has to give Jon credit for loosening up significantly since the day they met. Or, maybe warmed up to human company is more like it. (He very carefully tries not to think, or more like hope, that it's him in particular Jon has warmed up to so much. But then again, Tim has heard some of their coworkers whisper in astonishment that it’s completely unheard of that Jonathan Sims leaves his desk for breaks or in time in the evenings, let alone interacting with other human beings more than absolutely necessary. Tim also caught the rumors about the two of them being a couple - he’d almost laughed then. He fucking wishes .)

Tim unfolds the note and reads;

“I have a lot of leftover curry I made last night. Would you like to come over for dinner after work? - J.”

This has become A Thing, too. Sharing meals after work and sometimes on the weekends. It alternates where they go, but especially lately, they have preferred to go to either Tim’s house or Jon’s apartment instead of a restaurant. For one, going out to eat on a regular basis is expensive, but also, cooking together or eating the leftovers from a late night cooking binge is a lot more comfortable and homely.

Sharing a meal and oftentimes a couch with someone fills at least part of the void that Tim finds inside of himself. He is struggling still, but having another human being in his personal space, warm and alive and happy to be there, means the world to him. He’s feeling something again, something that isn’t constant fear or everlasting sadness.

They watch movies sometimes - it’s not exactly easy to find something that both of them like . Their tastes in movies are widely different from each other, so instead, they opt to choose obscure sci-fi movies or anything they can pick apart and make fun of. No horror - they haven’t talked about it, but this is one of the few movie-related things they are in silent agreement over.

Truth be told, poking fun at bad movies together is much more entertaining than watching anything the normal way.

They are stuffing their faces with snacks and complain at the protagonists for making very unwise or straight up unrealistic decisions, even in-universe illogical ones. They pick apart plot-points and anything that doesn’t add up while they share space on the couch, either holding hands or leaning against one another.

“Oh, of course, give me a break!” Jon grouses as he shakes his hand that is currently holding a few crisps at the TV, annoyed to no end, it seems. In truth, he is enjoying this. He enjoys this an awful lot, and so does Tim.

He laughs out loud and pulls Jon a little closer to his side.

“Yes, you tell the creepy alien why it’s mere existence even in this fictional universe doesn’t make sense, Love!” He eggs him on, and only realizes the pet name has slipped out of his mouth by the time he notices the deep blush creeping on Jon’s face. Oh shit.

“Now don’t say anything to fuck this up, for once in you life, just shut up!” Tim thinks to himself, carefully trying to remain as calm as he can. They’ve been holding hands for ages and they keep cuddling up on the couch - this isn’t anything unexpected, for heaven’s sake. Hell, if Jon were anyone different, they might have ended up in bed already, but Tim is aware that this probably isn’t going to happen anytime soon - or at all, if he isn’t entirely mistaken, based on the hints and observations. First and foremost the slow and careful way in which their relationship to each other is changing and developing, but then again, he knows what the simple black ring on the middle finger on a person’s right hand usually means.

Tim doesn’t ask though - he figures that if Jon wants to talk about it, he will do so eventually and at his own pace.

So, Tim doesn’t push anything and carefully waits for a response. But there isn’t one, or at least nothing verbal. Instead of saying anything, neither to Tim or about the movie, Jon simply scoots a little bit closer to him, leaning against him and doesn’t let go of his hand. Tim takes this as a win and leans his head against the tuft of long black hair that tickles his cheek.

Both of them relax in an instant, and if they end up falling asleep on the couch, legs a tangled mess and with the TV still on, well, the next morning isn’t nearly as awkward as it might have been once upon a time.

It takes Tim, way longer than it should to realize that, for the first time in a long while, he didn’t startle awake screaming that night. Company helps. It helps a lot. Just knowing that there is someone else, that he isn’t alone and doesn’t have to wake up to an eerily empty house anymore helps.

Tim doesn’t fool himself into thinking that everything will magically resolve itself - he knows it won't, especially because his research about the circus isn’t going anywhere yet.

Sometimes, he feels guilty. Guilty for not spending every waking minute searching for hints, searching for answers to the things that have taken his brother and traumatized him for life. The calmer, logical part of his brain is aware that it doesn’t work like that - he needs a break sometimes, needs the time to himself and spend it with other people…. And goddammit, he deserves to be happy.

Danny would have kicked his arse if he could hear him think this, would have told him to get a grip and do something that makes him happy. Because this is what scares him sometimes - the happiness, the times where he doesn’t think of the Royal Opera House in Covent Garden or circuses and… Skin. Just the thought alone makes him shudder, but he can’t stop thinking about those memories sometimes.

“...Are you alright?”

Tim blinks, not having realized that he must have zoned out. He’s still on the couch, slowly waking up and with Jon tucked somewhere next to him. He doesn’t sound very awake yet, but there is concern in his voice as he fixes Tim with a very direct look.

“I- yes, just. Zoned out a bit there.” Tim shoots him his best bright smile, hoping he’ll be able to chase away the ghosts. At least for now. He sighs, and happily leans into the touch and hugs back when he can feel a pair of slim arms snaking around his waist. Jon doesn’t say anything, but he seems to pick up that something is bothering Tim. And much like him in emotional situations, Jon doesn’t know what to say. So he remains close and thankfully, this is exactly what Tim needs right now. Just being close to someone he cares a whole lot about, feeling their heartbeat near his own. Being held for a bit. He squeezes Jon in silent gratitude for being there, and hopes he can get across what he can’t say.

It is Saturday and they have a whole weekend in front of them. After they peel themselves off of the couch, they stumble off to the bathroom after one another and then to the kitchen in an attempt to fuel themselves with tea and breakfast. It’s painfully, beautifully domestic.

While he is keeping an eye on several pans on the propane stove, Tim is chatting away about something - he isn’t exactly sure himself, except it is something pointless that distracts him from his earlier train of thought. Jon and him are laughing and joking while they drink tea and prepare breakfast together. But after a while it looks like Jon wants to say something, stops himself, and then more of the same all over again.

Eventually, Tim can’t watch him struggle over it anymore and straight out asks,

“Hey. What’s going on in that fuzzy head of your’s?”

It’s true - both of them still have a severe case of bed-heads, and Jon huffs at the question and tries to smooth down a few of the stubborn flyaways around his face. Only very mildly successful.

“I… Was going to ask something.”

“Alright? Shoot.” Tim very, very carefully swallows the joke he was about to make in the end - if this is going where he hopes it might, he doesn’t want one god awful pun to be part of the memory of it. So he waits.

Jon seems to be bracing himself, and then he turns around to face Tim.

“I would like to kiss you. Is that okay?” he asks. A simple question, and yet - it means so much. Tim smiles at him, heart beating out of his chest as he steps closer to Jon.

“Yes, I’d love that.”

There are only mere inches separating them. Both Jon and Tim cross the last of the distance at once, hands searching for each other. Their fingers are interlacing tightly as soon as they touch, and just a split second later, their lips meet for the first time. There is no rush, nothing in this world that would get them to hurry anything up at this moment. Slowly, they kiss again and again, tasting faintly of the tea they had earlier, but even more so, it feels like comfort. Maybe even a little bit like home.

A quiet happiness settles deep into them, and something seems to click into place. They are happy, and there is nowhere they’d rather be than anywhere, as long as they can be together.

After a little while, their hands let go of each other, but only so they can pull one another closer. One of Tim’s hands is cupped around Jon’s cheek, thumb gently stroking over the soft stubble while his other arm remains wrapped around him, hand resting at the small of his back. Jon on the other hand, has to angle his head up a bit due to their height difference, but he doesn’t mind that at all. Both of his arms are wrapped around Tim’s torso, and if it was possible, he would like to remain like this forever.

Unfortunately for the two of them, life has other plans.

When the smell of something burning registers with the two of them, they regretfully break apart cursing and laughing as they quickly remove the pans from the heat.

“That was - good lord, why now of all times?” Breathlessly and more than a little high from happy brain chemicals, they try to get a grip on themselves and on the situation.

“Just like our luck, isn’t it?” Tim is joking, of course, but still. The timing couldn’t have been worse.

“This better not become a habit.” Jon glares at the charred eggs and smoking pans as if they personally insulted him. He’d been having a good time, but of course something had to happen. Oh well.

“We’ll just have to make up for it.” Tim winks at him, grinning widely. He doesn’t mean much by it, and he only realizes how that might have come across when Jon awkwardly clears his throat and says,

“The kissing? Yes, absolutely. Other things… Well, most other things, actually… Not so much. I erm, I should have said that before now, I suppose. But, I’m Asexual.” he chooses his words slowly and deliberately, like he is trying to say them exactly right.

Tim looks into his eyes, bright green and shining with happiness, but now, there is something else creeping into them. Self-doubt, insecurities - Tim isn’t sure, but he wants to do his best to make the doubts disappear - and apologize for his big mouth.

“That’s absolutely fine. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that - I wasn’t implying anything else, I promise.”

Slowly, Jon nods, visibly relaxed now. He asks,

“So… We’re good?”

“We are. More than good actually, if you ask me.” Tim finds himself smiling again, which is something he’s been doing so much more lately. Then he tucks away a strand of hair from Jon’s face and kisses him again, just as gentle as before. He is happy to find that he returns the kiss in an instant, pushing close until the two of them end up pressed up against the kitchen table. After they break apart again, they remain standing in an embrace.

“I like you, Jon. I like you a lot. I love being around you and with you, just for who you are. Yes, I enjoy sex, but I don’t need it. So if you don’t want to, that is okay and it doesn’t make a difference to me. It doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

He nearly says, “I love you” but that might be a little early - saying it too early has ruined his relationships in the past, and although what Jon and he have is something different, Tim doesn’t want to risk it.

But as it turns out, he said the right thing. Jon looks a lot more relaxed than before, and he keeps a loose hold around Tim’s hips.

“Thank you, Tim, that’s… Very reassuring actually. I’ve been with people who reacted quite a bit differently to this, so” Jon shrugs, but it is clear that this isn’t a happy memory.

“I appreciate you.” He adds, and Tim pulls him a little bit closer.

“I’m sorry. These people fucking suck.”

“That’s one way to put it, yes.” Jon smiles, and pulls Tim down for another, longer kiss. It feels just as intoxicating as before. Then he tells him,

“And, just for the record. I like you a lot, and spending time with you makes me very happy.

The giddy happiness stays with them - being freshly in love and being freshly together is exciting. It is a feeling Tim will never get tired of. The thing is, being together with Jon doesn’t change a whole lot - they are still on opposite desks from each other at work, they still spend their lunch breaks together and Tim actually manages to get Jon to leave the office at 5pm these days, instead of late at night like he did for the longest time. They still have dinner together most days and they often spend their weekends together. All of these are things they did before, but now, it still feels… Different.

Then of course, there are the casually affectionate touches throughout the day. They’d like to think that they’re being more discreet here, but then again, at least Tim has never been shy about throwing arms around people or bumping shoulders or anything like that. In fact, people would probably get concerned and suspicious if he stopped doing any of it.

The point is: they keep it down to normal levels at work, but they seem to be glued together whenever they’re off the clock. Whether they hold hands, hug, kiss, bump shoulders, hips, arms or hands, or sometimes simply nap stacked on top of each other, they are always touching in some way. Both of them soak up the contact like sponges, and they know without having even talked about it in detail that they spent quite a bit of time lonely and touch starved before… This. Their relationship.

Waking up with one another in the mornings is probably Tim’s favourite part of all. Holding onto each other with their legs tangled together, hands searching for warm skin to rest on and heads pillowed on each other's shoulder or chest. Sharing breaths of air - all of this feels wonderful and intimate in it’s own way, and he can’t get enough of it.

Waking up in the morning is a peaceful thing. But some nights, unfortunately, are not. Both of them have nightmares on a regular basis. They find that they generally sleep better when they are not alone, and having someone to hold close or bury into when the lingering horrors hit, helps significantly.

Some nights, it’s Jon who startles awake in the middle of the night, eyes wide and chest heaving as he frantically looks around himself until he realizes where he is, or until Tim wakes up and mumbles quiet reassurances into his hair as he holds him close until the tremors have calmed down.

If they’re lucky, they manage to fall back asleep after a while, but if not, they simply stay awake, cuddled up under soft blankets and they just talk. Their topics of conversation vary widely, ranging from silly, lighthearted distractions to things they did or experienced in their past, as well as heartfelt conversations that are about much more than just that.

Tim himself has his fair share of nightmares as well, ever since he lost Danny. And even though having Jon close by and being held at night helps to keep them at bay sometimes, there are still nights where he startles awake either screaming or crying or both.

The first time it happens, Tim wakes up terrified and tangled in the sheets. His shirt clings to the cold sweat that is running down his back and his breath comes out in irregular, shaky bursts.

A dimly lit circus arena, old and dusty with centuries of dirt. Tim can’t move. It’s like he is rooted to the spot, and yet, his legs won’t stop shaking. He is shivering from the cold - no surprise, since he ran out in nothing but his pyjamas earlier, and this place is surprisingly freezing for a hot August night. Tim can feel the cold, but more so than anything, he is absolutely terrified.

He wants to scream, to run, do anything but stand here - but it’s impossible. The crumpled form of his brother - or the Thing that pretends to be Danny - sits motionless and hunched over, no matter how much Tim tries to call out for him. Not a single word leaves his throat, even though his vocal cords hurt from the strain he’s been putting on them. But Danny doesn’t hear him - can’t hear him.

From out of the shadows, Tim can see… Something. It looks like a clown, but it’s wrong. Too long, too folded up to be human. It drags itself across the floor slowly and grotesquely, like a creature from a horror movie, up until it stops. Unlike a movie creature though, this is very much reality.

Breathing is hard, and Tim wants to force his body to move, but still, there is nothing he can do. Part of him wants to believe that this… Place, this Thing is influencing his ability to move somehow, but then again, he might just as well be paralyzed by fear.

The clown moves forward, right towards Danny. As it unfurls itself, it is clear that there are smears of blood all over its face, red and bold and dripping wet.

“Shall I?” it asks, with a voice that is playful in the worst possible way. Too happy, and way too sinister. Tim can’t even answer, still unable to talk or move or do anything, but he can feel the bile rise in his throat. He wants to grab Danny and run, but knows he can’t. He wants to scream, cry or throw up, anything but watch the scene unfolding in front of him.

None of this happens though.

Instead, Tim is forced to stand motionless and helpless, watching in agony and horror as the clown moves much more quickly than he could have anticipated. It’s not as much that he can actually see the movement, but Tim can feel it. He can feel the breeze of air on his face, and just a split second later, it has removed the entirety of Danny’s skin. His limp, bloody and bare form slumps forward, and it is only then that Tim actually starts screaming.

He is screaming his head off, loud, desperate and terrified. Tim is shaking like a leaf. Breathing is impossible, and it takes him way too long to realize that in order to breathe, he needs to calm down for just a second. It takes even longer for him to realize that he is at home, safely in bed and long out of this situation. But Danny… Danny is just as dead.

Between ragged, forced breaths, Tim is curling in on himself, unable to register that Jon has woken up and is talking to him in a low, concerned voice. He tries to get his partner to calm down at least a bit, afraid he’ll end up hyperventilating from panic.

Tim doesn’t register any of it. He can’t make out Jon’s gentle voice trying to bring him back, doesn’t register the light, careful touch on his arm in an attempt to soothe without scaring him further. Tim curls himself into a tight, shaking ball without noticing any of it.

After the first initial panic, there is a brief moment of silence, but after that, he breaks. Ragged breath turns into uncontrollable, hiccuping sobs and it is only then that Tim realizes the familiar pair of arms slipping around him in a protective embrace. He uncurls just enough to be able to hug back and let Jon slip closer to him, which he does as soon as humanly possible. Tim clings onto him for dear life as Jon curls himself around him in what must be an uncomfortable or at least awkward position, but this is the last thing on his mind. All Jon cares about right now is making sure that Tim is okay, or at least, as okay as he can be.

Their bodies are pressed flush together, tightly enough for them to feel each other's rapidly beating hearts hammering out of their chests. Tim tries to focus on that, tries to focus on the carefully even rhythm of breath that Jon attempts to get him to follow.

His presence is constant, warm and comforting. Tim can feel his weight on top of himself, the hold of his arms around him. Strands of hair and warm breath on his neck are a familiar sensation as well, something he’s been getting used to lately. Even more so, it is something that Tim loves and associates with home by now. And while the fear and pain caused by his nightmare are still very much lingering, he is able to relax in order to calm down eventually. Slowly but surely, a little bit over the course of - he doesn’t even know how long.

