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melissa-s23 · 4 years

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Private lesson

Sumarry: Janus try to decieve himself into a timeline where he can save his friends. He does not expect reality to offer him an opportunity to prove himself.

Word count: 3127

Characters: Janus Sanders, King creativity Sanders

Warnings: Sword fighting?? Idk please tell me if you think something else should be added here.

Author’s note: MY FIRST ONESHOT EVER COMPLETED! Yes! And the honor goes to @rondoel ‘s King!AU! ( @kingcreativityau ) :D Now: are the characters OOC in this? Most probably. Do I really care about it? Only a tiny bit. I only started to post Sanders Sides content here recently, but I’ve been a fan of the series for a few months now so I had time to read a lot of fic... however I’m still not sure on what I got wrong so if you have any criticism, positive or negative, please let me know! Lastly, this was at first supposed to be an animatic (on the song called ‘This is war’) but I have NO TIME to draw and lot of time to write so enjoy! When I do get time, I might try to animate a certain part of it that I don’t think I nailed that well in the fic. Anyway, I’ve been rambling for long enough. ENJOY!!!

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Janus stood there, in the empty training room. Since King's return, he felt very conflicted, and he hated himself for it.

The king was merciless, he cursed Patton to make him look like a toddler, he removed Logan's vocal cords, he cursed Virgil into torturing himself into deadly downward spirals, and...

And he was very spiteful, he was angry... because he'd betrayed him.

Janus clenged his fist. He couldn't help but remember the look of betray and rage that his King gave him when he discovered his team-up with Logan. Those orange eyes that could burn him down on the spot. Those oh so intense eyes... Damn it, he was back at it again. This is over now. His king was gone. Now it was the King. The tyrant. The side who hurt his friends.

He was standing in the empty room, looking at his reflection by the mural mirror. His now half-half face looked so tired. Was he really this tired ? He was probably very very tired... but he'll rest later, as the memory of his most recent wound was still fresh in his head, replaying this utter humiliation, he just couldn’t sleep. Anger soon filled him up.

He could have tried to stop him. He could have tried to save his friends, and instead he just... froze. He just let it happen like he couldn't do anything. And he knew how to fight ! He knew how to defent himself for crying out loud ! He could've done something, and instead... Nothing ! He recalled the scene, bit by bit. How Logan stood at his left, how virgil was just behind, how the king was looming over them, despite being 10 feet away from them. He remembered every movement, every word, and every second of that moment like it was written in his metaphysical blood.

And in a second, it was like he was dragged back to this hell again.

And he would not let it happen a second time.

He summoned his cane and raised it up at the memory of King. His mind wandered off now. He had to imagine how he would've react. Would he summon his sword or take full creative control to just trap him ? He wanted to think he had a chance, so he chose the sword scenario.

And just like that, the imaginary fight was on. Step forward. Left. Right. Dodge. Go protect them. Put up a fight. He would have rushed toward the tyrant and aimed for the head, the sword would've get in the way and he could uses the top of his cane to project himself back to the group. Go. Dodge. Pare. Block and Dodge and Move fast and Dodge again and Block and pare and send it back. The world was spinning around him and the fight got more and more intense. He may have his eyes closed, but he knew perfectly where he was in the room, and he was completely in his daydream. Left and Right and Block again and Forward and Left and Block and backward and spin and swing the cane for it to stop only an inch away from the face of his enemy. He would have been a threat, and he would have been able to save his friends from the King.

He didn't expect, however, to be met with the actual King in front of him when he opened his eyes.

Janus' eyes widened and he immediately cursed himself for backing up. Great. He was all about putting up a fight and a second later, he was cowering. ‘Talk about blowing smokes.’ He at the very least kept his glare from fading away. He couldn't be scared of him. He couldn't show it. He was simply surprised... He had to make that a challenge for him, Deceit was not a side you could see right through, after all.

« You seem to have a quite... Interesting dancing style » King spoke, an almost mocking grin showing as he looked down at Janus. Crap. Did he knew ? Was he there the whole time ?

As the tyrant lift his hand, Janus snaps back into reality, setting his guard up and putting a stronger grasp on his cane. Only for the object to sudenly float in the air, shining with bright light and transforms into a sword that Janus grabbed back before it falls on the floor. This left only more confusion in the half-snake, confusion which turns into alert when he lifts his gaze back at the King only to be met with another blade. He jumps back.

« W... What ? » Janus was lost.

« Wouldn't you try and learn an acutal fighting technique ... » King's voice was composed, but also slightly amused at Deceit's confusion.

«... instead of the poor travesty I just witnessed ? » until it all vanished in favor of annoyance.

Janus tried to process the words as King switched his position for a dueling one. His sword in front of him, his torso on the side and his feet dug on the ground. Was he.... what ? What was happening ?? One thing sure was that he invited Janus to mirror his behaviour. And so he did, taking a deep breath, and standing still while carrying his sword to cross the others. And before he figured out what to do next, King took three blows and sent Janus' sword flying through the air and crashing on the ground.

« Whoa wHoa WHOA ! Hold on ! » Janus lifted his hands in defense and gulped as the blade of his enemy got dangerously close to his throat.

He then heard a chuckle, and the blade finally got away from his neck. « It was just too tempting. » He snapped his finger and the sword flew right back to Janus' hand, who was still confused.

« Alright, for real this time, I let you give the first blow. »

Janus hesitated, still not sure if the scene before him was really happening, but quickly composed himself. He came back to mirroring King's posture and came with a serious expression. He quickly analysed how he could start and how he could win the fastest. When he assumed to find a way to win quickly, he lifts his sword up and went for it.

Boy, was his assumption wrong.

He thought he'd move faster, but the moment the sword swingged on the left, King's weapon caught him off guard, and it only took two quick slays for Janus' to fly in the air again. He felt baffled and humiliated. And the amused smile from his opponent didn't boost his ego at the moment.

« How ? » He didn't understand. Even his instincts weren't nearly as fast as the King, and the tyrant didn't get the chance to train in years !

He only got an arrogant giggle in response before the sword flew back to Deceit's hand. Janus frowned deeper and dug his feet in the ground, ready to jump. King did not miss, nor cared for deceit's threat.

« Again. » He simply ordered. He only had to move his arm to be back to his initial position. Was there a point to it ? Or did his tyrant just liked to put him through this childish show of superiority ?

For some reason, Janus obeyed.

And lost.

Again.

« Try again. » the King ordered.

The other obliged.

After the 4th time the sword flew back into the yellow side, he had to face it : This was happening. King was training him to sword fight. And he just... accepted it ??? What ?? How was this happening ? Usually, he would try to bite back, make some remark, try to hurt him, but here he just... went along with it. And King seemed pleased with that. He looked...content. He looked satisfied with giving Janus private lesson. This moment... against all odds... felt... not as bad as he expected.

The more they fought, the less cold the tyrant was, and the less tense they both get. King stopped trying to bring him to his knees and instead looked like he a professor, excited to give his student something to work on.

Of course, he would never admit it, but in this instant, in this moment of intimacy and challenge devoted from any animosity... It was calming, it was like a fresh wind coming after a heat wave of chaos, and the adrenaline that came from the fight was giving him enough energy to savour every second of it.

Wait.

No.

No no no no no.

He wasn't enjoying it. He wasn't enjoying it at all. He could not appreciate what was happening : the sadistic bastard was bellitling him and humiliating him right now ! And worst part is ? He couldn't even do anything about it ! Because King is so freacking good at sword fighting and Janus' main weapon has been turnd into a sword for crying out loud. There was no time to lust over past relationship !

And another game lost.

« I told you to pay attention to what was happening high up. Looking at my chest is not going to do much if you want to predict where or when I'm going to hit next. I thought you'd know that. »

« I was simply lost in another train of thought, I hope you could forg- »

DON'T.

FINISH

THIS WORD.

'You be submissive, god dammnit.' He thought to himself before clearing his throat and returning to his cunning voice. He had to keep his distance.

« I don't need you to tell me that. I was simply lost in thought. Do you really I am this much of an idiot ? »

« Well, you didn't prove me otherwise yet so. » He chuckled low and got ready for yet another one. « En garde. »

Even though he couldn't hide the joy he was feeling at the moment, he could mask it behind his usual calm appearance.

« And how many times are we going to do this ? » He asked, his tone playing between teasing and bored

«Until you get some actual fighting skills. » King answered, playing along.

« Ouch. I think I prefer the wounds caused by your sword. »

« Well then hurry up and grab your weapon. » Damn it. Why did they seem to get along of all sudden ?

« As you wish. This was merely a warm up. » he lied

« I do not doubt it any second. »

And just like that, the conversation became non-verbal again.