Time has lost all meaning at this point. It might take him minutes or hours to breathe normally again, and at some point, Tim realizes that the steady stream of talking, besides the quiet attempts to comfort and assure him, are actually bits and pieces of random information. Anything to keep talking and keep up a steady presence, Tim supposes, but he is eternally grateful for it. He shifts a bit, arms still wrapped tightly around Jon, although he’s stopped clinging as much by now. He stretches out a little bit without letting go of their embrace - everything hurts from holding himself so tense for so long. Then Tim pulls the both of them onto their side so they can cuddle properly.

Gentle hands keep running through his messy mop of purple hair, blunt nails scratching against his scalp. Tim leans into it, soaking up the touch like a sponge. He’s stopped shaking now, he notices, and he registers a lot more sensations than he did before.

Little sounds around the house, wind outside, the occasional car. Most of all, he registers all the different little touches from Jon, and the way he keeps talking to him even now.

After a while, he leans in to kiss Tim’s forehead, thumbs wiping away a few stray tears. It seems like the worst of the storm is over by now, but Jon stays close. He’s never seen Tim in such a state, and it worries him to no end. At least it looks like he isn’t in severe panic anymore.

“Do you want to talk?” Jon asks quietly, but all Tim can manage is shake his head. It's not like he could talk right now if he tried. He doesn't trust his voice, knowing it will break, which is probably going to set him off again and he's not ready to face that.

Maybe, a part of him wants to talk about what happened. Sure, it is going to hurt regardless, whenever he decides he is ready for it, but there is no doubt that it will help to get it off of his chest. But Tim doesn’t know how he is supposed to talk about the horrors he's witnessed. Where would he even start? How does he explain all of it without sounding - well.

“That’s alright.” Jon tightens his hold around Tim as he shifts a little bit, without letting go, so he can rest his head on top of Tim’s. There is a quiet, almost suffocating sadness radiating off of him, and even though he doesn’t know what happened that got him into this state, Jon offers him all the support he can, in any way he knows how. Physical touch seems to help a lot, thankfully. That, he can do forever.

“I’m here for you. Whatever it is you need, I’m here.”

The sun is starting to rise on the horizon, but Tim and Jon remain in bed, wrapped up around each other just like before. Birds are starting to sing outside, even before the first rays of the morning sun tint the room into a low light.

“I love you. I’m here for you, and I love you.”

Notes:

#Archival Pride 2021 #Banashee writes #tma fanfic #JonTim #the magnus archives #tw trauma #tw death #tw blood and violence #mind the tags and CWs please

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profoundlyxbonded · 4 years

Text

Bi Dean ficlet.

I filled a (my own) prompt for @castielsgirl86 - Dean comes out as bi. It’s still meh, but I’ll leave the slightly reworked version here for bi awareness/representation week. AUish and the Destiel is only hinted at, but I tagged it anyway.

In the Bunker’s kitchen, Dean stood by the coffeemaker and poured the start of his second cup into his brand-new mug.

8:20 A.M.

Sam hadn’t appeared yet; neither had Cas, but Dean figured Sam was out for his usual run, albeit a little late, or maybe was still asleep. That would be a little unusual, but not unheard of. Jack was awake in his room watching something on Netflix or looking for cases and would show up sooner or later. Cas was almost certainly still asleep. Turned out the former angel was not a morning person. He’d only been up and around before 10 on a few occasions since becoming human.

Dean finished filling up the mug and walked over with it to the table. He sat down and sipped the coffee while beginning to think about breakfast.

After a few minutes, Sam walked in, going straight for the coffeemaker himself and putting the canvas bag that he’d been carrying along side it on the counter after a quick glance at Dean. “Morning,” he greeted his brother. He quickly took his own mug from the overhead cabinet and poured himself some coffee. “You’re awake early,” he commented as he made his way to the table.

“Morning,” Dean answered as Sam sat down opposite him. “Fell asleep early last night and slept right through until about an hour ago,” he shrugged. “You have your run?”

“Yeah, and shower, then I got breakfast. Muffins, and plenty of them, ‘cause Jack..” The Nephilim could get away with eating an obscene amount and had a habit of doing just that.

“Great.”

Sam just grinned, and Dean didn’t like it. “Sunrise bakery’s finest. Oat bran, flaxseed, and carob, so not so great for you.”

“Sammy...” Dean sighed, and scrubbed a hand across his face. “You’re a monster. A vegan monster.”

“Not actually vegan and you know it, just health conscious. They happen to have really good muffins.”

Dean scoffed and took a sip of his cooling coffee.

“New mug?” Sam asked, though Dean knew he’d probably noticed it, and more importantly, the colors on it already. Pink, purple, and blue. The bi flag colors.

“Got it with the mail yesterday.”

“Uh-huh,” Sam nodded. “And..uh..is there anything you’d like to say, Dean?”

“Nothing you don’t already know.” Dean said evenly. Sam had never mentioned anything, so they’d never talked about it like they were about to, but Dean knew that he knew. Still, it was going to be hard to actually say the words. “I’m... bi, okay,” he managed.

Sam didn’t say anything right away, but a small smile played across features. “Okay. Yeah, I’ve known. Only surprise here is you actually admitting it. I mean, DUH, come on, man...You’re not exactly cool about it,” he chuckled.

“Right,” Dean rolled his eyes. “Still fantastic with the ladies, though. But yeah, you’ve been there and seen me. It’s just something that happens. I can’t help it, so...”

“Sheriff’s Deputies in particular? Or just guys in uniform? Or with a lab coat and stethoscope and cowboy boots? Now that I think of it, cowboy getup is kind of uniform, too..”

“Shut up with the cowboy thing, alright. That era just happens to be interesting, okay?.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Look,” Dean said, becoming more serious . “This doesn’t really change anything. I still love women, and it’s not like I’m going to be hanging flags or putting bumper stickers on the Impala ...”

Sam smiled a little at that.

“It’s just that if I check out some good-looking dude or even flirt a little, I don’t want to feel ashamed or that I have to hide it from you or Cas, or Jack.” Dean shrugged. “It doesn’t mean anything else will happen. Not even sure if I’d want it to.”

“Okay. The only thing this means is that no server is safe from you now.”

“Well, with my luck lately they’re more likely to be interested in Cas,” Dean shook his head.

At that moment a still sleepy looking Cas came into the kitchen, wearing a new Pink Floyd Dark Side t-shirt and pair of Dean’s old jeans And damn if this new look really did suit him, Dean thought. ”What about me?” he asked with a grunt and a look between the brothers as he headed to the coffeemaker.

“Dean was just saying that lately you’ve been stealing his action when we go into a restaurant,” Sam answered.

Cas took his own ‘morning, sunshine’ mug out of the cabinet. “Action?”

“The waitresses and waiters hitting on you lately,” Dean said. “Man, what is up with that?”

“Well, it has been noted that I could be considered devastatingly handsome,” Cas replied as he was pouring the coffee into the mug.

Sam tried unsuccessfully to fight a snort of amusement as Dean shot him a questioning look.

Cas walked back to the table with his mug and sat down next to Sam. “No, I really have no idea. It’s a bit puzzling,” he shrugged.

“You were right, actually. Just objectively speaking, you chose an attractive vessel, Cas,” Sam said.

Cas seemed even more puzzled, tilting his head in a mannerism that had stayed even though he was human now. “I chose James Novak because he prayed for it. Physical appearance had nothing to do with it.”

“The consensus is you’re hot -” Dean said, but whatever else he was going to say was interrupted by Jack’s appearance.

“Hey, guys,” he greeted the group cheerfully. “What’s up?” He headed over to the counter to get his typical sugar loaded cereal.

Sam shot him a disapproving look. “There’s muffins.”

Jack glanced at the bag nearby. “Oh. Later,” he replied.

“Uh,”... Dean started as he watched him grab a bowl from the cabinet. “ Sam and I were just talking about something, and you and Cas should know, too.”

Jack turned around and looked with apprehension from Dean to Sam. “Is it something bad? Because mostly whenever you say things like that, it’s not good.”

“ Relax, kid,” Dean replied with a little chuckle, “No, it’s nothing bad. Just that,” he gestured to the mug in front of him, “I’m bi.”

“Oh, I know that term! That means you like both women and men,” Jack replied. “Cool,” he said, after a moment, and gave a little shrug.

“Yep, I do, but it goes no further than here, understood? I just wanted to be honest with you three about it.”

“It’s great that you felt you could, Dean,” Cas said. There was something in his tone that Dean couldn’t quite place.

“Yeah, it is,” Jack added, then turned back to his Cookie Cookie Crunch

#awkward dean is awkward #dean is bi #destiel #ficlet #my fic #sam knows

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adrrianraines · 5 years

Text

choose me.

—chapter i. | chapter ii. | chapter iii.

genre: romance

fandom: playchoices: the royal romance

pairing: LiamxMC (Riley Brooks)

disclaimer:

characters used are owned rightfully by pixelberry. all rights reserved. this is a trr UA (universe alteration) original idea storyline. unlike an AU or Alternate Universe, Universe Alterations or UAs are set in the canon universe, but with "alterations" to accommodate the plot.

grammatical errors, misspellings & typographical errors that i might have overlooked are to be expected. **also, my apologies for the long delay! thank u for doing the proofreading with me, @bi-cookie 😘

taglist:

–of course, hmu if u wanna be tagged for an update! for these lovely people who wanna be tagged in this mess, thank you! ✨

@miss-raleigh-carrera @sunandlemons @wolfychoices @juminssi @onomatorina @ao719 @vaticanwaltz @texaskitten30 @princess-geek @janezillow @cordoniaqueensworld @thecordoniandiaries @omgjasminesimone

Sometimes, the most scenic roads in life are the detours you didn’t mean to take. — Angela N. Blount, Once Upon an Ever After

Four rowdy guys stood outside the breezy New York City night, ready to take on whatever it’s willing to offer. One of them, however, was not as patient as the others.

“Who are we exactly waiting fo—” But when Drake turned with an expression that equates bafflement, he was caught in an loop of awestruck surprise instead. “—woah... You look… different. Wow.” Drake’s tone alerted the others, their gazes then focusing towards the figure coming out of the bar. Maxwell gaped before swallowing several times. He was able to regain his temporary immobility by nodding in eager appreciation.

“You look hot!” The Beaumont Lord blurted, totally unaware of his surroundings. One gentleman was not very pleased with this. Liam’s eyes narrowed, mouth preparing to reprimand Maxwell’s choice of words and behavior.

Riley, on the other hand, had a different thing going on inside her mind. Her prompt reply immediately silenced Liam’s attempt for words.

“Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself.” Her tone was saccharine, face producing a smooth wink which caused Maxwell’s cheeks to flush. Liam stared in shock at how, in an instant, the empty and almost translucent bars on top of Drake and Maxwell’s heads appeared then began to be filled with a shade of red.

Much like his own.

Now, how does a gentleman deny such an obvious display of attraction?

He felt a tug of pain inside his chest and the yearning that was caused by her absence grew. This was a reality in which Riley never met him yet but the longing he felt negates the rational thoughts he was trying to settle himself in. Liam watched how her hair swayed against the wind, how her lips curled into a smile as she conversed with the others, how she smoothed the pleats of her green dress as she straightened herself. Then, he immediately stopped.

You wouldn’t want to scare the lady now, would you? He scolds himself.

Riley’s gaze caught him. It was as if, all in slow motion, the wind got knocked out of his pipes, rendering him incapable of coherency. Liam carefully kept his mouth shut and pressed a smile on his face as he watched her approach him. His heart thundered while a million thoughts ran rampant inside his head. Yet, time seemed to slow down for them.

“Liam.” She called, her eyes twinkling against the dimly lit city lights. He was quiet, unbearably so, that Riley looked worried. “Are you okay?”

“My apologies, I…” Liam, who always was a master of his own emotions, did his very best to push the lingering tinge of jealousy at the back of his consciousness. He slowly reached out to take her hand in his to brush his lips against the softness of her skin. “It’s just that... You look breathtaking, Riley.”

“Oh…” Her cheeks flushed, and he almost did a somersault. Riley quickly recovered by teasing him. “Thank you, kind sir.”

“But the night demands us journey and you will be our navigator.” He grinned, letting his fingers brush against her own for a bit longer before pulling away. It wasn’t hard to ignore that Riley’s cheeks flushed red before clearing her throat.

He was pleased.

“I have the perfect place for all of us tonight. I promise you guys won’t regret it!” She says, and Liam, as the one who already lived through this moment, smiled to himself. He knew where exactly they would go.

“The beach?” Drake put an emphasis on the word as they all found themselves sinking mildly against the fine sand of the shore in a beach somewhere in the city. The moon was shining high in the sky and the waves were calm. There were not much people in sight.

“Oookay. Not what I had in mind, exactly.” Maxwell commented then stunned everyone by removing his shoes and folding the edges of his pants up. “Hah! I’m not gonna say no to this!”

Drake only shook his head and followed with Tariq in tow who’d been grumbling about how expensive his shoes were. Moments later, all three of them were splashing each other and laughing. Maxwell and Tariq were focused on attacking Drake which deliberately almost pissed him, if only he weren’t attacking them himself.

Liam removed his coat and slowly laid it down against the sand. He turned and urged Riley to sit with him, in which she followed without question.

Silence passed and Liam grew antsy. He wasn’t sure of how to tackle the changes that were beyond his control nor grasp.

“So pray tell, what exactly brought all of you here?” She broke the silence first, her gaze searching. He looked at her while biting his lip, as if unsure how to respond.

“I should thank you first... that was rude of me to forget. Forgive my rashness.” Liam smiled. “This was a great idea.” Being this close with her only drove him at wit’s end. His mind travelled to how he wanted to kiss her that moment. How he missed her touch. It took a good amount of self restraint as he focused on the more important topic at hand. “The guys are having fun because of you.”

“You’re welcome…” Riley trailed, smiling softly as she leaned in a bit.

Too close. His mind did a little scream.

Focus. He commanded. This is not the time. He knew better. Yet, his body move of its own accord, ignoring the warnings his thoughts deliberately showed. Easily, his hand found itself caressing the side of her face. At first, her eyes widened... then she bit her lip, and slowly... she closed her eyes.

The tiny string of sanity that was keeping him together snapped.

Liam leaned to close the distance between them, lips just lingering a few inches away from hers.

It’s not too late to back out. A voice inside his psyche reprimanded. And for once in his life he didn’t listen.

He kissed her and the flame in him, slow and deep, flickered alive. Their lips stirred in sync, mouths doing a little dance together. His hand now held the back of her neck, while the other firmly held her waist. Her hands gently curled against his chest, as if pulling him close. He couldn’t stop himself, not if he’s obviously aching to be with her again. Everything around them seemed to vanish like thin smoke in a clouded veil.

It felt forever. She tasted angelic.

And once upon a time, she married him.

When the kiss ended, they were both gasping for air. Liam briefly closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against hers as Riley let out a small giggle.

“That’s a first.” She commented which made him chuckle. “But you didn’t answer my question.”

Oh dear. He let out a soft sigh. Riley noticed the change in his expression and almost began to take back her question. Liam straightened himself, gaze never leaving her. She deserved the truth, much like how he disclosed the information the very first night that they met each other.

“It’s my Bachelor Party...” He breathed. Riley’s eyes widened.

“What?” Her voice faltered yet it was loud enough that he could hear the surprise in her tone. “You’re going to be married?”

“Yes. However... whom I’m yet to marry remains unknown.” He smiled sadly and she looked more confused than ever.

“I don’t understand. What do you mean?”

“The truth is… I’m the Crown Prince of a Kingdom.” Liam began and he carefully studied the different emotions that presented themselves in her visage. Surprise? Confusion? Disbelief? Amazement? It was all present.

He leaned back when she didn’t answer. “I have to carefully choose a bride for my country before the end of the year.”

“Wow… that’s… a lot to take in.” Riley’s voice trembled the slightest. “So, you mean to say that you’re a real prince…?”

“I believe so, if you’d like to humor me.” He laughed at how that almost sounded like a joke. But the weight of the crown always kept his sanity rooted to the ground. Riley was the only one who could shake him to the core.

A Prince must never let his emotions dictate his decisions. Much less a future king should let his internal turmoils affect his governance. But right that moment, with her features being illuminated in the moonlight, the sound of his friends’ laughter and the crashing waves against the shore rendered him vulnerable.

Liam thought long and hard at how empty he felt since he woke up without his wife by his side. The idea of losing his family churned his stomach into knots and the possibility of him losing her this time, albeit permanently, left a sour taste in his mouth.

“Liam?” She said as a tremulous smile graced her lips. The wind carries her voice to him. He gazed that it hurts to even look at her, knowing for a fact that right now, she isn’t his to hold. But he can’t not look at her, not when the breeze that came from the sea swayed her hair, fingers beginning to itch to hold her.

It would be so easy to close the distance between them once more, just to kiss her, and declare his love then. The heat of jealousy whenever he thinks of how mesmerized both Drake and Maxwell were with her earlier produced a writhing sensation in the pit of his belly. It was unbearable.

Then, Liam reached out to take Riley’s hands against his own as he whispered the words he never thought and couldn’t keep himself from declaring, “Come back with me to Cordonia.”

Liam woke up with a start.

There was a reverent knock on his door as he tried to rub off the remnants of sleep from his eyes. He swung his legs down the carpeted floor accompanied by a soft groan then moved towards the door. With a soft click and a twist of the knob, his eyes widened upon the visitor who made themself known in front of him.

“Bastien?” He asked, a bit confused.

“Your highness.” With a curt bow, Bastien greeted Liam. “May I come in?”

Still bewildered, he stepped aside and was immediately drawn towards the familiar decorations of his surroundings. His eyes immediately narrowed, thoughts slowly forming a riot inside his head. He turned sharply towards Bastien who looked as equally alarmed as he is.

“Where am I?” Liam blurted, almost as if he didn’t know where he was. The King’s Guard only looked at him, certainly caught off-guard with the question.

“...You’re in Cordonia, of course.” Bastien answered, voice firm with certainty. Liam almost toppled over his feet but he caught himself immediately. In a swift motion, Bastien was immediately by his side.

Cordonia? He rubbed his forehead, as if he was trying to recall the past events that transpired. He recalled being in New York—his Bachelor Party. Right! His Bachelor Party!

“Liam.” There was a mixture of worry within the depths of Bastien’s eyes and Liam couldn’t afford to provide an explanation of such bizarre events that jarred his mind. “Drake told me about this. What’s happening?”

“I…” Liam began, doubt lacing his thoughts. He bit his lip then shook his head after. “I’m quite alright. Thank you, Bastien.”

“Tonight’s the Masquerade Ball. The King asked me to check on you.” Bastien gave him a do-over before stepping back. “Then, I will leave you to prepare.” The knight nodded, though unsure, but proceeded to walk out. When Liam was sure that he’s finally alone, he slumped back to his bed, head hanging low, mind trying to remember the events from the night before.

Masquerade Ball… So, it hasn’t been a full day yet since he last saw Riley.

But why was his memory extremely clouded? It was as if he couldn’t remember ever going out with her. From his previous night’s memory, he knew they went together to the beach and had a magical night that was unbearably hard to forget. Yet, he wasn’t sure if they ever went to the Statue of Liberty. He wasn’t sure how their short trip to the beach rolled out after he told her he is a prince.

Something was amiss.

“Tonight will be the start of the Social Season.” His father’s voice - King Constantine of Cordonia - gently reminded him. The orchestra inside already began playing and they were only waiting to be announced. Liam squared his shoulders and nodded as an answer.

So far, so good. Just like how the previous events happened.

“I have an announcement to make, son. Be sure to be there.” His father said as they all walked towards the large ballroom doors. Not a minute later, the trumpets sounded and he could hear his father’s name together with his step-mother being announced.

“His majesties, King Constantine and Queen Regina!” The herald’s voice echoed and the grand doors opened. The lights basked the royal couple in shimmering glitters. There was a round of applause as he watched his parents walk together towards the center stage, surrounded by all other nobility present inside.

The herald stepped outside and looked at Liam as a signal before he nodded for confirmation. “His Highness, Prince Liam!”

He squinted at the blinding luminscence of the ballroom—ears tingling at the unanimous chorus of claps from what seemed like a hundred pair of hands. He walked and smiled to each noble who greeted him. Liam’s eyes caught several noble women giggling while coyly smiling at him, masks hiding their countenance.

He never expected to undergo the pain of choosing a marriage partner once more. Never in his lifetime had he dreamed of going through similar situations again. His heart constricted at how ridiculous and pitiable he was before he met Riley, nestled in all these fake visages. Pleasing and making sure to never commit a single mistake while being forced to marry for the Kingdom he was expected to take care with as much as what his hands could handle.

One by one, the ladies that were present to win his hand in marriage were announced. He heard a couple of names he knew but none of them mattered when he didn’t hear Riley’s name being called nor the house she was supposed to represent being declared.

His vision caught a few familiar faces in the crowd—Olivia, Hana, Penelope and Kiara. They were huddled together on one part of the room, then several noblewomen he couldn’t even remember and some other figures of Cordonia’s circle of nobles. He carefully scanned the crowd, trying to find the face he wanted to see the most. Yet, all were futile as most of the ladies wore masks for the ball. As what he could remember, she wore an ensemble of clothing so stunning it knocked his breath away. But to his surprise, no matter how much he scanned the crowd, he couldn’t find her. Nor Drake and Maxwell for the case.

Wouldn’t she have arrived already? He asked himself. Or has he missed the announcement? Truth to be told, he couldn’t actually recall hearing her being announced. He was that preoccupied. Yet, even seeing her in Cordonia back then was what surprised him the most.

The herald blew his trumpet again, the sound gathering the attention of everyone inside the crystalline ensemble. “The King would like to say a few words!”

A flood of shush echoed throughout the men and women alike as they halted their business to listen towards the esteemed King of Cordonia. His father beckoned him to step closer. Liam’s feet gingerly walked towards his father, unsure of why he was suddenly being called in the middle.

“My dear citizens of Cordonia, I welcome you all! I hope from the bottom of my heart that all of you are enjoying the festivities our Kingdom offers tonight. Truly, all of you are shining brighter than the stars in the sky.” His father, through practiced pleasantries to diplomatic talks, announced. The nobles slowly clapped one by one until it became a chorus of deafening noise.

“However, as much as my family would love to extend our personal greetings to each lady who graciously presented themselves for this year’s social season, the Royal family has come to a decision that would benefit the entirety and all the while, securing the Kingdom and its future. I, as the current King of Cordonia, do announce that we have already chosen the most suitable candidate for the throne.” There was a hush amidst the crowd. King Constantine took this opportunity to continue. “Hence, the Social Season for this year is going to be postponed.”

The sudden announcement not only shocked Liam but also collectively earned gasps from the people itself. Murmurs then began to break out as furious ladies expressed their grievances of the sudden change of plans. However, Liam stayed rooted, eyes wide and unbelieving towards his father.

“Ah, we would like to extend our deepest and most sincerest apologies. This is selfish, I’m perfectly aware. But for the circumstances that presented itself, we would also ask for the gracious support from the people of this Kingdom as we announce the chosen Lady.” Liam’s ears rang badly, breath turning ragged, gaze in a daze as he tried to process everything. “I would like to formally make it official that I will be stepping off the throne and... therefore, paving the way for the Crown Prince to be crowned as the new King of Cordonia!”

Everything happened impeccably fast, almost like a haze or a gust of wind. Liam couldn’t even process the information himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Queen Regina with a lady wearing a mask from behind the stage. Then, the two of them made their way towards the center as the crowd collectively gushed and murmured among themselves.

He couldn’t think straight.

He heard Olivia’s voice from the crowd, fiercely stating her defiance against the sudden decision.

“I’m insulted, dear Prince. It wouldn’t be a good image for the people to see their future leader caught in a binge.” The masked Lady strutted to his side, voice familiarly eerie and calculating. The smile on her face impossibly cold yet determined.

Liam’s eyes shifted in a frenzied manner as he tentatively took a step back in perturbation. The familiar blonde hair and piercing gaze cut through his facade despite the mask she wore.

It wasn’t supposed to go this way… it wasn’t supposed to go this way. His mind ranted.

And then louder. This wasn’t supposed to happen...!

“Here we present, the new Queen-in-Waiting together with Crown Prince Liam!” He breathed several times as he tried to relax himself. Then, Liam squared his shoulders and plastered the fakest of all smiles he could ever managed and focused his gaze ahead. He could feel Madeleine smirking by his side as she gently wrapped her hand on his arm, pulling him a bit closer to her. The herald continued to announce. “Please, help us welcome Countess Madeleine of Fydelia!” The herald’s voice boomed in an excited cheer as he presented the two of them, standing side by side.

King Constantine clapped his shoulder before breaking into an applause himself. The herald then stepped closer and bowed down before offering the microphone back to the King himself.

“Beautiful, indeed. The future of the Crown are in good hands.” The mirth reflecting on his father’s face was no match against the blinding chandelier lights. “I’d be more than delighted to share with you all that preparations are in tow and the wedding will be happening in a month’s time!”

A month?!

Liam heard the large double doors creaking, and when he tilted his head to take a look, his world came crashing down in an instant. She heard. Dear god, she heard everything. His eyes softened at the sight of beauty that was beyond his reach, dressed like an angel and the most captivating pair of eyes he had ever seen hiding beneath a masquerade. Riley was there, rooted to the spot together with Maxwell and the Duke of Ramsford, frozen and completely stunned in silence as much as he was.

Then, as the trumpets collectively played a congratulatory tune and the crowd of nobles slowly loosened up from the surprising news then started cheering. His emotions only screamed in pain as his thoughts wildly raced towards the lady that just made her grand exit from the ball just after a few moments.

Within the chaos of his own mind, the enclosed space inside the dance floor, the fast beating of his heart and the utterly problematic situation he caught himself into, Liam couldn’t breathe.

His hands curled into fists. His ears started ringing in silent frustration. He froze in place.

And when the love of his life exited the grand doors, he couldn’t even move to run after her.

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fourangers · 5 years

Text

Some bad porn can turn out to be good (1/3)

Summary: “Why are you watching porn on broad daylight and…is this…is this a blond guy fucking a japanese man?”

Who would have thought that porn watching could have such enlightening results. NaruSasu, blow job, anal sex, mutual pining without angst, Comedy, Romance, AU working in an advertisement agency. Some InoSaku.

AO3 link | ffnet link

--.--

Naruto was bored.

He already finished his very nutritional cup of ramen (it’s vegetable flavored, so it had all the necessary components for a complete meal right), played all the games he had in his smartphone and he still had more or less half an hour to kill. His friends were still busy with their work, the food court was completely empty and he wasn’t in the mood for a quick nap.

Wrinkling his nose, Naruto flipped his phone over and over, before letting it rest on the table, groaning. He was so bored. He already refreshed instagram like...thousand times and there wasn’t anything new. Same thing with facebook and twitter.

He took a long glance to the left, and then to the right. Moving to a table that was more or less placed at the corner of the room, he adjusted himself on his seat. Perhaps he could use this opportunity to relieve some tension caused by yesterday’s dream. After wasting long minutes browsing to fit exactly with his particular criteria, he widened his legs and clicked play.

⏤.⏤

Sighing, Sasuke rubbed his eyes while he sent his e-mail. Finally, after struggling for hours he came up with a good slogan title, also wrote some short texts to be used on smaller pieces. He was famished and his take out meal was getting colder by the minute. Glancing at the clock, he went to the food court with bag in hand, glad that it was usually deserted in that hour.

He noticed in an instant the bright golden hair from afar and his steps veered in that direction, ready for a greeting. However, as he was approaching Naruto, he saw those blue eyes very focused on whatever thing was displayed on the smartphone, probably some video of some sort.

Usually in this case Sasuke would just give a quick acknowledgement, then he would eat in another table. While he was circling around to pat Naruto’s shoulder though, his eyes picked some suspicious rhythmical movement from the video. This dumbass couldn’t possibly...glaring, Sasuke grunted.

“Hey.”

“HOLY FU⏤” Naruto shrieked, jumping from his seat. He almost fell from his chair, turning around, gawking in disbelief. “What the fuck man, don’t scare me like that!”

Sasuke snorted, now that the smartphone dropped to the table, he could properly peruse the content inside it. “I can’t believe that you’re watching porn right now.”

“I-I⏤!” Naruto scrambled to pick his gadget, resisting the urge to flip the screen down. He raised his chin in defiance, grumbling. “I was bored.”

“You’re watching porn while on work.” There was no way he was mistaken what he was witnessing, with the top plunging the monstrous cock in the bottom’s round ass, and the well-rehearsed moans and grunts coming from those porn actors.

“Not at work!” Naruto defended himself, in earnest. “It’s my lunch time, and in this moment I can relax and take some time for myself.”

“You’re unbelievable.” Sasuke muttered, stomach making pleasant flips when he realized that Naruto was watching intercourse between two men . At last, all his queries concerning the blond’s sexuality were now answered. With some positive and unexpected addendums, as he perused the video closer. “Honestly, why are you watching porn on broad daylight and…is this…is this a blond guy fucking a japanese man?”

Sasuke was actually mildly impressed how Naruto managed to keep a poker face, despite blushing from head to toe. “Hey, it’s a free country you know. I can watch whatever the fuck I want.”

“...hn.” Interesting how that dumbass didn’t answer his question. Shifting, he placed one hand on the back of Naruto’s seat, whispering close to his ear. “I can’t believe that there are really people out there who would have watched porn on lunch time, this is a first for me.”

Naruto glowered back, raising his elbow to widen their gap as he stood up. “Yeah well, I have done nothing criminal, bastard. ‘Kay, lunchtime is over, gotta go.”

Sasuke huffed, cursing himself for this momentary lack of quick thinking to avoid such misunderstanding. Next time, instead of teasing Naruto, he should have offered himself to reenact that porn video.

⏤.⏤

From the moment Naruto stepped in their ad agency, as corny as it might sound, Sasuke was smitten. Friendly, warm, an easygoing personality fitting with his wide grin and lively eyes.

His first impression towards other coworkers was vastly different though. Tall with a built physique, he had a undercut hair with earlobe expanders, leather bracelets, wearing a fitting black t-shirt that had a huge neon-orange skull drawing on it, complemented with a low cut shorts and a black belt adorned with small metal spikes. Everything about him screamed ‘Punk’, adding with fact that he had a gigantic japanese 9-tailed fox tattoo that started from his neck and covered his entire right arm, some piercings on his face and one barbell on the middle of his tongue (yes, Sasuke already pictured the tongue wrapping around his length). Naruto was quite an intimidating figure to say the least.

However, after just mere days working with him, people were quick to realize that his bright behavior really didn’t match to their preconceptions. He wasn’t one that shouted anarchy and burned books, but was rather the homey type that your mother would love to have him on Sunday lunches.

Once such knowledge sank in, a good number of suitors popped up from all spectrum of genders, much to Sasuke’s annoyance. There was a full-on investigation with some previous coworkers he used to work with, gossiping with friends and snooping around. There were many questions rather he was straight, or gay, maybe bi, all with inconclusive results.

Some rumors said that he was dating some woman who used to have a crush on him since forever, only to break up once he realized that he couldn’t really reciprocate her. Others said that he dated some childhood male friend for a very long time until it became lukewarm and they broke up in amicable terms. Whatever it was, he recently came out from a long relationship and wanted to take a break for now.

Sasuke could understand this, logically, comprehend even, and respected Naruto’s decision to cool down for a while. But as time kept passing by with soiled sheets, longing gazes, small crush turning into a Romance Angst 30 multi-chapter pining fanfiction, Sasuke concluded that, well, maybe it’s time to help Naruto moving on. Yes, turn a new page in his life, refresh, take a new path that it better have him included in this, hopefully as his new steady boyfriend in hand.

It’d be so much easier if Sasuke was only physically attracted to Naruto, not form any kind of attachment whatsoever. However, as he kept spending more time with this blond dumbass, he was getting increasingly enamoured with Naruto’s various facets. His genuine smiles even after he faced many adversities, his unyielding determination, his optimistic way of looking at life, everything.

And whenever he’d notice blue eyes clouded in contemplation, Sasuke really wanted to reach Naruto out and tell him that it’s ok to reveal the darkness in his heart.

Once Sasuke came to term with his feelings towards Naruto, it appeared he only had this simple task of asking him out, right. Well…the biggest problem was that Naruto was the densest idiot that had ever graced in his life. People could practically throw themselves on his lap and he’d wonder if they were having a heart attack or something. Sasuke himself had his own fair share of failed attempts of flirting with no significant results, that blond moron only thought that his teasing was out of friendly competition, nothing more.

Almost a whole fucking year have passed, frustration amounting in each day. For someone who was really talkative, Naruto kept his personal life pretty much in private. And even if he’s really expressive, Sasuke had a hard time reading if Naruto was into him.