…

Truth be told, neither knew how long they've been fighting. Was it an hour ? Three hours ? 20 minutes ?

Truth be told, neither cared.

All janus knew is that he was getting better and better, almost becoming a challenge to the King , and the other side seemed glad to step up and fight with more intensity.

And both completely forgot to hide their excitement.

Janus started to tease king, even when he was clearly losing, and the other responded with as much sarcasm and complicity. The two glared at each other with malice and playfulness the whole time. And both couldn't help but smile.

And just like that, it felt as if they never left each other.

When he was younger, Janus and his king would play around with wooden swords, roleplaying like two ennemy seeking vengence in the most childish way. Janus sometimes would fake losing so he could see his king's proud smile which was worth losing 10 times again. His king would sometimes lose and janus would feel a feeling of acomplishment that was very strange to him, in a pleasant way. And at the end, they would most of the time lay down on the green grass and just talk about everything and anything.

And right now, he felt like he was playing with his king. Only the swords weren't made of wood anymore, and it was more professional. But still, it felt the same.

And it felt ...pleasant.

He could hear himself laugh just like when he was younger, and if he listened closely, he could feel king chuckle just like his king.

And it felt … nice.

From the talk, to the movement, both were on edge, calculating every move and waiting for an opportinity to strike. It was an amazing strategy game combined with pure raw strenght. And King's fighting style was both very classical and yet creative. He was very crafty and Janus only had to rival with his own tricks. They were in the moment, living fully the present.

And it felt...

And dear lord, it felt so, so good.

He could feel himself fly as he dodged, he could feel fire in his vein when he was about to strike down, he felt his head spinning, yet everything around him was so crystal clear, it was like a dance. A disturbing, aggressive, cold and passionate dance.

A dance...

They used to dance before.

His king and himself.

Most of the time, when they were done fighting, they would lay down on the grass. Most of the time.

Sometimes, he could have the biggest honor of all.

'Now, my dear, would you enjoy a waltz with me ?' his king offered his hand

-'I don't want to step on your foot again'

-'I told you you didn't hurt me ! Come now, it's not your job to be scared.'

despite his defensive approach, he adored those dances.

-'Alright, I'll dance with you. '

How did it go again ?

1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3.

Left, right, right, wait no, was it left again ?

1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3

step up, forward, step back, and one turn and another. His king would have his hand on Janus' shoulder and Janus would have his hand on his king's waist. And they would dance, and the music filled the air, and his king would have made a room just for them to dance.

1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3

Turn around, then left then back up.

1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3

Then caught in their trance

1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3

They would just spin around, and turn and spin and spin again and everything was spinning around them and they could only see each other and the whole world was spinning and it was just them. Just the two of them.

And they would smile and they would laugh and everything was still spinning around them and it was blissfull, passionate, affectionnate and in they would join their hands once more and their finger would interlace and once their hands was only one thing, they would lift it in the air with bravery as a victory for their hapiness.

And he would lift his hand in the air, with his king.

And they would lift their hands, hold together, in the air.

And they would yell a victory choir.

King's sword fell on the ground.

And he had his hand on King's chest.

Oh lord, he was too close to King.

Their faces were only two inches apart.

And Janus visibly forgot how to breath.

King was staring with wide eyes, clearly not expecting Janus to send his sword flying nor getting this close. None of them dared move an inch, and none of them could breath.

What... what just happened ?

How could Janus get so caught up in his dreams that he erased whatever was happening in front of him ? And how did this stupid dance from years ago helped him beat the King to his game ? And how could he, despite everything, try to search for his king's eyes in the tyrant that stood in front of him ?

Right now, the King's red and green eyes were flickering into orange glimps and his look was just tearing Janus up from the inside. He looked ready to cut his throat open if he had his sword in hand.

And yet …

For only a moment, only for a single instant, did Janus find his King shining through the side in front of him.

Sadly, this bloom inside of Janus' heart got cut fast as thorns grapped him and pulled him far away from his The King, and before he realized what was happening, the thons just gripped tighter and tighter, making Janus unable to hide the jolt of pain.

He struggled, trying to get away from the grasp, but they only tightened and eventually, he stopped, gasping for air. He tried to look back at the tyrant, who was simply observing with a serious expression, the joy of the past moments seemingly dissapeared the moment Janus got too close. And now, he was back to being a threat. Without looking away, he move forward, with slow steps. Janus tried to manage a sentence but the pain was too high for him to form anthing coherent. Eventually, The King was in front of Janus, and the yellow side swore he was about to get killed right on the spot, but instead he just kneeled down, grapping back the sword that flew away.

Oh.

He got up and, with the other hand, brushed over the blade. Without looking away from it, he spoke : « You fought well. » He lift his eyes to meet Janus, struggling not to faint, and determined to look at him with rage. The corner of his lips twiched into the smallest of smirk and he turned back, opening the gap between the two.

And as the King took his steps, Janus' eyes widened, realizing what King was about to do.

'No.'

'No. Not again.'

'Don't leave. '

'Please'

'Don't leave me again. '

He turned into a snake to got away from the thorns and rushed towards him, ready to grip his cape. Anything. Anything but that. He was so close...

But the thorns got Janus back before he could make it.

He couldn't even hear his own grunts of pain. All he could listen to was the sound of footsteps, and a windblow that made King dissapear. Janus froze in place.

And the silence that grew in the room was deafening.

After what felt like an enernity, the thorns let go of Janus, who simply fell on his knees shaking. He hugged himself as hard as he could, and curled on himself.

He tried to fight back tears that wouldn't stop to threaten to fall.

And none of them ever left his eyes. Just like no wound ever left his heart.

------------------------- WHOOOOOO What a ride! This was really fun to write and the challenge of putting words on the visuals your head come up with is certainly something. Now, I hope you didn’t expect things for them to get better just like that, huh? ;) There is too much they need to discuss before being close to make peace, so that’ll have to wait! I have other ideas for those two so I’ll see if I get motivated to write it out. Hope you liked it!! :D

#Sanders sides #fanfic #janus sanders #king creativity #Kingceit #fanfiction #King!AU #rondoel #swordfight #The begining of Janus being a pinning disaster with a lot of emotional bagage #probably OOC #not a happy ending #Janus being a nostalgic little man #and King being conflicting as always #most probably screaming internally at the dramatic disaster in front of him #It's not easy being the king of a himbo's brain

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rachelbethhines · 4 years

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Tangled Salt Marathon - You're Kidding Me

So we’ve finally come to the last of season two’s filler episodes. Let’s see if we can knock this one out real quick.

Summary: The front door of the mysterious seashell estate vanishes, trapping the group. They try to find another way out but find a spinning top whose magic regresses Cassandra and Lance into toddlers and Shorty into a baby. They’ve only have an hour to find the top and reverse the effects or the changes become permanent. Unfortunately neither of Rapunzel’s or Eugene’s parenting methods keep their now childish friends on task.

So Why Did No One Stand Watch Last Night?

They were all sleeping right next to the entrance, and after the run in with the mirror monsters, you would think that they would have taken turns standing watch.

But nope, the front door vanishes when no one was looking cause they don't have any foresight.

A Low Budget Doesn’t Excuse Filler

Like most of season two, this is yet another episode that adds very little to the overall story. It’s slightly better than the Return of Quaid or Curses, but not by much. I put it on the same level as The Forest of No Return, as I do like the mains’ development, but there’s really no reason why such episodes exist to begin with.

The meta reason for staying in certain places for three episodes, instead of only one or two, is because of budgetary reasons. The crew have to build new sets and models for every new location or person the cast comes across. This costs money to make, so the higher ups wanted to reuse assets. Which is understandable, but not an excuse for utilizing them poorly.

If you need to stay in one area or have characters reappear, then you need to give story reasons for that. Ones that tie back to the overall narrative and/or the mains’ character arcs.

The shell house and Matthews should be more important than what they are as they both have connections to the ultimate big bad of the series.Adria shouldn’t be wasted for a whole episode when she’s the only one driving the plot in season two and has limited appearances. Vardaros and its people shouldn’t be a one and done thing if you’re going to spend so much time setting them up. And there’s still one off episodes, locations, and characters who aren’t brought back and add nothing

Not only does this make for a weaker story, it also undermines the cost saving measures that you tried to implement to begin with.

This Isn’t Representation!

Get it?!

She’s a top!

She’s totally gay, but like not really, cause this can also be interpreted as a dominatrix joke, and there’s no other real indication of her orientation outside her like smiling at her best friend/crush/sister sometimes and keeping that rose her creepy ex-boyfriend gave her.

And don't give me any bullshit excuses about Disney not letting the crew make Cassandra canonly gay/bi.