In a last desperate resort, Sasuke tried to use their company’s annual party to get some answers, any answer. Whether Naruto was into guys, or he’s just a straight blond dumbass, or he had anyone he might fancy, hopefully Sasuke would gear this situation to more fruitful results.

Company parties brew all kinds of miracles and chaos, uncovering burrowed secrets, with many twists and turns that provided enough gossip material for a month. It loosens up any uptight person into the biggest diva in those party. It even revealed many facets of a person, as Sasuke could never forget how Sakura ended up making out with her supposed “best friend” Ino, occupying the bathroom for long, long hours, only to return both disheveled and flushed. (they began dating from that day onward) This was a good opportunity to get closer to Naruto while they both get drunk as skunk.

Unfortunately for him, Naruto, who was forever the 100% boy scout, promised the ladies to drive them safely to their respective homes, not drinking one drop of alcohol while everyone around him was getting smashed. Honestly, why couldn’t they ask for an uber or something; Sasuke wondered while he brooded between sips of sake.

At last, seeing Naruto watching gay porn, it seems that the gods had finally answered his prayers. Now that he cooled down, he needed to recalculate that Naruto might only be into Japanese guys, not him specifically. That doesn’t matter anyways. Naruto was attracted to men so all is fair game now. He just had to act faster before anyone else noticed about this too.

⏤.⏤

Slamming the door stall, Naruto sat on the toilet seat, messing with his hair.

Oh God, he’s so screwed, he’s so fucking doomed. He really shouldn’t have watched that porn video. There’s no way Sasuke wouldn’t grasp everything together and he’s really scared what would happen next.

Honestly, he wasn’t supposed to feel this attracted to Sasuke. Even though they work in the same sector, they were part of different teams, taking care of different clients and would only meet whenever everyone would go out to eat lunch or go to a bar after work, with some occasional short talk if they stumble on each other through the corridors.

In these pockets of interaction, Naruto was becoming increasingly fascinated towards Sasuke. Extremely smart, quick with sharp snarks and sarcastic humor, Sasuke might look unapproachable for most people, but he cast such alluring spell to Naruto. They could spend hours talking about any subject, from the existential questions to the most inane things happening in their lives. They had many points of view in common, also respecting their differing opinions even if they engaged in a healthy debate now and then.

And, well, like every art director, he was all into pleasant aesthetics and Sasuke was definitely included high in this list. Piercing dark eyes, smooth alabaster skin accentuating his high cheekbones, his face was perfect in all symmetrical proportions, body chiseled out like the finest Golden Ratio there is. (forgive Naruto for the momentary show of nerdism) He always stood out with his stylish clothes, posture lax but in a very cool way, with his hands in his pockets and chin slightly raised giving out a sophisticated aura.

It’s been a while since he was in the dating department, so admittedly Naruto wouldn’t know how exactly he’s supposed to approach him. Plus, he made up his mind that he shouldn’t try anyways, to benefit of them all.

The thing was…Naruto always thought that Sasuke was kind of out of his league, you know? He was way too attractive, too cultured with a high intellect that was too much for a regular dude like him. Shikamaru rolled his eyes, insisting that Naruto should at least test it out since the UST between those two were going off the roof but the blond man remained resolute.

…he heard stories. About how Sasuke never engaged in any serious relationship, settled only with casuals and one-night stands. So considering that Naruto was becoming more and more attached to him, he wasn’t sure that he’d be able to accept only getting physical aspect of this.

The solution then? Denial denial denial. Yeah, forget how much he enjoyed having Sasuke around, how it seemed that time stopped around them, and yet it would fly by in an instant. Forget about all the countless times he yearned to touch Sasuke’s face, feel the soft touch of his lips.

His sketchbook was getting filled with drawings of Sasuke and it’s really not his damn fault that this bastard was this photogenic, he also couldn’t explain the urge to be next to that brooding man, just so Sasuke would feel less lonely. But when he saw much to his utmost terror that he was now adding himself into these sketches, doodling him kissing Sasuke or some tender cuddling, Naruto realized that maybe he didn’t do a good job keeping his feelings at bay. His little crush was turning a little too intense to his own taste and he’s honest to God hoping he’s not becoming too creepy. Better burn those doodles to a crisp and draw harmless things like flowers or whatever.

But now, all his efforts he had done to suppress himself had evaporated with his slip. Most positive scenario was Sasuke not connecting the glaring points (very unlikely, since that damn bastard is a genius) and only teasing him from time to time. Worst scenario would be Sasuke actively pursuing him and Naruto wouldn’t know if he’d be able to resist him and then have his heart broken by the end of it all. He better get ready with whatever situation it might hold in the future.

Days had passed nevertheless and nothing happened. A week went through and there was no reaction coming from Sasuke. Naruto didn’t know if he needed to get more paranoid because if Sasuke was silent, he’s plotting. He witnessed first hand how shrewd that man could get, changing various clients’ mind to accept their envisioned marketing campaigns and he really wasn’t looking forward to be the next victim.

Interaction was inevitable considering they work in the same room, but they were plenty busy juggling with their tasks to properly chat on that week. This was enough to make Naruto relax for a bit, taking a quick break as he went outside for a snack.

“I don’t think he needs a bun. He’s fine with sausage by itself.”

“WHAT THE FU⏤” Naruto swiveled around once he heard the familiar baritone voice, as the street vendor winced from his loud scream. “Fuck man! Why do you have to creep on me from behind all the time?!”

“It’s really not my fault when you’re such a airheaded blond.” Sasuke muttered, while he asked for a cup of coffee.

When Naruto accepted his grilled sausage, he scowled. “Hey, and since when you can order food that was supposed to be mine?”

“I’m just speeding up the process so I can get my own coffee soon, and ordered based on previous assumptions that you like big thick sausages. Or am I wrong in such assessment?”

Sasuke didn’t miss how the bewildered face turned crimson red once Naruto caught the innuendo. Naruto grabbed his arm, hissing. “About that last time, I swear to God if you spread this around I⏤”

“I won’t tell anyone.” Sasuke answered monotonously.

Naruto loosened the tight grip around his arm. “Uh⏤really?”

“Yes. Don’t worry about it.” Sasuke turned around, sipping his coffee. On the corner of his vision, he saw Naruto’s shoulders sagging in relief, walking behind him as they went back to the office.

He made sure he memorized for later use when Naruto absentmindedly thrust the sausage in his mouth.

“Hm. At least I finally figured out how you’re able to swallow copious amount of food without gagging.”

Naruto coughed and choked in response. “God, you’re such a bastard.” He narrowed his eyes ready for a venomous glare but stopped at once when Sasuke curled an amused smirk. Geez, why did Sasuke had such an attractive smile, and whyyyy was his heart racing like a silly highschool girl? This is so fucking stupid.

While Naruto was having his internal battle, Sasuke was inwardly patting himself on the back for another mission accomplished. If this situation followed through smoothly according to his strategic plans, he’ll have passionate sex with Naruto by the end of this month, for sure.

--.--

AN: This story was supposed to be a pure PWP but then I was like "wait, I need to give a good reason for those two to boink" and this monster of a fic happened. Lord help me. (but still, I'd really enjoy if you guys will leave a review)

Chapter 2

#NaruSasu #snstext #sn fic #SNS #drabble #lemon

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accidentallyadrift · 5 years

Text

Credit Cards and Finance Things: The Good, The Bad, and the Honest Truth

First off, if you’re dealing with an annoying mound of credit card debt you’re not alone. I used to swear up and down that I would never get a credit card...until I got to college. It was just one, with a manageable limit through my bank, but then it was two and then a Victoria’s Secret card and a Best Buy account, Amazon, American Airlines. It got out of hand quickly and now at 23 I’m still dealing with the repercussions of irresponsible decisions I made at 19. But, in dealing with all of the BS that comes along with credit cards and paying them off, my friends started asking me for advice with handling their own. Which seemed...Bizarre? Now initially I would have told you under no circumstances should you ever get a credit card ever! In reality this isn’t really a practical thing, and here are a few reasons why.

If you have any plans to travel, rent hotel rooms or cars you’ll need a credit card. Most if not almost all rental car companies will not let you use a debit card when you’re renting a car. And if they do they increase the already ridiculous hold on your account and unless you have a major amount of liquid cash and you can stand to not access $400-$600 on top of your rental fees for the duration of your trip it’s a necessity. I’m often surprised at how many people don’t know this, the best man in my best friend’s wedding found himself stranded in New York City without a way to get to Vermont because the rental company they had booked with didn’t list that you had to pay by credit card and you had to be over 25. (Also age isn’t won’t always stop you from renting but it will almost always increase your rental price so check to see if there’s a young renter’s fee!)

Certain hotels follow similar policies, and at minimum it’s always a good idea to have some way to cover your ass if you find yourself in a bind while away from home. Lost debit cards, emergencies, accidents, or traveling for work where you’ll be waiting to receive reimbursement from you employer are all things you could encounter where not having one is going to make for a giant pain in the ass.

Different types of credit help you build a strong credit profile and no credit history can be just as frustrating to deal with as bad credit history. Credit Cards fall under the revolving debt category and help show that you can faithfully pay down or pay off a balance to a lender. They’re also how most people establish their length of credit history, which is a pretty large factor in your overall credit profile. Now, you don’t want just revolving accounts, installment accounts (usually car loans are where the average 20 something will pick this up) are even stronger for your credit profile and honestly look better than accounts with a revolving balance. Services like Credit Karma offer great break downs about all of this and how each type affects your credit scores. I highly recommend getting in the habit of checking your credit score on a regular basis if you don’t already. It’s free and it’s one of the first ways you can spot if something that doesn’t seem right shows up on your credit if you don’t pay for any kind of credit monitoring service. Having no credit history makes things like trying to rent an apartment or get a vehicle loan difficult. My current roommates previous roommate had no credit history or rental history and because that was viewed as a risk factor for the rental company their security deposit jumped to over $600 from $250. As for a vehicle loan you’re more than likely going to need a co-signer or co-borrower which can be difficult if you don’t have someone that is willing to put their name and credit on the line to help you.

Long story short. You need to build credit history some how, credit cards are kind of the path of least resistance to do so but I will say if you don’t think that you have the self control to keep your “emergency” card in your wallet for actual emergencies. I would suggest holding off.

Your bank and local bankers are excellent resources for financial questions and concerns! You can always go in and chat with a banker about your financial goals or to seek some advice. Debt, budgeting and finances are tricky and no one is expecting you to understand it all so use the resources around you and don’t be afraid to ask for help if you need it.

The best thing I can recommend is to be SMART about what you choose, stay away from store cards with attractive incentives. “But what about the rewards?! And the freebies!? It has to worth it” Absolutely not, this is just a great way to build up unnecessary excess debt, and trust me the perks don’t take the sting out of the 29% interest rate once you realize how much you’re paying back for your retail therapy.

Airline cards have the worst annual fees and ridiculously high interest rates, if you do want something travel specific that you can build miles up on the only one I suggest is through American Airlines specifically their Fly Now Pay Later program. This can only be used to purchase flights and has 6 months interest free financing on all of your flight purchases, you still earn miles and it’s tied to your frequent flyer number. Over all, this is a card I plan on keeping because it allows me to grab flights at any time when the prices bottom out because we all know that great deal won’t usually stick around till your next pay day. Just make sure to pay it off within that 6 month window and you’re good!

Really you want to look for a card that gives you cash back on your purchases, that you can either redeem for other things or you can roll back into your monthly payments. Personally, I have a Discover It card and although the interest rate is a little on the high side (which differs for everyone depending on your credit profile) it is nice that I can take whatever cash back rewards I have and roll them into my payment.

If you’re like me and are dealing with multiple accounts and trying to tackle getting them all paid off. USE GOOGLE CALENDAR. I used to end up with late fees because I would space a payment and not realize it till the next morning when that stupid late fee had already been posted to my account. I wanted desperately to be an organized planner girl that could keep everything written down but it just doesn’t work for me, and I have to remember to write them all in every month and to be honest ain’t nobody got time for that. My google cal took me a bit to set up but the nice thing is, once it’s up you can set it to just auto repeat every single month until the end of time if you would like. Every single one of my accounts is listed on its due date, they start out green and when I’ve made the payment I go in and switch them to red for that month. If an account is paid off, I switch it to orange and just tell it to change all the following events to match. Easy, simple, and no late fees. And since I get paid bi-weekly it really helps with pay mapping and knowing what I need to set aside to make sure everything is covered. 12/10 for the very visual planning type! Also, I know most banks have a Bill payer feature, I’ve just found that this is what works best for me. And if you’re like me and paying off multiple accounts tackle them one at a time! Make minimums on all of them except one, when that’s paid off move on to the next one. Everything is still getting paid but you’ll actually start to see productive results sooner. (This one came straight from my banker and let me tell ya it works!) Start with the smallest one and work your way up to the highest ones.

Going Back to Pay Mapping, this is a great tool to tackle paying down debt and keeping your monthly budget on track. This allows you to sit down and see when you have money coming in and when money needs to in turn go back out to cover your bills and where you’ll need a little extra or where you’ll have some cash leftover. I usually pay map for a month out from wherever I’m doing my budget. Starting with my current account balance, adding in my upcoming paycheck, deducting all of the payments that will be made in that pay period until my next check and then adding that next check in and repeating the cycle. So I can see if one week I’m going to come up a little short then I need to keep some of my over flow cash from a previous week in order to make sure I don’t over draft my account. It seems simple, and you would think that it’s just basic knowledge...but again I’ve heard so many times “If I would have realized that I wouldn’t of done _____ last week!” The best thing you can do for your financial mind set is to alway be thinking forward, don’t let that extra 20 bucks burn a hole in your pocket if you haven’t checked to see if it really is extra. Better yet, just move it to your savings account (which you should also be dumping at least $10 in to whenever you can...I’m still trying to get better about this one myself).

And if you’re on top of it and pay your card off every month! Pay it off before the due date and then a revolving balance will never hit your credit report. Having accounts that are consistently paid off and don’t carry a revolving balance is the ideal way you want to deal with having credit cards. It looks great on your credit report that you pay faithfully, your usage stays low, and your still establishing length of credit history.

Wow okay this got much longer than I expected it to be but I feel like these are like the financial FAQs I usually get so now maybe I can just send it on as a master post the next time someone asks? But if any of this is unclear or you have other questions I’ll do my best to answer them! Again, by no means am I an expert this is simply a collection of things I’ve figured out through trial and lots of error. So if anything learn from my mistakes lol and if there’s anything you would like to add feel free! I’m always looking to learn more!

Also, remember it’s not forever. It may be stressful and not very fun right now but if you keep working at it and you learn from it and you make sure you don’t end up there again. I know it can be incredibly overwhelming and it sucks when you have to make the choice to stay in and be responsible when all you want to do is go out and have fun. But, it’ll feel so much nicer when you know you’re doing it all cash and you don’t have to worry about paying for your fun at the end of the month. You got this! Now go color code your calendar and get that shit paid off!

#millenials #adulting #credit cards #debt #debt stress #student problems #finances #budgeting

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cammcharg · 4 years

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A film composer interviewed me...

I was recently honored to be approached by a film composer who wanted to interview me over a couple of drinks, and this is what they came away with...

Interview with a Film Director Cameron McHarg

Cameron McHarg grew up in the rainy, blue-collar suburbs of the Pacific Northwest. He has won the Gold Addy and Silver Telly Awards, and was a shortlisted winner for the Cannes Young Director Award for the commercials that he'd written and directed. His first short film, Kicking Sand in Your Face went on to success on the international festival circuit, and was later sold to cable networks in the US, Canada, Russia, and Ukraine. His second short film, the end has also had a long and successful run on the film festival circuit and has screened internationally. Cam has written two feature films currently in development set for him to direct: the 1970's motorcycle road film/crime/thriller - Sitiado and a gritty coming up age (Stand by Me meet Deliverance) drama set in the 1990 Pacific Northwest - Monroe Log. He is also in the early research phase of writing a crime/drama based around Apache gangs in the American southwest. Cam was recently featured in Volume 2 of The Top 100 Independent Filmmakers in the World, now available on Amazon.

1.How did you come to be a director/producer?

Cameron: I actually started as an actor. Then, I co-produced a documentary that ended up doing well and I earned a scholarship to attend the prestigious film program at Art Center College of Design In Pasadena. Besides, I was at a point where I just hated the idea of sort of waiting for someone to choose me. I hated that powerlessness. And I have always loved the whole process of movie-making. Whenever I did work as an actor I was very fascinated and interested by the entire process and I thought that would help me work my own way in without having that hopeless feeling anymore. I hoped I could mix the best of both worlds. And that’s how I got into it initially.