The Owl House aired just this year, the same year as Tangled’s final season. Also Globby and Carl from Big Hero Six were both confirmed to be a couple on screen a month after this episode came out. Both shows would have been in development at the same time as Tangled was. Both would have been subject to the same regulations and restrictions while writing their stories.

It isn’t “Disney” that stopped the storyboard artists from having Cass be a confirmed lesbian, it’s Chris and Ben, the head writers themselves, who failed to write it into the story properly, if at all.

Chris is the one who made Raps and Cass “sisters”. Chris is the one who wouldn’t tell the crew about his ‘twists’. Chris is the one who had Cass crush on Andrew, even after he tried to kill her. Chris is the one who made Cassandra ‘straight’ and has since used gay baiting to keep her fanbase in his pocket.

Like I am really damn sick and tired of Casspunzel stans defending Chris on twitter, when he’s the very one who sunk thier ship to begin with. I’m also really fed up with certain fans trying to bully others for not accepting their “Cass is a lesbian” headcanons as fact because what the storyboarders say on twitter after the show is over with isn’t gospel and isn’t real rep.

I don’t care if you ship Cass with Raps or headcanon her as being gay. Ships and headcanons are great and can be a lot of fun. But fuck you if you ever try to shame people for not sharing your ships/headcanons. Not only is it biophobic and acephobic to insist that there’s only ever a binary option when it comes to orientation and shipping, but it also reinforces harmful stereotypes and tropes about people in the queer community.

Like, yes, I personally may be an introverted angry bitch who’s an LBGTQA member and activist, but that doesn’t mean that every introverted bitchy woman in media is a lesbian. What kind of message does that send people when that’s the only character archetype that’s given representation or is loudly proclaimed as ‘gay’ by the wider audience? Fuck that noise!

I Know Humor is Subjective but...WHY?

Why did we give the baby a beard? How does that logically work? Did anyone outside of the crew actually find this funny?

TTS has like this one out of touch dude throwing out jokes that don’t really land with the target audience. Fans have called it ‘boomer humor’ but it’s actually ‘Gen-X’ humor. Not only because Chris and Ben are Gen Xers but because this is the type of crap my older brother would find hilarious.

Gen Xers are between Boomers and Millennials and so their humor is this weird blend of gross out shock humor, ironic nihilism, and out of date stereotypes that are only mildly better than those of the previous generation before them. They’re the generation who gave us Beavis and Butthead, South Park, and Clerks.

That’s not a criticism of Gen X as a generation, but rather just an acknowledgment that they’re worlds away from the neo-dada absurdism, more socially conscious, and globalized humor of Gen Z.

So Why Is the Bad Guy Telling the Heroes How to Foil His Plans?

Like he not only tells them how to fix their problem and how long they got in order to do so, but he also informs them how it happened in the first place. This goes directly against his plans. Had he simply said nothing and stayed out sight, then Raps and Eugene would have been lost for the full hour and most likely not have saved everyone on time.

I like to headcanon that Mathews is just “that asshole” that loves to taunt and tease but in a that manner that gives him plausible deniability. He also may just be bored, since he’s a ghost trapped in one place all the time. Yet that still doesn’t change the fact that he shot himself in the foot here.

Raps and Young Cass’s Relationship Is the Same as Raps and Adult Cass’s, and That Is a Problem.

Condescending, manipulative, hypocritical, and bossy is the way Rapunzel treats everyone. She doesn’t understand the actual difference between a child and an adult. She only understands who she who she can and can’t boss around. And those people that she can’t place under her thumb are labeled antagonists by the show.

Nor does she actually care about what either kid Lance or kid Cass has to say. She’s just being proformative, and young Cass can see through that BS, which why her methods do not work. It’s not because she’s not ‘strict’ enough; it’s because she’s not being honest.

Meanwhile Child Cassandra is just as combative, rude, bullying, and entitled as Adult Cassandra. In season three she regresses even further and becomes more violent than before.

Unlike Rapunzel, Cassandra wasn’t trapped in a tower for 18 years with zero human contact outside of her abuser. She escaped that fate and was raised in a loving home. That doesn’t mean that there won't be scars, but I still expect her to be more mature than her seven year old self. Just because she’s whining about not being special enough at 24 instead of screaming about the floor being lava doesn’t mean that she’s still not throwing a temper tantrum.

Like I should not be seeing a replay/foreshadowing of their main conflict here. They aren’t children. They’re dynamic isn’t that of a mother and child. It’s not even a big sister looking out for a little sister type relationship. Its two immature women dragging innocent victims into their bitchy cat fight for dominance over the other.

If you want me to take their issues seriously then give them real stakes to disagree over, mature behavior that I can root for, and a resolvement that doesn’t reverse any potential development that they could have had.

Matthews Plan Makes Zero Sense

For starters, half the group being kids isn’t enough of a reason for Rapunzel to stay at the shell house. Even if the effects of the time top became permanent, then Raps and Eugene could just leave and take the kids with them. Either to finish the road trip, or go straight back to Corona. Not that there’s any real reason to get the Dark Kingdom anyways, nor is there a ticking clock stopping Raps from trying again later if she chose to.

Rapunzel also is not obligated to become anyone’s mother. If she took them back to Corona than Cap would undoubtedly raise Cassandra all over again, and Lance and Shorty could be adopted by someone else. Any of the pub thugs might take them or even perhaps the King and Queen since they missed out on raising their actual daughter. Though for my money I’d get Monty or Xavier to take them in. They seem the most mature and both are shown to be good with kids.

Then again Rapunzel has been shown twice now to not give a damn about abandoning orphans, so even the ‘dump them at an orphanage’ or ‘leave them alone in the woods to fend for themselves’ isn’t entirely off the table either. I wish I was joking, but I’m not. Sadly, only Eugene’s love for Lance might be the one thing to stop her from doing just so, and even that’s iffy.

As for the missing door from earlier, if that was all that was stopping them from leaving then the time top shenanigans were fully unnecessary altogether.

I Actually Like Eugene and Rapunzel’s Conflict Here; I Just Wish It Was In a Better Episode.

Each of their viewpoints stem from their upbringing.

Rapunzel is unique in that she was simultaneously emotionally abused and neglected while being physically spoiled. Especially once she found out that she was princess, where she was then handed nearly anything and everything she wanted. She doesn’t recognize that getting your every possible whim come true can be damaging. Nor does she have any comprehension of what living in poverty is like and how this many toys is wasteful to someone like Eugene who had so very little and stole to survive.

She does however associate limits, boundaries, and orders with abusive behavior because she’s been denied autonomy and respect her whole life. She’s never seen what healthy parenting looks like and how rules can be applied correctly.

To Rapunzel no orders is ‘freeing’ and ‘validation’ is all that is needed to get a child to listen to you. Which doesn’t work for her because she doesn’t understand that real communication is more than just giving a compliment now and then.

Meanwhile Eugene lacked any sort of anchor at all. He was left to his own devices at a young age and had no one to rely on for emotional needs and, after leaving the orphanage, no one to provide physical needs either.

It’s telling that he and Lance latched onto Quaid as the only authority figure in their life, despite Quaid never out right adopting them. He was the only sense of stability that they had who they could trust wouldn’t hurt them, despite being strict with them.

And now that Eugene has gotten older and is reformed, he can probably understand why Quaid was so harsh on him and Lance. Quaid probably did more to try and help them turn from a life crime than even Rapunzel did. Like meeting Rapunzel was the inciting incident that inspired Eugene to make that leap, but the groundwork was already laid out for him to do so elsewhere. Things like his good communication skills, respect and empathy of others, and understanding of boundaries had to be learned from somewhere, and if not from the Sheriff of Vardaros than who?

What I’m getting at is that, while Rapunzel rejects her parents methods but then fails to break her learned habits from them anyways, Eugene is the reverse. He’s come to embrace his mentor’s teachings, but he fails to implement them correctly because he’s not Quaid. Being authoritative isn’t his strong suit. It goes against his usual nature as the easy going person that he is and so any attempts to come across as forceful fail as they’re hollow.

Kids know authenticity and genuineness when they see it. The children reject Rapunzel because she’s not being real with them, yet they also reject Eugene cause he’s not being honest with himself.

It’s a complex and mature conflict. Neither person is fully right nor wrong, and only by learning from each other and adopting both methods can they achieve their goal.

TTS can be deep when it wants to be. There’s a good foundation here for mature themes and complex characterization. It’s just the series doesn’t ever commit to it.

Whatever personal drama going on here about two young adults trying to cope with their past traumas and how that affects their current life and future goals is completely lost in the magical goofy antics and low stakes situation. Even the stuff about Eugene and his relationship with Quaid is reduced to nothing but a one off joke rather than being genuinely explored as a point of development.

Imagine how much more powerful things would have been if Angry and Red were brought along on the trip. If this argument was over them and whether or not they should adopt the two girls themselves or consider other options. That would be something with real weight. Something with a choice that had actual consequences attached to it. Something that would permanently affect all involved parties. Something that wouldn’t make the two leads look like outright dicks for abandoning two children for a second damn time in a row.

You Have 70 Feet of Magical, Indestructible Hair! Why Are You Afraid of a Bunch of Dogs!?

You’ve fought off giant monsters, killer robots, and supernatural beings with magical powers. What do you mean you can’t hold off a pack of guard dogs while busting down a stuck door? Why is Eugene the shield for everyone and not the actual unbreakable hair that you use as a shield all the damn time? And Why did we have to rely on Shorty again to be the deus ex machina of the episode?

At this point the writers should have just made him Demantius instead of the monkey.

What Happened To This New Dream? Where Did It Go In Season Three?

Most fans who do enjoy season two happen to be big New Dream fans as this is by far and away the best season for them. I’ll admit that the series, up to this point, had me actively liking them together, despite being originally lukewarm to the pairing in the movie.

Their conflicts were for the the most part mature and real. They learned from one another equally and had open communication when it didn't involve ‘marriage is a trap’ BS. Things, like compromising on differentiating future goals, honesty and communication, and making time for one another and extending effort into a relationship while being true to yourself are all relatable issues.

Even today's episode featured the topic of having kids and parenting. Which is a discussion you absolutely need to have with your prospective spouse before entering into any long term commitments and signing any legal contracts. For real, I’ve seen marriages fall apart because they didn’t agree on whether or not they wanted children.

I don’t know what went down between writing season two and season three, but things quickly took a sharp turn away from this dynamic and nosedived into a pit of uncomfortable bullying and gross sexist implications here after.

Matthews Plan Goes Against Zhan Tiri’s Plan

Yeah so Matthews is one of Zhan Tiri’s disciples, but he apparently doesn’t know of her goals/plans, cause she needs Rapunzel and company to reach the moonstone, not stay stuck here.

The meta reason for this that the Zhan Tiri’s story was altered at the last minute and the writers failed to make sure there was any sort of consistency between what they already set up and where they actually wound to actually taking the plot.

The in universe reason is that Zhan Tiri is an impotent moron, but that’s not what the writers were going for so it’s a fail.

Conclusion

I like the New Dream stuff, and Matthews is at least entertaining despite being incompetent. Everything else about the episode is ‘meh’ tho.

#tangled #rapunzel's tangled adventure #tangled the series #anti-tangled #anti-rapunzel #anti-cassandra #eugene

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bigskydreaming · 4 years

Note

remember when devin grayson wrote about green arrow flirting with teenager dick grayson and then bruce and dick have an incestuous relationship............................

Listen, I have no idea what this ask says, I just see a string of random letters followed by dot dot dot.

In completely unrelated matters, the only dynamic between Dick and Ollie I abide by is one where the nicest thing Dick’s ever said to Ollie is something like “hey why does your face look like you killed a squirrel and glued it to your chin, is that what you were going for or do people just not like you and so nobody ever told you til now that that’s what it looks like.”

And even there, that’s still just the best Dick could manage (or was willing to even aim for) after Bruce gave Dick a totally and one hundred percent genuine and sincere Talking To about how he needed to be more polite to Ollie. Cuz the way I envision it, all that’s after Dick initially opened with something like, idk, “hey wanna hear a funny joke, it goes “what do you call a known Errol Flynn fanboy who thinks putting on a domino mask when he fights crime with a bow and arrow like, magically makes his goatee invisible? A dumbass who doesn’t get how secret identities work, that’s what. Get it, its you, you’re the joke.”

LOL for the record, I don’t actually hate Ollie and have no really strong opinions on him one way or another, it usually just depends on how he’s being written in whatever story or issue I’m reading with him. Its just canon that Ollie is like, one of the few people that Dick just openly can not stand, pretty much, with this stretching back far enough that personally, I like to headcanon it goes all the way back to even before Ollie took Roy in and has absolutely nothing to do with Roy whatsoever.

Idk, its just really fucking funny to me to picture that like, for whatever reason, ten year old Dick Grayson decided upon meeting the Justice League that they were all awesome except for Oliver Queen. Dick doesn’t know why, he doesn’t care why, he just knows that like, “I do not care for that Oliver Queen guy, not one bit, and no, I am not open to constructive criticism on this matter, UGH BRUCE STOP TELLING ME I SHOULD AT LEAST TRY AND BE NICER TO HIM, I SAID HE WAS A BUTTFACE AND I MEANT IT, WHERE’S THE CONFUSION.”

Because see, while Ollie is not Actually The Worst, he IS one of the League heroes who is prideful and petty enough to like, absolutely take offense to someone hating his guts for no discernible reason, while considering this more than reason enough to hate their guts right back. Even if that particular someone happens to have both miles and years left to go before they hit either puberty or the top side of five feet tall, and thus in the meanwhile, Ollie must literally lower himself in every sense of the word in order to return fire at his pint-sized and prepubescent critic.

Like, if Dick for whatever reason decided he just doesn’t like Superman or the Flash and he’s not gonna and you can’t make him, then I mean, Clark or Barry or someone else along those lines would just be like, oh, okay, that’s fair I guess. No, its totally fine Bruce, the adorable little human incarnation of glitter, cotton candy and all things Cute and Precious and Wee that you just took in is allowed to hate me if he wants to, its absolutely *wheezing sob* not a big deal. I’m a big boy, I don’t need you to intercede on my behalf with him. Now if anyone needs me, I’ll be wallowing in my room for the next 84 years, trying to figure out if I was some kind of monstrous puppy-kicker in a previous lifetime and that’s why my fate here in this one is to be despised by a ten year old with the superpower of Absolute Preciousness. Its my punishment, clearly, for being just the worst kind of monster to ever exist, the only kind that could actually be hated by someone like your adorable little Fun-Sized sidekick of joy and sunshine and l-l-laughter......no, don’t look at me, I’m hideous! *bursts into tears and scurries away to hide from the light*

But see now, Ollie, on the other hand, like.....he’s not a monster but he’s not about to let even some paragon of preciousness go around painting him as one. Why the fuck does he spend so much money on publicists if he’s just gonna roll over belly-side up the first time one of the people bad-mouthing him just happens to be like, a toddler instead of the usual TMZ?

So Ollie’s not about to admit that he’s actually miffed and even a little bit wounded that this cherub who seems to like even most supervillains more than he likes Ollie, just like, can not seem to be in his presence longer than sixty seconds before drawing his weapons and stabbing Ollie with words that hurt, dammit, because he has feelings too, y’know, he spent a lot of money on pricey therapists figuring out that yes, those are feelings he’s feeling and he can even name some of them.....

Like, he’s not quite on board with actually ACKNOWLEDGING that hey this stings, and that he really just wants to know what the hell this kid’s deal is and why don’t you like me, tiny human, what did I ever even do to you??? But all of that is like......Advanced Level Therapy stuff that he hasn’t quite gotten around to finishing yet at this point in time. Like yeah he’s already dropped a mint on the A-list of the head-shrinking world by now, but apparently he was supposed to keep coming back or something like that, they all keep making a really big deal about that for some reason, and look, he’s been busy. So he really just hasn’t had the time to finish up the course on How To Make Peace With the Fact That Sometimes Tiny Humans Don’t Like Me Even Though I’m A Fucking Delight, Dammit.

But even if the why of this kid getting under his skin so much eludes him for the nonce, Ollie is perfectly clear on one thing: he doesn’t typically go around making enemies of the twelve and under set, but if you prick him, he doth in fact bleed, you little prick. So if this knee-high nightmare is gonna keep coming at me and trying to start shit, then I am more than willing to throw down, is basically Ollie’s take here.

“He wants to dance? Then c’mon, let’s do this thing. We can dance if he wants to. I’ve got the time,” Ollie says to himself and any other nearby Justice Leaguer who might be looking at him with that swiftly-becoming-familiar expression of mingled judgment, pity, exasperation and something a bit more ambiguous but which probably lands somewhere in the ballpark of “We honestly don’t know what to make of all of this but we’re all a little concerned This Is Not A Good Look, Bro. And also, we would like to formally request by way of this petition with all 200+ signatures of Leaguers and auxiliary members and support staff: please don’t escalate this into something where Batman might actually kill you, because that’s definitely not gonna make any of this less awkward for the rest of us, and uh....not to be indelicate here, but all those times we’ve all said things like no Ollie, we don’t think Bruce is a better fighter than you and we absolutely agree with you, you could totally maybe take him in a fair fight if you had your bow and arrows on you and he had the flu probably.....like. Umm. How to put this....Okay, soooooo....here’s the thing. There may, perhaps, ever so slightly be a possibility slash definite hardcore certainty that there were fib-like qualities to those conversations. A little bit. Oh hey, look at the time, we gotta run, there’s a fire somewhere, hopefully. Lol wait whoops did we say hopefully, that’s so weird like where did that even come from. We definitely meant to say probably. There’s a fire somewhere, probably."