2. What qualities do you look for when hiring a composer for your project? Is there one quality or thing that will get you to consider someone more than others?

Cameron: It might sound like a strange answer, but since I am not a musician myself, all I can do is to abstractly describe feelings, moods, atmospheres; my musical vocabulary is limited. That’s how I would describe things anyway, even to actors. When I talk to a composer I would try to explain what I am looking for that way and if they could get what I am going after from just my description- that’s huge. I think it’s a difficult thing to understand. It’s like going to a hairdresser and you sit down and say: “I don’t know..I just want to look good.” If I can talk to a composer and stumble around just like I am doing now trying to describe the concept of the story and what I am trying to make it feel, and they can come back with something (and it does not have to be perfect, we can make adjustments) and really get it.. It’s not necessarily listening to the composer’s music and going: “Great!” It’s more about their ability to understand what I am trying to go for in a story: the mood, the feeling rather than a rational idea. A composer who is technically great and talented might not be enough. Someone with a sensitive soul would be a better fit.

3. In your opinion, is it more important for a composer to have a unique musical voice consistent in all of their work? Or is it important for the composer to have a broad range of compositional ability to draw from so they will likely be able to adapt to what the project needs stylistically in any given scene / scenario?

Cameron: I would lean towards the former than the latter. I think a lot of people can be very technically proficient doing a lot of different things, but people who have their own specific life experience and their unique background bring something very special to the table, that no one else can do, maybe. And I am more attracted to that. It’s true for me personally. I would be the same way about an actor. Again, it goes back to communication. If a composer can really get me..I would rather choose that over someone who can sort of do a little bit of everything. I think there is something beautiful about it. It is such a collaboration, there are not a lot of differences between an actor and a composer or anybody else. If you throw these ingredients into the mix, various artists that have that specific background instead of a bunch of technicians that are generally good at a lot of things, I think it’s going to be more colorful, there’s going to be more to it.

4. What do you want to see / hear in a demo cue from a composer? Something custom made for your project? Something from other projects in a composer's past that might be similar? Live recordings? Are MIDI sampled recordings ok? What format do you want any demo material in? (Audio CD, flash drive with audio files, video files so you can see how well the composer scores to picture, etc...)

Cameron: Ideally, it would be great to hear something custom, again, it goes back to this topic: I would like to see if the composer can understand what I am trying to do. Of course, I would be curious about what has been done before to get a feel for things. I will get back to that example again. We are all just collaborators trying to make a movie, we are just pieces of one big puzzle, and we are equal pieces. I hate auditioning actors, I would rather meet people and get a feel for them, I would want to see what they have done before, but it is more about mutual understanding and connection, trying to scope this movies together. To answer your question, ultimately, it would be nice to hear a shot of something that’s for the particular movie. It does not matter that much to me whether it’s live recordings or samples, it’s irrelevant. Video is not necessary, I would even listen to it with my eyes closed, I don’t need to see anything. It is not as important to me as getting that feel. But it’s me, I might be particular.

5. How do you budget for the music in a film? Do you determine score costs ahead of time based on the kind of score you want or is it based on a flat percentage of the film's budget? How do you determine what a composer's involvement is worth on your project?

Cameron: I hate the business aspect of it so much. I see a composer as important as anybody else. The composer is probably the most unrecognized artist in the film business. I think that if the music is good you don't even notice it, oddly enough. It’s similar to editing in this respect, if you do notice it- the editor might be doing something wrong. I just recognize them as being unsung heroes. I don’t know how to budget for it, I’d say it is usually a flat percentage of the film’s budget.

6. What is your opinion on a composer working for little to no monetary compensation (i.e. for free)? Many entertainment industry departments have union representation that sets a minimum pay "standard" for what those jobs cost from week-to-week or day-to-day. But composers do not have and can not unionize by a National Labor Relations Board decision from the early 1980s. Does this affect at all your hiring or budgeting process for music? What is the lowest budget amount you have ever had for music score? What is the highest amount?

Cameron: It’s so messed up. So many of us are asked to work for free and I’ve done it many times, as an actor particularly. The only exception to it if everybody is doing the film for free. I have done short films where everybody was paid next to nothing and the ultimate goal for us was to make something we are proud of to use it as a showcase. But nobody makes money off of short films anyway. If you are making a feature where somebody is going to profit off of it, it is an outrage if you are asked to work for free, everybody should be compensated. What you are doing is worth something and there should be no shame in asking to be compensated, because you are bringing something valuable to the table that no one else can do. And if there is a producer who is going to make a dime off of it, or anybody else, they should share. The lowest budget: I’ll start with zero, which I had to deal with more than once. The highest -is the film I am doing right now that is in the early stages of pre-production. The budget is small- around $1M dollars and I don’t know the exact numbers but it would the same as we would pay to the DP.

7. How do you communicate with your composer regarding the creative process? What can the composer do to make that easier for you as a producer / director?

Cameron: We’ve touched on this a little bit earlier: I can do odd things to try to communicate what it is I want. I would do clips from other movies, paintings, photos, sometimes other music but not usually, because I don’t want that to taint it. Sometimes in my description I’ll make weird sound effects. I can be so abstract and weird about it, I’ll do whatever it takes to describe it - I would even show odd symbols. In some ways I don’t like it to be super literal so that the composer, the artist, could interpret it in his own way. Going back to the actors, as a director, I would never tell an actor how to read the line ( “Do it like this”..) for him to copy that. I would say something more abstract: “Do it more red!” I would want them to interpret the feelings in their own way rather than me being a puppet master. Same with a composer: I would give you a certain feeling, atmosphere and see how that is colored through you. That’s where special stuff comes from. Anybody can imitate but what's the point? I want you to do it because there is something special about you. There is something I want to communicate through the prism of your perception. I am fishing for a surprise. I am not a dictatorial director, I am a collaborative director.

8. Is it a more important perception for a young composer to have credits assisting other "big name" composers on "big name" films even if their jobs and responsibilities on those films were more technical and nondescript like "scoring assistant" or "midi programmer"? Or is it a more important perception for a composer to have a list of feature films where they were the department head "composer" in charge and 100% responsible for music, even if those films were smaller, indie, "festival bound" projects that may not have had mass public appeal?

Cameron: I would definitely lean towards the latter. I would be intrigued if they were mentored by some big-name composers on a big movie that I have respect for, I would definitely be curious to see what they can do. But being involved in a big Hollywood movie does not mean much to me. I think that the pendulum swings back and forth and things change, but right now I am not impressed with Hollywood movies, and there are always exceptions, but right now I think they are in a bad place. There are a lot of movies with guys in capes and tights and that’s fun, I can have fun with it too, I love all kinds of movies, but it’s not what I came in to movies myself to do. I was influenced a lot by the stuff from the 70’s that was a whole different ball game. The films were much smaller and centered on people. I would be drawn to something that is more personal on a smaller level then something more peripheral on a bigger scale.

9. Have you ever had a bad experience with a composer? Did you learn anything from that? Has it affected how you work with a composer since?

Cameron: I haven’t. I’ve had experiences where on the first try or two, after I have done my best, probably clumsily, to communicate what I was going for, I ended up really having misses. And I felt a little bit frustrated, feeling that it was going to be tough, but we got there eventually. I think, if I had a really bad experience with someone, it would be more my fault then theirs. I think it would be my failure to communicate what I was trying to do, it would be my responsibility. I remember it was over the phone, the composer was in New York. I did not show any examples. The music that I wanted did not have anything to do with real instruments, it was more atmospheric. I tried to give him mood and imitate the sound with my mouth. As a result, I was frustrated with myself since I failed to communicate what I wanted.

10. From your perspective as a producer / director, what is the one piece of advice you would give a young composer working to build their career in this industry?

Cameron: I think it’s difficult and even unfair, with some rare exceptions, for a young artist to have a lot of expectations thrust upon them, whether it’s from themselves or the outside world, because it is hard to really give everything that you are capable to offer until you really know yourself. It often comes with time, unfortunately, with a little bit of age and life experience, and exposure to life. So, give yourself a chance, be patient and kind to yourself and allow yourself to experience everything life has to offer, including the stuff that’s painful; take it as a gift, use it. Don’t put a timeline on yourself, live your life, don’t put a bubble around yourself: “I am a composer, a musician, all I’m going to do is write music”. Allow yourself to be exposed to life, try to really live it, don’t isolate yourself, let everything in life color you and color your work. Never quit, have faith that when you are ready the time will come.

I have had nothing but composers contact me over the years. I don’t mind it, I actually look at their stuff and listen to it. I understand it’s a hustle, I have done it as an actor. I think it’s smart, because you know what, I will go back; I am doing a feature early next year and these guys that are emailing me are on my mind. I’ll listen to their stuff first before I do any search. I think there’s value in that. You have to be smart about it, of course, don’t email me every week.

And lastly, own what’s special about you and don’t try to be everything. Figure out who you are and really own and market that rather than trying to be like everyone else.

#interview #conversation #blog #film composer #director #filmmaker #Cameron McHarg

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lianors · 5 years

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FOURTH CHALLENGE — character personality tests for lianor montagu: (4/12)

wc: 1,592 / points earned (thus far): 20

tw: light mention of abusive parental relationship; sexuality discourse (with mentions of: religion, homophobia, internalized misogyny and traditional gender roles); a ridiculous shitload of word vomiting without proofread yike !

1 — creepiest thing about you

𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖚𝖑𝖙𝖘: you are a disturbing control freak — caring for people and things does not work the way you think it does. you are so invested in making sure that everything around you is perfect that instead of showing you care, you plan and control without asking for any input (which, of course, you justify by telling yourself that you aren’t burdening anyone else with extra work). you call this “dedication,” but it’s not - it’s needing personal control so badly that you’ve confused it for real connection — which is not really a great quality in a friend, but a very helpful quality in an aspiring serial killer.

𝖆𝖈𝖈𝖚𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖞: i remember when this challenge first came out -- lmao why am i such a sloth -- i wrote an intricate, awed response at this result, but my computer turned off on itself so i guess i gotta content with this whatever lmao.

anyhow, incrediblé. i believe i have touched on the controlling nature lianor has in her -- it is born from her own mother’s, how the woman had wanted her daughter to be a puppet from a tender age; not to displease beatriz, lia was to assure just that. she easily became a sort of dominating figure in the welsh nursery, gently advising and guiding the royal kids to do her way, which is the right way. unlike her mother, she knew honey would catch more flies than vinegar (a mantra she tries to live by whenever ugly, awfully humane sentiments rush through her) and, thus, lianor continues pulling strings quietly, with a caress there, a gentle word here.

she grows impatient and vexed as her powers begin to fade on people, and now that she’s older, she more actively struggles against being controlled by others, though she is wise enough to know that, as a woman, in many situations she just will not have control and she must bow her head and follow. still, she tries to manipulate the outcome to favor her in some way, even if it is a minuscule silver lining she clings to in order to maintain her sanity and her illusion of power.

2 — four temperaments

𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖚𝖑𝖙𝖘: your temperament is phlegmatic (15) — the phlegmatic temperament is fundamentally relaxed and quiet, ranging from warmly attentive to lazily sluggish. phlegmatics tend to be content with themselves and are kind. they are accepting and affectionate. they may be receptive and shy and often prefer stability to uncertainty and change. they are consistent, relaxed, calm, rational, curious, and observant, qualities that make them good administrators. they can also be passive-aggressive.

𝖆𝖈𝖈𝖚𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖞: let me just say, i took this test on my first week portraying lia and i got a tie between sanguine and melancholic -- who is lying then?? are you telling me i’ve grown her enough for that to change??? fight me!! but hey at least sanguine and melancholic tied again, only two points behind phlegmatic so!!!

dumbassery aside, i guess this makes sense. as i usually take most of these tests as i am building my muse, i base their behavior on these results as much as the muse that flows through me on the day i am writing, but i think it’s silly to deny this result just for the sake of being a hater -- especially when the phlegmatic result does fit her: lianor is not particularly lazy, as her anxiety and fear of becoming useless makes that an inability, but if she does allow herself a time off, there is little she would really want to do other than partaking in that noble girl lying on a ottoman couch fantasy!

more importantly, she is definitely on the quiet side, and kindness and warmth are traits she intends to display and, though i haven’t said it outright, i believe it can be assumed rightfully so that she is a good administrator, with a good head for finances and overall stability over risk.

3 — tea type

𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖚𝖑𝖙𝖘: chamomile tea — you are a warm blanket in the form of a human. you’re welcoming and comforting, and loved ones know they can turn to you when they need a hug or a soothing word. you appreciate the cozy things in life, like wrapping up in a blanket and listening to the rain. in a world full aggression, competition and noise, you believe there’s bravery in being soft.

𝖆𝖈𝖈𝖚𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖞: reading this blurb makes me feel so uwu, in a very romantic way i imagined when i first wrote lianor (if you ignore how big of an angst whore i am lmao), so sure, i will take it. lia intends to be this sort of safe, cozy harbor for her loved ones, where they all can forget of the harsh realities of ruling -- though she found herself quite able to do so before, she becomes more cynical, and fearful this ability will become an impossibility soon enough (which in return makes her despise those she judge that are to blame for this demystification of her idyllic world).

4 — sexuality

𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖚𝖑𝖙𝖘: for 40% you are heterossexual. this means that you are attracted only to the opposite sex. this is the most accepted and ‘normal’ sexuality, so don’t worry about fitting in with sexuality -- you will be fine.

you could also get this result:

for 30% you are bisexual. this means that you are attracted to both sexes. this sexuality is very broad -- you can love whomever you want. in reality, both boys and girls. it’s also fairly accepted, as you are both straight and gay.

𝖆𝖈𝖈𝖚𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖞: as someone with about 5 scorpios in my zodiac map, i have no qualms about discussing sex and sexuality in any way, so this is going to be an interesting ride. as always, i thought i should discuss character origins, as lianor really has bloomed ever since i began planning her, to as she was actually played. so, originally, she was as straight as a board -- as someone who has had primarily one romantic and sexual connection, she remains constant with her affections and desires, which are invested on a cismale, as it should be expected for a pious noblewoman as she is. thus, i insisted she was a hetero for quite a bit, only for her to come at me and make me proud with just a huge amount of gay -- god i love one (1) sapphic babe! because, well, i envisioned her relationship with the princess of england as one of sisterly love, but because there was a sapphic route me and the princess’ former player went by, i am interested in discussing that again with her player (who shall hopefully be here soon).

lia enjoys women -- she thinks they are gorgeous, strong beings, and she also envies them, well rooted in the environment she is at. the fateful night she did engage in intercourse with one, she powered through with mild distaste, making her purpose to appeal for the male gaze, to prove to her male partner she was not just another whore he would take to his bed and forget the next morning. she claims kissing women have become a boring affair, that she has tired of pretending and would rather go for the real thing -- a man, in which she would be expected to conceive with -- but everything she speaks must be taken with a grain of salt, since this is the 15th century and even if there is no penis, so there is no sodomy, a love for a woman that is something more than fraternal is wrong, for a woman is made for a man, and she believes she has already found her match.

this single sexual encounter and her insistence in telling herself she is disgusted by homosexuality rings to me not only of religious-infused prejudice, but also of a notion many claim secondary: the ace aspect. being a literal assexual definitely does not work for lianor, who has fire running in her veins and is not at all against asking for her earthly desires to be quenched by the right man -- but demisexuality’s definition interest me a lot; demisexuals require a good amount of bonding to be able to enjoy the sexual act -- they may do it anyways, as i know people in real life to have done and as lia does in her marital bed, but enjoying it is a whole other thing. thus, it makes sense she could not find sexual joy in a random encounter that was fashioned more to please her partner than herself. when she did think of a woman she had a deep connection with -- her dearest french penpal -- though there was an immense shame, lia found no difficulty in enjoying herself.

however, again, this should all remain entirely circumstantial due to the mentality of the century; she would rather not strain from what is normal, and resign herself to her feminine position, in which she should please her man and bear his children, regardless of her own pleasure in the matter. female friendships should remain just that, and otherwise she would seek to distance herself from the personification of sin for her own sake. to go through with modern, anachronistic notions would strip the verse of what it is and instead would make me speak of the bi icon lianor beauchamp that was born in the 1990s -- and that is a whole other talk.

#crhs.challenge #thinking of doing this for iv*n as well..fu..ck me :)

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aimmyarrowshigh · 6 years

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this is super weird, but can you tag pics of female celebrities with something? I have [50pics] blocked already, but stuff has started slipping through.

So, I have been thinking about this request and how to address it for six hours since you sent it, and I’m going to give a stupidly long answer, and then a few potential solutions. If I come across gruff or angry or frustrated or ANYTHING like that, it’s not the tone I “mean” at all, I’m just trying to think this through and answer the best I can.

First: I have never said no to anyone’s request for a tag in the past, no questions asked.

But.

My answer is… no, because it feels fundamentally wrong to me to make it possible to consume any kind of content I either create or curate in a way that would erase the presence of women.

Because I don’t have any context for this request other than “I don’t want to see women,” I am going to say no. I’ve been thinking and thinking about it since you sent this, truly and really considering, and the idea of making it possible to view content that I curate or create – whether that’s my doofy pointless blog, my fanfiction, or anything I write that isn’t fic – in a way where it’s easy for anyone to ignore or erase the presence of women and the influence of women on the lens through which I’m creating and curating content… it makes my stomach hurt.

I post women – including “female celebrities,” I guess? – in pretty much every context of my blog. I prefer female characters. I prefer woman-fronted music groups, and women musical artists. I prefer female book characters, and I try to consume 95%+ books written by female authors. My undergraduate thesis was on female sexuality in marketing and fandom and the reclamation of female sexual desire by teenage girls, and my masters’ thesis was about women’s language and the subversive linguistic creation of teenage girls and how adults, even adult women, too often end up objectifying girls and women through the inherent patriarchal quality of prescriptivist English. Like. Women and girls are what I care about in this world. They’re the main focus of everything I do, even when not posting them specifically.

The idea of making it possible to follow anything I create, or curate, in a way that even superficially erases their image or presence just… is not okay with me? My gut reaction is the same as whenever people complain about how 99.6% of the time when I write slash, it’s with an assumption of bi- or pansexuality of the male main characters, and I include significant relationships (sexual or romantic or platonic or familial, but always significant portions of the text) between the male mcs and women. It’s the same as whenever Slash Fandom, as a construct, devalues or diminishes the role of female characters to the point where including them in fannish content or meta or readings of canon is a bad thing. It’s stupid-important to me that women, real and fictional, exist in everything I do and consume.

And part of that is: yes, because I’m a lesbian, and yes, many of the female celebrities I post are ones that I find attractive. But I also consciously and doggedly try to promote and support women artists’ work, whether they’re visual artists, actors, writers, models, singers, musicians, illustrators – whatever. I post their pretty faces, but I also put my money where my mouth is and try to keep up with promoting and posting and showing off and squeeing over their work content, too. It’s important to me, and it’s a key feature of what I try to blog.

If a day goes by where I’m not posting about ANY work done by women, assume I am dead, tbh.

BUT SOLUTIONS FOR YOU:

First, if that ISN’T what you meant with this request, PLEASE write back (it can be on anon still! Totally fine!) and just be like “I meant I don’t want to see leotards or midriffs or cleavage” or something, and that’s totally workable. I know that since I don’t have to go into an office or school since I work from home, I’m probably lax on making sure I tag n/s/f/w or “not safe for Ramadan” or whatever the case there is.

Also, I DO tag obsessively, and my tags page includes everyone and everything that I have posted at least 3 times in the 7 years since I’ve started my blog, because I DO want people to be able to blacklist content that they don’t want to see. I’m in the process of reorganizing and correcting some older tags on my blog, so I’m about ~four months behind, so the Black Panther stars are not on my tags page yet, but otherwise: feel free, I guess, to blacklist all of the individual women and girl groups that I have listed. But no, I’m not going to make it easier to strike “women” as a whole, as a crucially important feature of my viewpoint on the world, from my blogfeed.

My blog, minus “women,” would just be… it would be something I would never intentionally put out into the world?

Additionally, for why stuff may seem like it’s slipping through tags: [50pics] was never a tag for “this is the only time women appear on my blog,” it’s just the tag for the specific graphics/edits that I do for that edit series – fifty photos of [whichever woman it is]. But that’s never been the only time or series in which I’ve posted women, and it isn’t meant to be a substitute for it. (But definitely keep blacklisting it if you want to! I DO tag obsessively and with an intense amount of tag organization, so FOR the 50 Pics edits series, that is the finalized tag and will be on all of those posts.)

Otherwise… like, I’m… fine with losing followers? I post my blog content 80% for me and 30% for the idea that other people want to see it, with like, a 10% assumption of overlap between “stuff I like” and “stuff other people would like,” honestly. I don’t put emotional energy into the idea of “mutuals culture,” either, so even if we’ve been mutuals for years and years, if you don’t like my content and don’t want to just blacklist my username: PLEASE feel free to unfollow me, because I don’t want to make YOUR self-curated experience WORSE because I’m curating my own experience my way, you know?

#asks #**

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thnks-fr-th-mngs · 7 years

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run me over

welp. it’s finally here. the last real part of run me over. if an epilogue is desired i suppose i can write one, since i do end off sort of ambiguously... i hope im using the word right, english is hard when it isnt your first language

Part One: thump

Part Two: melt

Part Three: do you even meme?

Part Four: laugh

Part Five: fall

Part Six: don’t even think it...

Part Seven: twist

Part Eight: tangle

Slight NSFW: no smut, but it gets a little hot at the end...

Time. There was time for everything, theoretically speaking. Felix never thought, however, that he’d have time to figure out that he was slowly falling for a guy he could consider to be one of the best friends he ever had. They hung out normally for the past two months. Felix did whatever he could to make Sean happy. If there was something he saw that Sean liked and he could get it without it looking too weird, he did exactly that.

For example, a month ago, Sean and Felix were playing video games on both their days off. When Sean mentioned loving the music to the game and wishing he could find the soundtrack in vinyl, Felix had it delivered to his house and called Sean to come take a listen to it. When Sean fell in love with the sound, Felix couldn’t resist giving it away to the green haired boy, claiming he could just get another for himself. He didn’t.

Last week, it had started getting incredibly cold in the city, and Sean forgot to bring a coat with him when he went to hang out with the Swede. Felix loved seeing the goosebumps on his arms, but didn’t like that they were there because of the cold. So, when Sean left for the night, Felix handed him his coat, which probably wasn’t good for his own sanity. Because to see a smaller man he wished he could kiss the fuck out of in his own clothes – even if it was just a jacket – was incredibly frustrating. Sean never made a motion to return the coat, which made Felix think extra hard on the situation.

Girls didn’t return sweaters or shirts either, if they could help it. It was something Felix himself loved seeing, especially with his ex-girlfriend. And now with Sean… he was still trying to figure out if this would be a thing where he just wanted a good dose of sex or he was actually getting emotionally attached to the guy. He hoped it was just the former. Because if the latter was the case, then he was screwed.

Not to say that they acted straight together in any capacity. Definitely not. In fact, last week, the same day Felix had given away his coat, Sean basically sat in Felix’s lap, almost unironically. They were hanging out with a few other friends whom Felix decided to introduce the Irishman to, and Sean had almost never left his side. In fact, when PJ held up a piece of paper where he drew mistletoe, Sean had basically flipped over and near straddled Felix, running hands through the Swede’s hair and pretended to furiously make out with him. All Felix could do was yell out a cry of, “Jesus!” and leave one hand on Sean’s back and the other trying to grab his waist but it ended up brushing up Sean’s thigh instead.

And that was only one night. When Felix’s assistant, Brad, took a picture of Sean to mess around with his photography skills and Felix saw it, he made a joke saying, “I’d fuck that guy in the ass.” Felix had no idea Sean was secretly screaming on the inside but played it off by replying with a very cheeky, “You have already.” Of course, it was a lie. Felix hadn’t fucked Sean in the ass. But both were secretly dreaming of the complete animal lust in them to commit that very act. Both acting so mocking gay with each other, that they were convinced the other was actually straight.

PJ was, needless to say, absolutely loving the tension between the two. And of course, he added to it whenever he could. Such as… daring Sean to do an Irish dance and then sing to Felix. And when he lost a bet, having Sean be Felix’s personal slave for an hour – which was something that PJ knew Felix loved doing, ordering people around, especially people he was attracted to. He didn’t know that Sean really liked it too.

“You have to stop doing that,” Sean begged PJ over text later. “I don’t know how much more I can take of you taking advantage of how I feel about him.” Sean was having one of those day’s where not even music could take his mind off of Fe. Every thought hurt to imagine and think of. Physical pains panged in his chest and vibrated through his stomach. It was torture to go through. He didn’t regret feeling this way since he first lay eyes on Fe, but he regretted that it was – in his mind – completely one-sided.

“You have to tell him at least that you’re gay,” PJ advised.

“I can’t!” Sean argued. “It’d get so awkward and he probably wouldn’t want to hang out like we do. I can’t be without him Peej, I know I can’t do that. That’d ruin me.” Sean almost wanted to cry at the thought of not having Fe, his Fe, in his life anymore. That kind of pain would be a whole different thing altogether. It’d be numbing and destructive. Sean wouldn’t find the courage to get up in the morning. What would be the point if the one thing that made him happy didn’t want to be around him anymore?

“Look can you trust me on this?” PJ pleaded. “I know it’s probably going to be the most difficult thing you’ve done. I realize that, but you can’t… you can’t hide it either. Don’t you think he deserves to know who you are?” Sean stared at the screen. PJ did have a point. There was a certain level of honesty that had to come with being really close friends with someone. After all, he didn’t have to tell Fe that he was in love with him. All he had to do was admit his own sexuality… and face the idea of losing the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Felix and Sean had met up again, this time for a chill one on one time to watch a horror movie. Felix had initially invited PJ, but at the last minute, he canceled. Something Felix didn’t appreciate. But Sean knew why. The night initially had been going well. They hung out like friends normally would. But each of them were thinking their crude little thoughts.

God, he’s so cute when he’s excited, Felix thought when Edgar gave Sean a kiss when Sean puckered up.

If he spoke just one more time in Swedish I’d probably drown, Sean thought when he asked how to say ‘boy’ and ‘girl’ in Swedish.

The things I’d make you do with your mouth, Felix fantasized when Sean smiled and took a sip of water.

You look at me like you’re thinking so hard. What are you thinking about, Fe… Sean noticed the amount of time Felix’s eyes stayed focused on him when he was doing small tasks. Swallowing the spoon of ice cream, taking a sip of water, petting Edgar, anything and everything.

“Question,” Sean said trying to distract himself from the feeling of wanting to lean on Felix. “Remember when you said you play guitar? Can you play for me now?” Felix looked at Sean briefly before nodding.

“Yeah, I can play you something,” Felix said getting up. “Come and pick a guitar.” Felix had three guitars. Two of them electric, one acoustic. Depending on which guitar Sean picked was which song Felix would play for him. Sean was excited beyond belief. This would probably make him love Felix even more – if that was even possible at this point – and that would make it so much harder to tell him what he had in mind to tell him.

They walked into Felix’s home office, which had the three guitars hanging nicely on the wall. A red one, a blue one, and a dark finished one.

“That one’s a beauty,” Sean said pointing at the acoustic one with the dark finish. Felix smiled. It wasn’t his favorite guitar, but he loved that his Little Potatoe recognized how beautiful it was. He went to the rack and took it down. He sat on the floor in the middle of the office attempting to tune the guitar by ear. Sean sat across from him. Now to pick a song…

“Fair warning I suck at singing,” Felix laughed deciding on Oh! Darling.

“I don’t mind,” Sean said already drinking in the sight of Fe handling the instrument. Your pupils increase in size when you look at someone you like. If Sean could see his own pupils, he guessed they’d probably the size of the moon.

“Okay then,” Felix strummed the strings to get the final test as to the tuning. He was satisfied. “So here’s Wonderwall,” He joked before he started playing and sort of mumbling through lyrics. He didn’t look at Sean so often, but when he did, he saw a huge smile on his face. It gave Felix the satisfaction to play through.

Sean paid rapt attention but the back of his mind imagined a little scene. He imagined a couple of kids running around the house. A girl, a boy, and a dog – not Edgar, thought he loved the little guy. He imagined that when the kids were old enough they’d ask their parents about their song. And Sean with eyes and heart still so full of love and nostalgia would look at Felix when he answered, “The Beatles gave me the courage to come out to Papa.” Felix would smile sheepishly and chuckle as he sat with the kids.

One thing was for sure. Sean had to say it. No building up to it, he’d probably lose his nerve if he tried to do that. He had to just tell Felix straight up. So as Felix finished up the bit of the song he was doing, Sean tugged at the carpet of the room and looked shyly at the Scandinavian. Felix trailed of when he saw Sean’s eyes looking at him the way they were. He wanted to kiss him. Make him blush. Tell him how much he wanted him, which right now, was escalating exponentially. There was a moments silence before Sean broke it with a shattering statement.

“I'm gay,” he said quickly. Felix looked at Sean blankly, almost not believing what he heard. He blinked before Sean continued. “Look I know this might change our friendship, I get it, it gets awkward, especially since… anyway, I understand if you don’t want to hang out anymore but I had to tell you. You deserve to know that and friends should be honest with each other an-”

“I'm bi,” Felix interrupted before laughing. It felt good to say to Sean. After all, he had only realized this because of him to begin with. Honesty was important. Sean had widened his eyes at the information that hit him like a semi-truck. The two were so surprised that the other wasn’t straight. But both were taking it differently. While Felix was laughing so hard he almost couldn’t breathe, Sean was looking mesmerized and the blonde man across him and ecstatic at the fact that perhaps one day he could elicit at least a one-night stand from him.

“Bi?” Sean finally whimpered. Felix nodded, his laughter ebbing away.

“Yeah,” he said. “I only found out a couple months ago though.” He wasn’t going to be shy about admitting it. At this point he saw that if the situation were right, he could have Sean. Maybe is Sean was having a bad day, or they were a little tipsy, or if Sean were into dressing up and wore his clothes again…

“W-what made you realize?” Sean looked shyly at Felix now.

“Why you wanna know?” Felix raised an eyebrow and smirked. Maybe that day would come sooner than he thought.

“I just…”

“Say why.” Felix ordered. He looked at Sean incredibly lustfully, not even trying to hide it anymore. The guitar had been set aside out of the way by now. Sean gulped. He didn’t want to say. That would ruin everything. Yes, Felix may be bi, but to admit to having been in love with him since the beginning, that was a game changer even bigger than admitting he was gay was. This was the Hail Mary of all Hail Mary’s. it could make or break the game. Felix put his elblows on his knees and leaned forward.

“I gave you an order. Don’t disobey it.” Sean shivered. He very much liked Felix doing that. He had a huge urge to say ‘I’m sorry, Daddy,’ in response. Instead he whimpered again and responded weakly.

“I love you,” he said looking directly into the blond’s blue eyes. That itself was all Felix needed to hear before leaning over the rest of the way and kissing the green haired boy. Sean immediately kissed back and was both hyperaware and melted against Felix as much as he could. This… this had been everything Sean had wanted his whole life. For one amazing man to love and at least like him back enough to do this. A man who drove him insane with all the chemicals running around his brain just by thinking about them.

Sean moved automatically, wanting to get as close to Fe as possible. He straddle the Swede, bringing himself as close he could to him. Felix grabbed Sean’s hips and gripped them tightly. Sean’s fingers tangled themselves in Felix’s hair. The tugging was enough to make Felix want to pounce on him already. When he couldn’t wait any longer, he pulled away from Sean and pushed him down onto his back on the floor. His lips slightly w=swollen from the kissing.

“You really have been trying my patience the past two months, baby boy,” Felix growled leaning over Sean who’s eyes looked wild with desire. Felix nipped at the Irishman’s neck. Sean couldn’t hold back gasps and the attempt to grind his hips upward.

“You have no idea how hard it’s been,” Felix said between bites and kisses. “Thinking I wasn’t ever going to be able to have my way with you, especially when you were wearing my jacket the other day. I wanted to take you in the hall right then and there.” Sean had started whimpering again. Felix’s words and touches basically ruining him.

“Have you anything to say for yourself, baby boy?” Felix said this roughly, almost a menacing growl. Sean did nothing but shiver uncontrollably.

“I'm sorry, Daddy,” He answered breathily. Felix smirked when Sen called him daddy. The way things were going, Felix definitely wouldn’t want this to be a one time thing. He was definitely going to want something permanent. And although he may not love Sean yet, he definitely knew that he could. Felix kissed Sean on the lips again. This was going to be good…

#Who wants an epilogue?#i mean i might do one like a six months later thing #but this is the official end of the whole thing #i really liked writing this!#granted i sucked at coming up with faster updates #thanks to you babes for being patient about the whole thing #i know it was a lot of waiting for it #jelix #jelix fic #fic #fan fiction #fanfic #fan fic #jelix fan fiction #run me over #septicpie #septicpie fan fiction #little fic

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gracieminabox · 7 years

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@nerdqueenenterprise did her “50 headcanons” for Chris and Phil and, well, I got inspired to do mine, too.