But look, at the end of the day, the thing is, Headcanon Ollie is not like, proud of any of this, but he’s not unproud of it either. He is hashtag justified and he wouold appreciate some validation of that Ugly Truth, even if it might go against the grain and not ever exactly be a POPULAR opinion with the “please don’t tell the ten year old that nuh uh, his face looks like a hairy butthole, nobody wins there, that is not the victory you are looking for” crowd.

Honestly though, at this point Ollie’s list of Big Asks is quite small. Miniscule, even. All he wants, all he really really wants, is for someone, anyone, to join him in grasping the one essential corn kernel at the heart of this whole clusterfuck. The thing that nobody but Ollie seems to get and that Ollie’s pretty sure would be enough to allow him to die happily, if he could just manage to find one other person to sign on to the one single extremely obvious observation he keeps trying to point out to everyone, with a whole lot of nada to show for it:

Because see, the one thing about all of this that drives Ollie just absolutely up a wall, is that for some reason he can’t seem to get anyone to understand that like.....this whoooooole ridiculous mess, just like, even in terms of its very existence in the first place?

None of it is Ollie’s fault.

Dick started it!

Mere moments after frustratedly trying to convey this to Dinah for the umpteenth million bajillionth time:

“Okay, could you at least say something?” Ollie asked exasperatedly. “Anything? Seriously, I would take you counting to ten in Cantonese as an acceptable response at this point.”

“I’m just trying to decide which concerns me more,” Dinah said at last. Several epochs and the equivalent of the entire Jurassic Period later. But whatever, its not like Ollie was holding his breath at this point or anything. “The fact that you are genuinely trying to find and occupy the moral high ground in your feud with....a ten year old. Or that you actually think you’ve found it. That this is it, this is what that looks like. ‘The ten year old started it.’”

That was apparently all Dinah had to say. She fell silent again, and said silence lingered through a recreation of now the entire Cretaceous Period, before continuing into a revival of the whole Paleozoic Era from start to torturous finish.

“Well?” Ollie said with a patience that belied the urgency of the many pressing matters he had to attend to. Like the vanquishing of a ten year old archnemesis most foul.

Dinah just continued to frown pensively.

“Hang on, I’m still deciding.”

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lixiefe · 4 years

Text

Can’t Touch- k.sm

Chapter Four: Say Yes to the Dress

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: none for now.

YOU WERE zoning out into your daydreams, head rested on your propped up hand, with a mysterious smile adorning your face. You were almost unaware of your ongoing surroundings, and oblivious of the customers hollering for service. Much irritated, your co-worker bluntly yelled at you to continue with your work and flicked you out of your comforting trance, making you frown.

That day, Seungmin didn’t talk to you much but you remembered him asking you what your favorite flower was. his voice exotically melodious. Yet had a lazy hint to it that you swore that you could drift to sleep anytime if he continued talking.

At that moment, you almost forgot which earthen flower you loved, forgot what he’d even asked in the first place. You didn’t know if you wanted to be embarrassed or grateful for your forgetful nature because he had had to repeat it again, in an enhanced voice. You’d answered afterwards that you liked plumeria and orange roses. He asked you several more questions relating to that, which you found sort of uncanny for starters. But you believed he was making an effort to get to know you.

Seungmin had also asked you if you liked bands or rings. You were utterly confused. You were such an illiterate in cases of accessories and it showed. So you had questioned back what a band was, and you saw him break out into the most wondrous eye smile ever. His smile covered his face with the edges of this lips curved up and showcasing commercial-worthy set of teeth. And then you’d answered that you were permissive about either.

And that was enough to keep you thinking all throughout the day.

This was your last part time since you had to go for dress shopping in the evening. The seamstress was outright shocked to hear that you only had about a month time before your marriage. She was flustered over the chances of no fitting, or too much time-consuming extensions, or simply the short preparation time she’d get. So you needed to hurry and choose a dress as soon as possible, even better if it didn’t need extensive add-ons.

Even though this marriage didn’t mean much to you, since it was arranged, you wanted a dream dress. Like every other lucky women out there, or even the women from ‘Say Yes to the Dress’ who settled upon outrageous choices and flung around money like mere printed materials. But you couldn’t afford anything too expensive so you needed lay low.

You also desired that the choosing of wedding venue, decoration and other prerequisite things could favor your preferences and opinion. And that the flowers would be of your liking. But you brushed the uneasiness away.

Now that the realization of current events dawned upon you, it all seemed so much unbelievable, like a temporary dream you’d forget most of. You couldn’t believe you were getting married this early. You had never imagined yourself getting wed to someone in your near future.

You were styling yourself to look a tad bit presentable, since it was not only your mother who was going with you but your future mother in law was also tagging along. You felt nervous since you really didn’t want to seem like you opposed her choices if you didn’t like what she did.

You didn’t know how she'd react, and you dreaded the possibility of your choices clashing against one another. It was your first time not entirely window shopping. Be it alone or be it with another person. She wasn’t categorically a stranger but you didn’t know her well.

As you calculated the endless mental probabilities, you finished with your hair and decided to leave your face alone. You were grateful that your skin was nourished and naturally suave. But that blessing also brought you to taking advantage of it.

You went downstairs to see your mom drinking a glass of water, already dressed and good to go. “Are we leaving already?” You asked your mother.

You saw her wear a smile and motion you to come towards her. It had been so long since you've seen your mother be this giddy, and you couldn’t want anything more than that. She wore an almost nude lipstick and even applied a thin coat of eyeliner. She looked beautiful. You couldn't but burst out in a joyous smile.

“Seonhee has sent a car for us, the chauffeur is waiting outside already. Shall we leave?” she asked, holding your arm. Your smile brightened even more seeing her so excited. You pried her hand off of your arm and secured them into yours, mumbling let's go.

You and your mother met Mrs. Kim on the spot. You eyes glossed with the blinding luxuriant lights and opulent architecture. The building stood there like a modish heraldry, somewhere pageants and off-limit events would be held. You knew you couldn’t even afford a tiny veil from this place for your absent dog and it made you tug your mothers hands back. You looked down at her with widened eyes.

“Mom, I think we're at the wrong place.” You said, much-stilled. Your mother waved her hand in dismissal and dragged you inside, making you flinch at your feet before you were swayed away inside the lush environment. You wondered if she had ulterior planning since both of you knew your financial condition wasn’t stable enough to afford such expenses.

Just as you thought the outside was extravagant, the inside was even more sumptuous and complex. You saw fancy mannequins here and there with profuse and elegant dresses. Of which most probably cost more than your 8 months income combined. To say you were afraid was an understatement, you were terrified on how you could manage to shop for your dress from here.

Cutting your doubtful thoughts Mrs. Kim made her way to you. She briefly greeted you, enclosing you into an embrace. Your mouth opened and closed, unable to greet her back as you gawked at the amenity displayed around you. You only gave her a curt bow, mind still flurrying with the possibility that you would not get your dress.

This is beyond extravagant.

“Mrs. Kim, I don’t think--” you were cut off when the said woman rushed to throw her arms around your mother, before turning back to you with a generous smile. “Don’t worry about the cost at all, Y/N. I will take care of that. I need you to look as stunning as possible.” She said lovingly. And again, you were unable to say anything, you couldn’t form your thoughts into suitable words.

“No, I-I can’t, really-” you couldn’t get the chance to speak out before she shushed you like you were a toddler, refusing to listen to you any further. You had your eyes slightly widened and hands tingling. It was clear that you preferred to be self-sufficient, and it felt as if you were taking in another debt. That too from the same person.

“No buts,” she paused, looking at you in the eye. You saw indescribable emotions in her eyes. Almost as if she was sorrowful, with a little bit of regret. You only looked at her questioningly. “You’re not marrying out of own will, are you? You’re doing this for us, for me. This is the least I can do for you.”

And you reconsidered your decisions. She was right, you were not doing this for yourself, and you were technically forced. Spending money on something that you didn’t originally want, sounded like a proper representation of dictionary waste. But your ego and dignity could not let someone else pay for you. So you looked at her with desperation, refusing her generosity.

She huffed a sigh. You regarded that she’d accepted defeat, which is until she offered you a deal.

“We divide the cost. And if you solely cannot afford it, I pay it whole. I won’t hear any more arguments.” And with that she walked away inside. You were left dumbfounded, with no chances of protest. You slumped your shoulders, thinking that at the end, it was you who had to accept defeat. You looked at your squealing mother, a small smile thriving at your lips as you followed suit of Mrs. Kim.