(Why yes, I should be doing homework right now; why do you ask?)

Cut because looooong.

What does their bedroom look like? Phil owns his own house, an unassuming bungalow just outside the BOQ complex, where Chris’ last apartment is. After the Narada, when Chris can no longer manage the seven-floor walkup, he moves in with Phil. (Years later, they think about buying their own house together; surprisingly, it’s Chris who’s too attached to the bungalow to want to leave it.) Their bedroom is on the far west side of the house. It’s larger than the guest room, but still not ridiculously big, and has hardwood floors with several plush Bajoran rugs (Phil got most of them as gifts from the traditional midwives with whom he apprenticed while completing his fellowship). Their bed is enormous, with a wrought-iron, slatted headboard, matching end tables, and two large wardrobes. Chris sleeps closer to the door to the room, Phil to his left; there’s a decent-sized window to Phil’s left. There’s an en suite bathroom there, too, with pale green tile and lots of brushed steel furnishings.

Do they have any daily rituals? As long as they’re together, kissing one another awake. Phil makes breakfast while Chris reads the news. They take turns in the shower (except when they don’t have to go into the office, when they can get aware with sharing the space, if you know what I mean). Whenever they can - they try to make it a daily thing, but can’t always - one will bring the other coffee mid-morning and/or they’ll have lunch together. At night, they go to bed at the same time, and sex or not, they always kiss goodnight.

Do they exercise, and if so, what do they do? How often? Phil’s exercise regimen is focused largely on flexibility. He does tons of yoga and alien variants thereof, and he swims and weight trains. Chris’ exercise regimen is fast and furious. He runs, he weight trains, he swims, he rides horses, he surfs, he does it all. After the Narada, obviously, his exercise routine must change considerably; swimming becomes his primary form of exercise, and he lets Phil teach him some yoga, too.

What would they do if they needed to make dinner but the kitchen was busy? Chris is not allowed within two meters of the kitchen under any circumstances. It’s a public safety matter, really. He can go near the replicator and the coffee maker, and that’s it. So the kitchen will never be busy, because it’ll be Phil in there, virtually always.

Cleanliness habits (personal, workspace, etc.) Chris is meticulous about hygiene, but in terms of his living environment, he’s not particularly neat. Phil is neater than he is, but he’s not a nag about it. Chris is in charge of laundry, doing dishes, and when they get a dog, feeding her; Phil’s in charge of cooking, vacuuming, and cleaning the bathroom. (Sample conversation: “Will you ever aim your scrub top into the hamper properly, Dr. Boyce?”/“D’you really want to talk about aim while I’m cleaning the bathroom, Admiral Pike?”)

Eating habits and sample daily menu They’re both pretty healthy eaters. Chris is more prone to forgetting to eat if he’s working his ass off on some kind of project. At breakfast, they both drink coffee, Chris with an obscene amount of sugar in it, Phil with milk. When they don’t have a lot of time, they usually eat cereal, yogurt, or a piece of fruit; when there’s more time to play with, Phil makes bacon and eggs. (Phil’s a vegetarian, but makes an exception for bacon, because bacon is Chris’ favorite food.) On special mornings, maybe pancakes or French toast. Lunch is, all too often, whatever they can grab - a sandwich in the Academy cafeteria, leftovers from last night’s dinner, that little baggie of pretzels hidden in the bottom desk drawer. They both try to remember to pack something a little more filling, but whether or not they actually do is anybody’s guess. For dinner, either Phil cooks - usually something simple, like pasta primavera or loaded baked potatoes - or they get takeout. There’s a pizza place on the Academy grounds that delivers until 0300. Phil developed a taste for Andorian fusion food when he was doing his fellowship and turns Chris on to it too. On special nights, they go out to dinner.

Favorite way to waste time and feelings surrounding wasting time Chris has a tendency to feel guilty about not working, but Phil, who knows Chris’ workaholic tendencies well, reminds him that he’s a workaholic who has earned a break, and that the time he enjoys wasting is not wasted time. Chris swims, plays guitar, watches TV, and sometimes just sits there talking and laughing with Phil. Phil wastes time by trying new recipes that he’s not so sure about.

Favorite indulgence and feelings surrounding indulging Phil’s favorite indulgence is sweets. He has a sweet tooth, even though he tries not to indulge it very often. He always does when they go out to dinner, though; the little place up the road makes a sinful tres leches cake. Chris’ is also food based, but he favors a good steak. There is nothing better than a perfectly medium rare piece of synthetically-grown beef.

Makeup? Neither of them wear makeup, unless they’re covering up bite marks and hickeys left by the other.

Neuroses? Do they recognize them as such? Chris definitely has a higher neurotic component than Phil does, although even Chris’ is pretty chill. He’s just more prone to anxiety, especially when he’s young. He’s better at recognizing it now than he used to be.

Intellectual pursuits? They’re many and varied. Phil loves his chosen fields, but he likes to dip into areas outside his typical daily practice; that’s why he knew who Leonard McCoy was when Chris first recruited him, from browsing neuro journals. Chris has always been interested in humanitarian aid and how to most effectively mobilize for its delivery; he became much more so after Tarsus.

Favorite book genre? Phil will read whatever, as long as the characters draw him in. He loves medical mysteries, for obvious reasons. Chris loves psychological thrillers and dystopian novels, and if you mention his small collection of romance novels, he will deny it to his dying day.

Sexual orientation? And, regardless of own orientation, thoughts on sexual orientation in general? Phil is bi. He knew he was in first grade, when he got a crush on a boy in his class, and told his mom. She just smiled and ruffled his hair and said they’d talk about that in a couple of years. Chris thought he was a garden-variety heterosexual until his early forties, after Divorce #2, when he realized he had feelings for Phil. It took him a few uncomfortable years to adjust to the idea of (a) being attracted to his best friend and (b) being attracted to a man at all. He rarely slaps a label on it, but he’s bi. They are both aggressively “live and let live” regarding who’s sexual with whom and to what degree.

Physical abnormalities? (Both visible and not, including injuries/disabilities, long-term illnesses, food-intolerances, etc.) Chris’ mobility issues are the most obvious item. When he’s having a particularly bad pain day, he uses a wheelchair; on “average” days, he uses his cane. Every once in a while, he has a particularly good day and can manage without his cane, though this is fairly uncommon. His kidneys are still a little fragile as a result of the rhabdomyolysis he experienced while recovering from the Narada experience, and within a few years he has to take a daily medication to maintain optimal kidney function. He’s got several food allergies, notably to fruits; among the known ones are cantaloupe, cranberry, and mango. Phil doesn’t have much in the way of any of these things. He maintains exceptional health his entire life. He does have a mild allergy to an enzyme used in some dessicated Vulcan foods, including protein nibs, but the worst he gets if he eats them is hives.

Biggest and smallest short term goal? (This is a tough one to answer for a couple who’s been together for-fucking-ever.)

Biggest and smallest long term goal? Grow old together.

Preferred mode of dress and rituals surrounding dress Uniforms for work, obviously. Phil favors wearing a lab coat at the hospital, but never bothered when he was shipboard. Chris has a small pocket sewn into the inside of his command tunic into which he slipped his favorite picture of him with Phil. They both keep civilian suits, which they often wear to fancy dinners (and to their own wedding) and a fair selection of casual and athletic attire.

Favorite beverage? Phil’s favorite alcoholic beverage: martini, very dry. Phil’s favorite non-alcoholic beverage: hot orange spice tea. Chris’ favorite alcoholic beverage: whisky. Chris’ favorite non-alcoholic beverage: water.

What do they think about before falling asleep at night? Mostly about their plans for tomorrow, always with at least a little spared thought for each other. (Sometimes a lot of spared thought for each other, let’s be real.)

Childhood illnesses? Any interesting stories behind them? Chris is fairly prone to colds and flus. When he was very young, about two or three, he got strep throat and spiked a fever so high that his mother panicked and rushed him to the emergency room, thinking he must’ve had Tarkalean flu, even though there was no reasonable way he could’ve contracted it. (The incident was one of his father’s major clues that his mother’s medication wasn’t working well anymore.) Phil is, again, exceptionally healthy. He did break his clavicle falling off his bike when he was first learning to ride. When he was eleven, he fell through the ice on the makeshift ice rink on the pond in the backyard; his eldest brother, Charlie, pulled him out of the freezing water and got him inside and warmed up before any harm could befall him.

Turn-ons? Turn-offs? Too many to give a comprehensive list, buuut... Phil’s turn-ons include the way Chris smells after he’s just taken a shower or after he’s just worked out (yes, the smells are different, shut up), the way Chris’ hair gets so much curlier when it’s wet or when it’s humid outside, and the sound of Chris’ voice. Chris’ turn-ons include Phil’s many kinds of smiles (soft, sly, sexy, giddy, pensive, open, loving), how Phil’s hair flops down over his eyes no matter what he does to stop it, and literally everything about Phil’s hands. Their mutual turn-offs, in general, are arrogance, xenophobia (or any other bullshit marginalizing viewpoint), and willful ignorance.

Given a blank piece of paper, a pencil and nothing to do, what would happen? Chris would probably doodle starships. Phil would probably doodle nonsensical shapes and start shading them differently.

How organized are they? How does this organization/disorganization manifest in their everyday life? Chris is very organized at the office and not even a little bit organized at home. His home office is, as he calls it, “an organized pigsty.” Phil is not allowed to move things in the office. Phil does, however, have permission to, for example, clear Chris’ crap off the kitchen table before they eat, or pick up Chris’ dirty socks, or put the cap back on Chris’ toothpaste. Phil is considerably neater than Chris is at home, but at work, he’d forget his own name if he weren’t wearing it around his neck. His assistant at Medical, Martha, is the one with a memory like a steel trap; she’s a fixer of things and Phil’s right hand.

Is there one subject of study that they excel at? Or do they even care about intellectual pursuits at all? They’re both brilliant, and were brilliant students. Everything came naturally to Phil (he was one of those students who did well without having to study), but his favorite subjects were biology and English. Chris’ best subjects were physics and analytical geometry, but his favorites were the social sciences.

How do they see themselves 5 years from today? Safe and happy, on Earth, in their little bungalow, with a garden and a dog and an in-ground pool in the backyard where Chris can do his exercises and a greenhouse where Phil can grow orchids and Jim and Len come over for dinner three times a week.

Do they have any plans for the future? Any contingency plans if things don’t work out? Phil asks Chris this, after Jim’s back and Chris is recovering from the Daystrom attack. He asks Chris what he wants. Chris thinks about it, and ultimately decides that what he wants most is to grow old with Phil. He has to make peace with the fact that he can’t go into space again, not in his physical condition; and that, plus the fact that his Starfleet career’s put his life in danger on a regular basis lately, means that Starfleet’s lost a lot of its allure for him. Maybe he’ll semi-retire. Maybe he’ll totally retire. Maybe he’ll just teach. Who knows? His priorities have changed, though, and what he really wants now is to be a good partner to Phil. Phil liked space travel just fine, but it wasn’t a driving force for him like it was for Chris, so he can happily do without it. He wants to continue to be useful to as many people as he can, and he can do that for as many species as possible while with Starfleet, so his plans are to stay dirtside at Medical and keep helping people until he can’t anymore. (And, of course, to grow old with Chris.)

What is their biggest regret? Chris’ is waiting so long to figure out his feelings for Phil and depriving them of all that time they could’ve been a couple. Phil tells him time and time again not to let that bother him - after all, they’re together now, and that’s what matters - but it still nags at Chris. Phil doesn’t believe in regrets.

Who do they see as their best friend? Their worst enemy? They are each other’s best friend and have been forever. Other than each other, Phil would say his best friend is his elder sister Sarah. Chris’ is his high school best friend Erin. Both would also consider Number One an extremely close friend. Worst enemy? Nero and Khan both duke it out for the top spot.

Reaction to sudden extrapersonal disaster (eg The house is on fire! What do they do?) They both manage crisis for a living. They figure out what has to be done and they do it. They feel emotions about the crisis, but they shelve them until what has to be done gets done. They wait until they’re in a private space before they let their emotions show.

Reaction to sudden intrapersonal disaster (eg close family member suddenly dies) Chris’ immediate reaction is to fall back on practicality. He needs something to do. It’ll be days of relative catatonia before he actually feels the emotions full-force. Phil’s immediate reaction is shock, followed by tears.

Most prized possession? Chris’ is Vince’s class ring. He didn’t find out what had happened to his grandfather’s Starfleet class ring until after his grandmother had died, when he went back to the Mojave ranch house for the first time in decades and started sifting through what was there. It was in an envelope, in a closet, with Chris’ name on it in Vince’s handwriting. Chris put it on and then never took it off. Phil doesn’t have a prized possession until he and Chris get married. Then it’s his wedding ring.

Thoughts on material possessions in general? They like things, but they can also do without things. Does that make sense? Like, they’re certainly not materialistic, but they also aren’t entirely immaterialistic. They value what possessions they have, and when trying to get something new, always want something high in quality, no matter what it is.

Concept of home and family? Chris has a dysfunctional family history and an insecure attachment style. Phil came from a loving, close-knit family and feels secure in his attachment. Polar opposites. Phil has to kind of lead by example, to demonstrate to Chris what a positive home and family are supposed to look like, which means Phil is an instrumental part of Chris’ concept of home.

Thoughts on privacy? (Are they a private person, or are they prone to TMI?) Chris is more prone to what one might actually call TMI. Phil is more prone to, shall we say, socially inappropriate conversations - but without knowing it. (Discussing birthing positions in graphic detail with a riveted expectant parent while others look on in horror and Chris just winces and sips his drink.) When it really matters, though, they’re both private people. (Oh, that reminds me - Chris has instituted a list of “banned” words for when Phil is discussing his work. Membrane, for example. Placenta. Sac.)

What activities do they enjoy, but consider a waste of time? They reach a certain point in life where they don’t consider anything a waste of time, because they’re just trying to soak up their time together.

What makes them feel guilty? For Chris, it’s reflecting on how much pain he put Phil through over years of not knowing - or maybe of stopping himself from consciously knowing - how Phil felt about him. Phil refuses to participate in Chris Pike’s Self-Flagellation Hour and just gently tells him to put away the guilt. Phil’s guilt is rooted in every person he’s not been able to save.

Are they more analytical or more emotional in their decision-making? Chris is almost wholly analytical in making command decisions and almost wholly emotional in making personal decisions. Phil has more balance in both professional and personal situations, incorporating not only the clinical details but also his patient’s illness narrative, their values, their social support, economics, geography, etc. into his clinical decisions.

Would they consider themselves a Type A or Type B personality? Neither of them are entirely either one, but Chris leans more Type A and Phil more Type B. Chris is much more take charge, go-go-go, all go no quit never give up never surrender. Phil can absolutely be that way in a crisis, but his default is calmer, more relaxed.

What recharges them when they’re feeling drained? For Chris, it’s exercise. For Phil, it’s sleep, or cooking. For both of them, it’s sex.

Would you say that they have a superiority complex? Inferiority complex? Neither? Neither. Phil has a very realistic picture of himself. It could be argued that Chris has a mild inferiority complex, especially early in his life, but it’s more that he’s incredibly insecure, even if he pretends to be profoundly confident.

How misanthropic are they? Chris can be sometimes, when life just gets to be too much to handle. Phil virtually never is.

Hobbies? Chris plays guitar, swims, reads, and looks at the stars. (Yeah, yeah, he looks at the stars for work, too; whatever.) Phil cooks, reads, does yoga, and collects antique medical journals.

How far did they get in formal education? What are their views on formal education vs self education? Chris graduated high school a year early to join Starfleet. He has an undergraduate degree in xenosociology, with concentrations in diplomatic relations and humanitarianism, and a Ph.D. in military strategy and tactics. Phil has two undergraduate degrees - a BS in biology and a BA in psychology - a masters of public health with a concentration in multispecies health education, and an MD. He holds three board certifications, one in ob/gyn, one in emergency medicine, and one in general surgery. They share an opinion that the important thing is that someone learns, not how someone learns. Formal education, self education, whatever - as long as they continue to learn, that’s what matters.

Religion? Both are agnostic. Chris leans atheistic, though he would stop short of using that term, and he maintains an open mind. Phil is more of a “pure” agnostic in that he doesn’t believe that the existence, or lack thereof, of a higher power is something anyone will ever be able to comprehend. Phil could absolutely be considered spiritual, though; he does believe, and pretty firmly, that something bigger than himself exists, though whether someone wants to call that “god” or just “the universe” or something else is up to them.