It was your 8th dress and you were gradually getting more and more tired. The constant cycle of changing into dresses, sucking in you breath when the consultant attached pins to your back, and then slipping out of it was draining you of all your energy. You looked at yourself in the mirror, admiring how the current dress looked on you. For once in your life, you thought you looked way beyond just nice. You could imagine yourself walking down the aisle wearing exactly that dress.

It had an A-line princess body with an illusion neckline and sheer full sleeves. It enhanced your collarbones and your upper body, showcasing your waist in a voluptuous manner. The dress puffed around the rest of your body with oblique rumples adorning your bottom. The precise net-clothe had ivory silk underneath and you could rest your hands on the inflated part of the dress. It had intricate embroidery of flowers encased in a tangle of vines all over the torso and vanishing progressively down the waist. The dress sparkled in your eyes. It was your dream dress and you hoped your mother and Mrs. Kim wouldn’t criticize it for any faults.

This was your Say Yes To The Dress.

You walked out of the changing room, hoisting the gown of your dress for better movement. And as soon as you turned the corner heading to your mother, you saw her let out a gasp. She looked speechless as her eyes followed you steps. You could see that she was slightly teary, her hand ghosting over her mouth.

“Oh lord! You look absolutely gorgeous, my dear.” Mrs. Kim complimented you, thrilled. You gave her a wide smile as an answer, eyes crinkling in delight as you looked at yourself once more. You were happy that they both liked the dress. Your eyes sparkled and you knew the others could see it too. This was the final dress and there was no changing that.

The consultant went to Mrs. Kim and you saw her negotiating with the middle-aged woman. You wanted to go and hear what the consultant was saying but you were pre-occupied with your rushing mother. Now that you’re focusing on your mother, she was actually crying and wiping her tears with a tissue at the same time. You looked at her contented and happy face, feeling glad yourself.

This marriage wasn’t such a curse after all, since you could see your mother so full of life after such a long time. All the thoughts that bothered you about this marriage dissolved like salt in water, leaving your head empty of any objections. And you anticipated just how happy both the mothers would be on your wedding day. Suddenly, you were excited. Not for yourself, but the others.

Besides, you weren’t at all sour about your awfully handsome to-be-husband.

A/n: i was supposed to upload this along with chapter three long before, but tumblr deleted all the edits i made..

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randombtsprincessa · 5 years

Text

Babesitter

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Jeon Jungkook x Reader (2nd POV)

Words: 8.4k

Genre: Smut

Summary: The man babysitting your brother might just be the best homecoming present ever...

Warning: Ditzy Parents, Jungkook being cute with kids, Mentions of a sex toy, Borderline Sexting, Kitchen Blowjobs, first time Deep throating, Commando parties, playing under the dinner table, Oral and fingering, Graphic smut scene, Protected Sex, Dom! Kook

A/N: Happy Birthday, Jungkook, you rabbit that I grudgingly love.

The smooth purr of the car stopped abruptly with your father cutting off the engine, turning to grin at you in the shotgun seat.

“Welcome home, darling. Excited?”

You couldn’t help but grin back at the man. It had been months since you’d seen him last, too busy with graduating your outrageously expensive university to be able to come home for visits. The edges of your old man’s hair were losing their sheen, turning with age yet he was as always beaming and bright.

Time had been very lenient with your father; his looks and his business.

“Yes dad,” you said, enthusiasm pooling into your voice.

You may be an adult now, but you knew your father still saw you as his first-born toddler.

“That’s good, um…” he paused, looking blankly behind him at the suitcases mounted in the backseat, seemingly calculating the number of them with the addition of boxes in the trunk lot.

“Why don’t we go inside first, see your mother, then we can figure out what to do with your luggage?”

You nodded, sliding out of the car after your father as he locked the car, opening the side door of the garage to let you both in.

Heading in, your mother was already waiting for you in the kitchen hallway, an anticipatory smile on her face, breaking out into a squeal at the sight of you.

“Y/N,” she simpered, soft hands cupping your face to pull you in for a hug, your own arms returning the affection automatically.

If your dad was handsome, your mother was beautiful. You knew it must have something to do with them marrying at a very young age, but your parents were in love and you supposed that was enough for them both.

They were the reason why men and sometimes, even women, turned heads to look at you, cooing over your looks but you were nothing if not wary of those compliments.

No, you were going to be mindful and with a head, you’d decided.

No matter that your beauty had gotten you out of several tight holes before.

“Where’s Y/B/N?” You asked, looking up the staircase, wondering if you were going to be accosted with too much laughter and thundering footsteps any second.

“He’s out with his babysitter. We thought we should let you settle in a bit before he pounces on you. He’s missed you.” Your mother patted your face, eyes soon moving away from you towards the living room.

“I’ll get your luggage.” Your dad said, leaving and very soon your mother was gone too, manicured fingers dialing numbers that would occupy her for as long as she wanted.

Well, at least it was a nice homecoming.

You soon ascended the stairs, treading the familiar path to your bedroom, for now a little sparse as you had more or less moved out for university. You critically eyed the stripped bed; you would be placing out the new blue butterfly bed clothes you’d bought last month; that would feel heavenly.

Below, the bustle of your father getting some mover to come over on the phone with your mother chirping in the background was abruptly cut off with a loud crow of laughter and you lightened immediately. A smile tugged at your lips as you closed the door to your room, taking the stairs back down to go meet your younger brother.

Your mother had her front to you in the entrance hall, speaking to a tall, broad backed man who hunched slightly, his hands within reach of the small bundle of excitement gripping onto his long fingers.

You wondered if it was a mover before shaking away the thought. No, your father would deal with that and your brother wouldn’t be so clingy to him.

Even as your rounded the corner to the living room, your brother turned his big, wide eyes to the new arrival, comically screeching when he saw it was you.

“Y/Nie!” He screamed loudly, making your mother and the man jump as you bent down to accept the bouncing boy in your arms.

“Y/B/N, you’ve grown taller.” You smiled large, affection pouring out of your pores as the boy smiled toothily.

“I did, I am a whole 2 feet and…” he trailed off, eyes dropping slightly as he thought of the exact number before giving up, kicking his legs in disappointment before sparking up again.

“Y/N, this is Jungkook! He’s your friend and now he’s my friend too! He babysits me! I like him.” He reached out a stubby small finger to point and you followed it to look at the man, who was beaming in your direction.

You squinted at him, the big front teeth that poked into his lips flaring remembrance of a similar smile, of childhood sand pit meets, of shared lunchboxes before the inevitable parting of ways in high school.

“Jungkook…wait, Jeon Jungkook?”

Your brother was the one who answer, a keening ‘yes’ echoing around you even before the man could open his mouth.

“Yes, Y/N, he’s grown now, isn’t he?” Your mother gushed from behind him. “I was surprised when Y/B/N recognized him, but then we’re friends with his family and Jungkook has been such a help.”

Of course Y/B/N recognized him. The Jeon family was a close friend of your father’s family and you’d been more or less the only kids who saw each other in any form of regularity.

You didn’t remember if you’d ever been genuinely fond of the boy himself and vice versa but he was still your first kindergarten and school friend and he’d been more than enough nice to you.

“Oh now, Mrs. Y/L/N, I haven’t grown that much.” Jungkook scratched his cheek, your mother waving a hand.

“Nonsense, if you were cute then, you’re handsome now. Y/N would agree, wouldn’t you?” Your mother and Jungkook both turned to you and you froze before stammering.

“Uh…yeah, he’s cool.” You coughed.

Jungkook watched you for a second before grinning again. “You’re one to talk, Y/N. You used to be a small brat hanging about the trees with me and now look at you. You’re beautiful.”

You blinked. Did he just indirectly insult you when you’d offered him a compliment? What in the world…

Your brother suddenly stretched himself away from you. “Mom, look at what Jungkook Hyung bought me.” He rushed forward to grab your mother’s hand, dragging her away as they left you and Jungkook alone.

There was a considerable silence as you kept your eye pointed towards the coffee table.

“So…hi,” Jungkook pulled your attention to him.

“Hi,” you replied simply.

Jungkook puffed out his cheeks a little, the light catching onto a small indented scar. You remembered that scar; it had been during middle school, a small mishap in the computer room. Jungkook’s prowess in beating people up had spiked when he’d walked out of the altercation with only that scar.

“So, how was that university of yours?” he asked.

“It was fine. Overpriced as hell, but it was worth it; they actually used the money for what they said they would instead of it going up in flames.” You joked.

“Must’ve been fun, living alone for a bit,” he prompted.

You shrugged. “I missed my family but you know how it is.”

Jungkook nodded. “My mom wouldn’t let me go out of the state. I finished in the city college. The money does go up in flames here.”

There was another pause before he snapped his fingers as if remembering something.

“So, your mom said you had stuff to unpack. You need help with that?”

You swung back a little. “Oh, you don’t need to do that. Thanks though,”

Jungkook shook his head. “I want to help. We can catch up a bit and your dad won’t need to call someone who’ll take ages to do stuff. I mean, how much could it be?”

You bit into your lip, your eyes roving over his sincere posture. He was right. It wasn’t much and movers would only create more hassle.

You settled into a soft smile.

“Alright, I’ll take you up on that.”

Jungkook responded with his own grin, familiar bunny teeth poking out. “I’ll be here bright and early tomorrow.” He nodded at you just as your brother and mom came back, his attention diverting to them.

Jungkook arrived the next day, just as bright and early as he’d promised, leaving you to gape at him a little in his black t-shirt and sweats.

“I’m all ready, captain! Lead the way,” he mocked you a salute as you absent-mindedly waved him inside, guiding him up to your bedroom.

“I wasn’t expecting you to actually show up.” You admitted before opening the door, in your own way apologizing for being clumsy with details.

Jungkook smiled kindly at you, entering your space while casting an inquisitive look around. “It’s fine. Moving is harrying, I know. Man, I haven’t been up here since we were, what, 13, I think.” He slid his hands into his pockets then turned to you.

You rubbed your palms, wondering if your family was bound to come back from their morning workout soon. You hoped not. Your mother had a tendency to hover. She would also wake Y/B/N up.

“Ok, so I already did my clothes and most accessories. I just need help with the furniture covers and old stuff that I’m going to need to sort out and give away.” You pointed to the last three boxes stacked in front of your closet and he nodded, moving to pick them up and placing them on the bed and the other on the desk.

For the next few minutes, both of you busied yourselves with emptying the boxes, Jungkook sorting out a few things and asking your opinion whether you still wanted them or not.

“So, Jungkook, how did you become my brother’s babysitter?” You asked casually as you tossed a photo into the disposal box.

“I met Y/B/N at the store. He’d run off from your mother.” He said, matter-of-factly, making you let out the tiniest snort. “I don’t even know how but he recognized me. I brought him back here but Y/B/N wouldn’t let go so your mom and I had to improvise that I would come back the next day. Well, I wasn’t planning to…but I showed up anyway, for friendship’s sake and well…now here I am,”

“I’m sorry you had to be roped in like that.” You laughed.

“Nah, it’s good. Your parents actually pay me good money for the kid and he’s not all too bad. Kind of reminds me of you, if I’m being honest. Only now, I’m better equipped to handle that kind of behavior. It’s good fun after college.”

“How was your college experience?”

“Okay-ish…I mean, I didn’t go to a fancy ass place but it was a decent exposure. If I need something done at least I can do it myself. How about yourself? Any good stories to tell…?”

You paused, peering up at him suspiciously. “Are you asking me about my love life Jungkook?”

For his part, he looked sheepish, grinning pleasantly as he threw you a wink over his shoulder. “I wasn’t specifically aiming, but now that you mention it…”

“Whoa! Hold it, there…how did we go from unpacking to that?”

“You started it, Y/N.”

You had to let out a smile at the childish remark before reigning it in. “Well, I’m sorry to say but I think my sex life is definitely as exciting as yours probably is.”

Jungkook looked at you, an eyebrow rising to his frumpy hairline. “What makes you think so?” he looked back as he asked the question, softly trailing away before he broke out into a chortle, seemingly amused. “Actually, I think I do ok, compared to you.”

You frowned, turning around completely with your hands on your hips, “What does that mean?”

Warm brown eyes met yours, holding eye contact as Jungkook slowly reached into his box, lifting something that colored your cheeks in mortification. Jungkook continued eyeing you in awkward humor as he tapped the still packaged small blue vibe, complete with its warranty attached to it.

“I’m done with my pile. I was just wondering where you want me to put this.”

“Oh my god,” you gripped the edge of your desk, “put it away!” you ignored the subtle inflection on the word put, trying not to let the handsome curve of his lips embarrass you.

“Gladly, do you have an underwear drawer it needs to go into?” He, of course, spared no subtlety on his words.

You snarled, marching up to him and grabbing the damned package, tossing it to the floor. “I think we’re done here.”

Jungkook’s smirk vanished, as he raised his hands up to surrender and slowly moved to exit your room, propelled every few meters by your shoves.

“Thank you for all your help.” You said curtly, the innocence dripping from his doe eyes blinking up at you thawing you mildly.

“Sure…do you mind if I ask you something?” He laid a hand on the banister.

“Uh…go ahead,”

“Why haven’t you opened the thing? Was it an accidental drunk buy you forgot, or a prank from a friend or something?”

You recoiled slightly. “Why are you asking me about that?”

“I’m curious.”

“Well, it’s just…it was an impulse from when I was still with my ex. We broke up before Valentine’s so it just stayed where it was.” You mumbled, your ears heating at the look Jungkook gave you.

“That’s pitiful for a guy. He definitely didn’t treat you right if you needed to buy that.” He sympathized.

You waited to see if he was going to add on a taunt at the end but he continued to stare at you. “Well, I’m sure I do well on my own, thanks for the concern.”

“Anytime,” Jungkook seemed to understand your dismissal, opening the front door before pausing; the low light of the pale sun hitting his face and exemplifying his cheekbones as he gave you one last cheeky grin.

“I could do much better though. You wouldn’t need a vibrator at all.”

You blinked too fast, trying to process what he’d said as Jungkook winked again, none of the innocence from before visible as he finally pulled the door shut after him, leaving you to gape at the hardwood.

It was two days later that your parents decided to take your brother for an exclusive aquarium trip, with you staying behind out of simple boredom as you switched through the movie selection on your Netflix.

Your family being absent meant you hadn’t heard from Jungkook since the day he had wildly changed your notions of him being an innocent, oversized bunny. No, the quick smirks, eyebrow quirking and all that cheesy wording had managed to find an irritating place into you…specifically your unmentionables.

You grunted as you pushed the laptop away. You weren’t usually the type to get hot and bothered over looks, a connection sought which was why all your exes were just that – exes. Yet, you couldn’t deny the sticky feeling in your thighs, rubbing them over the satin silk of your bed sheets providing zero relief.

A small ‘bing’ lit your dark room as your phone screen lit up, a text notification from an unknown number distracting you as you swiped to open it, immediately dreading the words on them.

[10:34 PM] Unknown: I can’t stop thinking about that little thing I found in the box.

You knew; you knew it was him but you put your thumbs to the keyboard and typed.

[10:34 PM] You: Who’s this?

You trapped the edge of your nail between your teeth, watching the ticks turn blue before bubbles appeared on his side.

[10:35 PM] Unknown: Who else did you have fishing things out of your luggage?

Touché…

[10:35 PM] You: How did you get my number?

You hastily saved his number as he replied.

[10:35 PM] Jungkook: I have my sources…so, what did you do with it?

[10:36 PM] You: I threw it out.

[10:36 PM] Jungkook: Liar…it’s still in your room. Maybe in that underwear drawer I asked about…or were you using it already?

You rolled your eyes, trying not to glance at the package that nestled in the folds of your squashy chair. You’d have felt guilty, however the way Jungkook put it he was enjoying the tease.

[10:37 PM] You: You wish Jungkook.

It took a minute for him to reply, as if he was thinking through what he was going to say to you.

[10:38 PM] Jungkook: I do actually...

If you were a better person, you’d have dropped the conversation right there. You’d tell him that it was inappropriate for you to be doing this with him, that whatever attraction you’d garnered for him after seeing him after a long time was just nothing that needed to be acted upon. You’d probably forget and try to move on.

However, you were none of these things. No, you weren’t going to deny yourself the smirk that was brought to your lips, the satisfaction that he was the one to reach out first, clearly interested and all too willing.

Another pop-up message brought your attention back to the text.

[10:39 PM] Jungkook: Hope I didn’t offend you…honestly I’m a little jealous of it even if you say you didn’t use it.

[10:39 PM] You: Is that so?

[10:40 PM] Jungkook: I meant it when I said I could do so much better. You wouldn’t need that vibe at all, I promise.

[10:40 PM] Jungkook: That’s all about you talking, though, isn’t it? Why should I believe you?

You leant back on your comfortable pillows, trying not to let your fingers drift over your body as you waited for a reply. Seconds passed as the ticks remained blue…turning to a whole minute, then two…worrying you that maybe you had taken the tease too far, offended him in turn. After all, a guy never liked having his so called sexual prowess questioned.

You had just about given up on getting a reply when a sudden bing rang again.