Superstitious or views on the occult? Neither are particularly superstitious, though they certainly respect the diversity of viewpoints they’ve encountered in their travels.

Do they express their thoughts through words or deeds? Both. Phil tends to be more verbal, Chris more action-based, but both of them are variable in how they express themselves.

If they were to fall in love, who (or what) is their ideal? Chris chronically falls in love, to habitually disastrous ends. He craves connection with others, and when he finds it, he’s determined not to let it go, even if it’s so clearly not right. The only time he hasn’t felt like he’s had to compromise something about himself in order to love another person has been with Phil. That makes Phil his ideal. Phil’s had several casual relationships with people - historically, he’s actually been with quite a few more people than Chris has - but he’s been in love exactly once. Chris is his ideal.

How do they express love? They say so. Often. They’re both pretty verbal people, especially Phil, and they both love hearing that they are loved. They touch. Often. It takes a little bit of time to adjust to physical affection in public, but once they do, hand-holding or arms around shoulders or waists or little exchanged kisses are common. They spend time together. They have date nights, they debrief and cuddle together on the couch after hard days, they go on trips together, they have dinner together every night. They exchange gifts. Chris knows Phil prefers a plasma stove to the electric one they have, so he gets him one. Phil knows Chris likes better water pressure than what he has, so he pays for upgrades. They help each other. Phil helps Chris with PT, Chris helps Phil with household chores, Phil makes dinner, Chris drives more. They ease one another’s burdens.

If this person were to get into a fist fight, what is their fighting style like? Chris is a muscled, combat-trained man. He’s gonna win most one-on-one fights. Against more than one person? He’ll hold his own, but it’s a toss-up as to how he’ll do. Phil’s a pacifist to his core and avoid fighting at any cost - he even despised carrying a phaser on away missions when he was shipboard and prided himself on never firing one after the required training at the Academy - but my dude can throw a hell of a punch if he needs to. (Charlie taught him how to, when their sister Sarah had a boyfriend who was hitting her, so they could go kick his ass. They did - though Charlie did most of the actual ass-kicking because Phil was only fourteen - and said boyfriend never came near Sarah again. Phil still doesn’t know where Charlie learned how to fight that well.)

Is this person afraid of dying? Why or why not? Chris is. He accepts it as an inevitability, and the risk of death as an occupational hazard; but when he’s been close to death before, yeah, he’s definitely been afraid. Phil’s not afraid of death as a concept. He just hates the idea of being without Chris.

#why does chril happen to unassuming people

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keii · 7 years

Text

I had a weird ass dream that only left a bitter taste in my mouth… I don’t know where exactly I was, or how I got there. I just remembered suddenly waking up at this all women’s college, but the Dean was this young, super rich, and attractive male and he was widely popular around campus. There was free housing and dining for all the students and staff, the campus was huge and filled with all sorts of luxuries such as pools, saunas, gyms, cafes, movie theaters, with it’s own shopping center, and if you wanted to go study abroad, then the school will pay for you. There were all types of majors to choose from, and the school is linked with different types of companies where you can intern at so it’s very easy to get an amazing job right after you graduate. It sounded like such an amazing school… but for some reason, I found myself not wanting to be there…

And the reason was because of the Dean himself. Though I was apparently a student there, it seemed as if I caught the eye of the Dean, and he gave me a lot of special treatment, such as access to the best housing, the best food, an allowance of $xxxx amount bi-weekly which I was free to spend on anything, and I could go out of campus whenever. Every girl wanted to catch his attention so they tried whatever they can to improve their looks, improve their grades etc. for those reasons I listed above, and also because he was super rich, handsome, and just… charming– So a lot of girls grew jealous that I didn’t do anything to grab his attention. They say that if you’re in his radar, you’re part of the “Dean’s List.”

Anyway, at first I didn’t mind the attention, it was actually really nice, but he grew a lot bolder in his… affection. Short forehead kisses, turned into forceful make out sessions after being pulled into a cramp janitor’s closet, light touches on the shoulders went to unexpected ass grabs down the hallway, sweet words turned dirty and way too descriptive than I’d like. But I shouldn’t complain right? He was giving me everything that I wanted… it’s only fair to do be the “good girl” and do what he wants in return… right?

I also then came across other girls who were on the “Dean’s list” some were very hostile and possessive, others were very kind… but very scared. I didn’t know why until all the girls were called into a gathering to the Dean’s house. When we entered the house, it was very spacious, it kind of reminded me of beast’s castle from Beauty and the Beast. From the second floor, the Dean greeted us with his charming smile– but something seemed off, the curves of his lips were crooked and the pupils on usually gentle eyes were dilating back and forth. It was then we saw a woman beaten and tied up, her clothes were stripped away from her, and her mouth was taped up so she couldn’t speak. All we heard were her weak muffles and we all stared in shocked and horror. The Dean lifted her by her hair and told us that this is what happens… when you try to escape from him. When you try to flee the country with the money he gives you and never want to come back again… with another man. He lifted the girl and had her lean against the railings, ripping off the tape from her lips. She spat in his face and he wiped it away with his gloved hand. The grin never leaving his expression. With one last rugged kiss, he tipped her over the edge and we watched in fear as she fell flat against the hard marble floor… her blood slowly oozing out of her body. A girl within the crowd screamed, and there were many different expressions that the group had, but the Dean held a finger up to his lips, and softly let out a “shhh” that quickly shut everyone up.

He then went over a few “rules” when it came to being on the “Dean’s List”

When summoned by the Dean, you must attend to him.

Don’t ever mess around with another man/woman

It was then I realized that the Dean only looked at us as his own property. Any of us could be thrown away at any given time like what had happened to the unfortunate girl.

My dream then skipped to several weeks later where I was in some sort of meeting with some girls who were also on the list and how they were trying to come up with an escape plan to leave. My memory of this part of the dream is a bit hazy, so I don’t remember much of the details, but all I do remember was that the Dean found out our plans and it went horribly wrong. He killed most of the girls that were in the group and I was trying to escape with another girl. We got into her car and she was trying to put her keys into the ignition, but the fear overwhelmed her body that she was trembling furiously. As soon as she was able to slip the keys in, the Dean was able to enter into the back seat, right behind me. I felt the Dean’s breath against the back of my neck and from my peripheral, I could see a bloodied knife pointed at the other’s girls neck. We were too scared to move or make a noise, and that moment of silence felt like an eternity until the Dean finally spoke up saying, “It was a cute attempt to escape and go off to the police… But… even if you were to make it, do you think they would believe you?” His words sent chills down my spine, causing goosebumps to appear on my skin. He continued with, “I practically own this town, so you have nowhere to go… So enough of the games… Let’s just say that I win this round, and let’s go back home okay?” He finally backed away from my neck and lowered the knife away from the other girl, and we were able to breathe a sigh of relief, but it was then we heard a dark chuckle from behind us and he said, “But since I am the winner, it’s only fair to punish the loser right?”

Before we could react, he slit open the other girls throat and with his free hand, he wrapped it around my throat. I could see his reflection from the rear view mirror and his eyes were terrifying– I wanted to look away, but I felt that if I moved, he would’ve killed me. Instead I remained as I was, never breaking eye contact with him. His fingers squeezed tighter around my neck and he said, “I really want to kill you, but… I’ll save that for later… if you happen to piss me off again. So come on, let’s go have some dinner.” And his fingers loosened and I heard him get out of the car… I only followed silently behind him.

As time went on, the Dean grew more and more attached to me and started to kill off the other girls. I remember there was a moment where he grabbed both of my arms, holding me tightly so I wouldn’t escape and told me, “They’re all gone! I got rid of all the trash! You’re the only one left, the only one. You’re the only one I want, so you should be happy!”

My dream then cut to a few days later or something where I actually met some other guy, and apparently he wanted to kill the Dean and he needed my help since I was “special” to the Dean. And yeah like, the guy who wanted to kill the Dean told me it was because his younger sister went to the same university and that she was also on the “Dean’s List” and the brother found out that she was killed by the Dean. And at first the guy was kind of cold towards me and idk I hated being used by both guys, but after telling the guy off, he became a lot more nicer and sincere… but then… I woke up…

And I never knew what happened next.

SO THIS IS WHY I AM SO FRUSTRATED AHHHH

#i just wanna leave this here so ya goodnight--#this is probably one of my most detailed dreams lool #but still pretty interesting haha #long post #killadreams #x

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aquarianlights · 6 years

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Still the anon about airport security. What would you do if you had to take a flight? Would you go through the full body scanner? Or if don't want to, you can opt for a pat down. You know the pat down has to be done by a officer of the same gender as yours. Would you be worried about being misgendered? I was misgendered once, so I am really unsure if it's better the body scanner putting your biological sex to avoid to find anomalies or the pat down where they could misgendered you.

Well, I’m most definitely going to have to take flights in the future. Idk when or how soon. I’m guessing it’ll be 2019 so I’m guessing they’ll not make any progress by then and they’ll not have made any advancements past full body scanners.

Just saying now, most trans people are not going to align with my views on this, but that’s perfectly fine. I have very specific views and very specific reasoning and very specific quirks. And that’s all perfectly okay. So. . .don’t worry about how weird this is all going to sound and how this is all going to be exactly opposite of what most trans people would think. Trust me when I say I am not most trans people. When I first came out about being trans on tumblr (a year or two after discovering I was trans), the LGBT community literally attacked me (trans people specifically) trying to tell me I wasn’t trans enough to be included. Lmao. So don’t worry that I’m going to be the opposite on most people. It’s not you, it’s me. Haha. I’ve come to learn that I am a seriously awesome individual and that I just have very unique quirks and that I just don’t align well with the LGBT community like majority of my fremily, who are all LGBT. Which is perfectly fine. Coz no one needs to. As long as we are all comfortable with ourselves. And as long as you’re comfortable with yourself? You don’t need to worry about being misgendered, honestly. Which is why I’m not.

But anyways. . .

If you’re asking my PERSONAL opinion like I THINK you are, like I said, on a personal level, I don’t worry about that stuff because I don’t have anxiety attached to my dysphoria like most people do. Public anxiety isn’t an issue for me and it never has been and I’m a 200% attention whore. I do worry about being misgendered but I take the opportunity to correct everyone and anyone I see as long as it’s not medically oriented. And since this isn’t a medical issue, I would already have been correcting them from the start and if someone dared pulled an attitude with me (ESPECIALLY a police officer), I’d be talking over them. As I normally do. I correct people on my gender already unless I want something from them (ie; I’m not really outing myself to my professors at school until I can feel around on whether they’re transphobic or not unless they specifically ask. I only make sure to correct them on my name. As for pronouns, I’m only going to tell them about it eventually. Whereas, in a PUBLIC situation where I will only be seeing these people once and it’s a one-time incident? Nbd).

I mean, I’ve seen that people normally tend to dwell on bad social interactions. You mention that you’ve been misgendered once as though you remember in vivid detail this one instance. I just don’t get those effects from negative social interactions. It’s generally intimate, private, negative interactions that have vivid memories for me. I don’t tend to really have vivid memories of negative, public interactions because they don’t stick with me and I think I have less than zero amount of social anxiety. I’m less than neurotypical when it comes to social anxiety. I’m whatever the opposite of social anxiety is. I enjoy the spotlight. I don’t tend to ENJOY it persay in a negative way but I’d rather have it than not have it. I don’t want the spotlight BY CHOICE. But I want it... by chance. If you get what I’m saying? Idk how that exactly works. So if I get picked out for a pat down... I guess that’s all the better?

As for pat-downs...Well, I’m a 200% brutally honest person so here we go. If a male officer were called to pat me down, I would have a hard time not having a breakdown. I have had so much sexual assault and rape history that has lead to PTSD and panic disorder that even if I didn’t have a female officer, I would request one and wait for one. If I had to have a male, I would specifically request that he not be white. All of the males that have sexually assaulted me have been white cis males (and to my knowledge, heterosexual or claiming to be bi and lying about being bi to manipulate me).

Also, if you know anything about me and have followed me for even 2 seconds, you know I’m the brattiest of all brat subs. And I quite enjoy toying with my dommes. So if a female officer were to just COME to me, it would make things a LOT easier, because then I would be able to just automatically avoid all the flashbacks and heart racing and feelings of fear that would flood back from PTSD. And I wouldn’t have any of that to deal with so I would be able to be my normal self and would be able to toy with her and tease her like I normally would and enjoy myself. If you’ve followed me for 2 seconds, then you’ll also know I’m ace. I’m not sexually attracted to anyone. But I do appreciate the female form and I am romantically attracted to females. I consider myself biromantic (or panromantic, I really don’t know) because occasionally there’s a male or other person thrown in there, but it’s heavily leaning towards females. Always has been. But I quite enjoy when females of authority pat me down because it brings out my bratty side and gives me the chance to make snarky remarks and toy with them under my breath and it’s just a lot of fun for me, tbh.

This is all my personal opinion, though. I’m really not your average transguy, as you can probably tell. I’m quite the opposite and no one should ever follow my lead coz I’m a bad example. I mean... I’m your typical brat sub but I’m not your typical person. Like I’ve said many times before, I live the bdsm lifestyle, but I’m not a sexual person because I’m ace. I’m not into bdsm sexually at all. I just live the lifestyle. Which a lot of people don’t understand unless, y’know, they’re in the lifestyle, too, either both sexually/fully or just fully.

I get misgendered on the daily so it’s all part of daily life for me. It’s part of the norm right now. When getting misgendered becomes odd for me---I mean, really odd---then, we can talk. But that probably won’t be for long down the HRT line if it’s all even safe to do what we’re talking about and, er, whenever BRCA testing gets done and the state can pay for my surgery. But that’s hopeful thinking. I doubt if we try out what the doctor and I are talking about, it’ll work. I don’t wanna give out details because if I type it out, I will get my own hopes up and I don’t wanna do that. Coz when I get defeated and have to continue doing what I’m doing, that’ll be really sad. And BRCA testing will probably come back positive, but even if it does, I won’t have the time to go through with the surgery until, er. . .who knows when. :| The only thing that will happen FOR SURE is a name change. Maybe one day I can do what my doctor and I are talking about, but probably not. Ergh. I don’t wanna get my hopes uppppp. Do not want. But if my BRCA test comes back positive, at least I can keep it in my file so that I have it as evidence.

But honestly?

The machine wouldn’t bother me and a surprise pat down wouldn’t bother me. I’m 200% comfortable with how other people see me and how I hold myself. And I’m ALMOST comfortable with how I see myself. Almost. . .

You know what WOULD bother me? A strip search. You know why? Because it’s EXTREMELY uncomfortable to take my binder off. I even wear a sports bra to bed. I take super short showers simply because it’s uncomfortable to not have something binding the girls down. They’re fucking annoying. I barely have a B cup. BARELY. They don’t even really fit into B cups, but they’re slightly too large for A’s. But they don’t fit any A’s. So it’s hard to judge. But then again, any bra that isn’t a sports bra is too loose, imo, coz I’m wearing a binder as long as I can all day, but I wear a sports bra at night. I mean, ever since I started wearing training bras, I started wearing bras to bed. You know what’s also uncomfortable for me? People seeing my belly. That bothers me. That scares me to death. Because of my parents growing up. Which is why I turned to ana when I was a child and didn’t even know what ana was and still keep ana in my life. But having to take my shirt off in front of someone and not cover my tummy with my arm? That terrifies me. Hell, even when I’m sitting down or laying down, there’s always a pillow or blanket or stuffed animal or SOMETHING over my tummy. Even when I’m driving, I keep a jacket or something in my lap simply because it bothers me to not have pressure on my tummy. The only time I don’t have something is when I’m walking, working, exercising, or taking a test. Even when I’m sleeping, I have a long stuffed animal that I keep between my legs that I keep up close to my tummy that I keep pressed to myself because it scares me to not have pressure on it. Because of my parents. Again, thing in the shower. And also why I hate summer. Fucking can’t do layers that help with that feeling of pressure that helps keep my parents voices in my head at bay.

So THAT is the only thing that would bother me. A strip search. A pat down and a machine? Nah. Wouldn’t bother me for reasons stated above.

That is all going on the fact you just asked my personal opinion, yes? At least, that’s how I read it. I’m hoping I explained that thoroughly enough that it all made sense.

I know all my reasoning is kind of weird and I have very, er... specific reasoning for every little thing but. I tried to explain everything without going into too much detail. So, uh... yeah. Not gonna apologize for being me, but I am aware that I am a very specific character with very specific quirks about me and that most other trans people are not going to align with my views on this. And that’s perfectly okay.

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