[10:44 PM] Jungkook: Don’t believe me now, I wouldn’t blame you…but I don’t want you questioning me again once I’ve made you come enough times that you forget your name. It’s just a matter of when. Have sweet dreams tonight.

You opened your mouth, a loud ‘huh’ escaping you involuntarily. This just seemed like the kind of text a boy would send before hightailing it out of your way. You rolled your eyes hard at the corny ‘make you forget your name’ line even though it made your stomach clench, imagining his face hovering over you, the long fingers that had expertly moved in your things, moving in a very different way…all for you.

“Damn it,” you whispered, your fingers dropping the phone on your nightstand as you began to wiggle out of your pajama shorts, seeking a much needed relief from the heavy feeling in your thighs.

The text conversation had all but left your mind, leaving a haze of delight on your mind for the next few days as you strolled through the mall near your home.

Jungkook had come over for your brother a few times but had never let his gaze settle on you for longer than necessary. You didn’t know if it was to rile you up or because he didn’t want your mother and brother to feel suspicious of the changed dynamic between two childhood friends.

All you knew was that the retail therapy you were currently engaging in was definitely not due to the test he was putting you through. Nope, not at all…

Loud boisterous laughter echoed around you from school kids enjoying a break, teen girls walking around buried in the latest gossip or some who were out with their parents, seeming mellower. All familiar sights; calming and serene as you stopped in front of a store, looking critically at the black cut dress on the mannequin.

Now that was something you could wear…

You glanced at your purse, feeling your card burning as it pleaded to be put to use but you’d come with no intentions of buying…

You glanced at the dress again.

“Y/N, wow, hey,”

You turned on your spot, seeing three boys approach you, the tallest of the trio to have addressed you. You looked over them in confusion before stopping, eyes twitching barely as you caught Jeon Jungkook, reaching you last, hands in his pockets again but no hint of his innocent doe eyes anywhere.

No, his eyes were hooded, peering at you with his head tilted back just slightly, as if you were an antique he was evaluating.

You looked away quickly, turning your attention to the tall boy who’d called at you, your mind sifting through memories.

“Taehyung,” you smiled, looking beside him, “and Jimin; wow you guys grew up too.”

The man gave you a wide grin, looking at Jimin. “I wouldn’t say that about this one; you didn’t hang with us in high school but trust me, he hasn’t grown an inch since the 11th grade.”

Seeing Jimin’s smile falter before he scowled and smacked Taehyung’s shoulder made you laugh, not looking at Jungkook when he didn’t even greet you. “Yah, I’m not that short, you asshole.”

“Whatever you say, short stack,” Taehyung turned to you. “Are you back here for good then?”

You nodded. “Yep, well settled and everything.”

“That’s good; we finished our degrees a while ago so we’re already working. Tae here is the receptionist at the art gallery and I’m the assistant dance teacher at the studio. You should stop by someday.” Jimin offered.

“Oh my god, that’s amazing you guys, you really did great.” You batted your lashes just so.

Were you flirting? Not exactly, but that didn’t mean that you couldn’t be just extra nice to people you’d known a long time ago. Unless of course you were trying to show Jungkook that you could help yourself just as easily.

You glanced one last time at Jungkook, seeing his eyes on you for the whole time, unblinking and hard.

“Well guys, I’ve got to run, but I will definitely call on you.” You returned their waves as you gracefully slid between them, finally pulling the big gun.

“Oh and Jimin, don’t worry, I’m sure you grew up big.” You winked, taking pleasure when Jimin went bright red and Taehyung actually choked. You didn’t glance at Jungkook as you turned and strutted away.

Check and mate, sucker.

It was when you were in the car, of course that Jungkook made his own move. The call was accepted hesitantly, wondering what he had to say.

“I hope you had fun, beautiful, laying it on so thick for my buddies.”

You raised your eyebrows. “What, now you’re jealous of your friends too? You know, you should really do something about that.”

“Oh I will, don’t you worry. I made a promise, after all. Stay home tonight.”

Jungkook hung up abruptly, leaving you staring to the front in dawning apprehension.

You didn’t know how you’d end up like this, you really didn’t.

You’d followed Jungkook’s instruction, staying in; it wasn’t like you really had somewhere pressing to be. Your father and mother were at home, your brother was home and then Jungkook had been at home too, watching the Toy Story series with your brother while holding a conversation with your parents about sports and his hobbies simultaneously.

You’d sat on the farthest armchair, your legs folded underneath you as you’d stared at Jungkook from your periphery. He had entered the room, taking his place next to your brother without much attention given to you aside from a too cheerful ‘hey Y/N’, deeply interested in whatever your mother was saying.

You felt pathetic, eyeing him in hopes that he would, you don’t know, would do something, anything, give some sort of indication that the game he was playing with you was going to be continued to something tonight.

Finally, you’d huffed, getting to your feet to go to the kitchen, your back turned to the entrance to quench your thirst when you’d felt fingers slinking up your free arm, head whipping about to catch Jungkook leaning to your ear.

“Frustrated, are we?”

“No, why?” you’d replied too quickly, his chuckle vibrating against the thrum of your own pulse. He turned you gently, your eyes meeting his. He dipped his head a little.

“You can say it, Y/N. I don’t mind. I wouldn’t lie and tell you that I haven’t been hard ever since I walked in to see you in these shorts. Really bold, wearing those when you knew I’d be here.”

You couldn’t help it. Your eyes flew to the crotch of his jeans, making him snort.

“God, you’re so eager.” He pushed himself against you, knee knocking against your own to get it out of his way as he let you feel his own eagerness. Sure enough, he was sporting a semi that was only hardening against your hot pink shorts.

“What should we do about that, hmm?”

You only stared over his shoulder, praying that no one would walk in to see you pressed up against the sink, Jungkook completely wedged between your legs as he whispered filth in your ear. Your fingers tightened against the edge of the counter.

“Come here.” he said suddenly, pulling you to the island, eyes moving to the kitchen entrance as well as he pushed you down to your knees, out of the sight of anyone who would come in.

“What are you doing?” You hissed up at him, watching his finger drift to his zipper as he tugged it down.

“Letting you take care of my problem. Isn’t that what you wanted?” he smirked down at you, one eyebrow raised in challenge as he waited, to see if you would refute and back out.

The hell you would…

“Oh right, of course, someone like you would need your dick sucked to feel validated.”

You enjoyed the split second in which his eyes narrowed, lips turning down in annoyance before your hands were moving, slipping to his belt buckle and undoing it, the ends falling away to let you open the button, your mouth dropping open.

Jungkook had gone commando.

“I see you like sucking dick to make a man feel validated as well.” Jungkook retorted, his voice clipped but you could feel the proud smirk aimed at you when his dick, now good and hard fell out almost immediately when you spread his jeans a bit.

He placed his palms on the island, his tall frame hunkering so that his shaft lined up with your lips.

“Only you,” you whispered before pressing a soft kiss to the head, the length bobbing a little as it twitched in reaction.

“I don’t know about you, beautiful but we’ve got to hurry this up. Your family is still out there.” He breathed eyes now wide as he watched you while his ears stayed outside.

You hummed in reply; your eyes on him as you opened your mouth slowly, placing him on your tongue. It tasted salty and while the head itself stretched the seal of your mouth, you knew it was only because of lack of practice. You trusted Jungkook to be careful.

You close your eyes when the contact became too much, the weight of Jungkook’s gaze only beating that of his cock that now lay snug in the crevice of your mouth.

“Fuck, baby, you haven’t used your mouth much, have you?” he asked finally.

You pop him out immediately, turning a scowl up at him but he chuckled reassuringly. “I’m not being an ass. I’m just grateful you’re letting me do this.”

“I’m not letting you do anything. I’m doing this because I want to do this.” You said. You diverted attention to his length in your hand, stroking up from the base, feeling his veins come to bulge before a translucent drip appeared at the tip.

“Fuck then, that’s just hotter.” He let out a low groan when you suck him in again, letting him in as much as you could before the passage of your throat constricted.

“Ah fuck,” he hissed, one hand rubbing at his thigh before landing on your head. “I really want to let you do this on your own but we don’t have much time, Y/N.” He warned again.

You glanced around the corner before up at him. “Then you do it.”

Jungkook’s eyes flew open, wide at you. “Say what?”

You smirked, encasing his wrist to shift his hand in your hair, curling his fingers to grasp a bunch. “You do it.”

Jungkook waited a full second, eyes studying your expression before returning a wicked smirk of his own. “Jesus, you’re nasty.”

His hold tightened in your hair, your mouth pushed open roughly as he shoved himself in your mouth again, stopping when he felt you clamp on him.

“Can I deep throat you? Would you be ok with that?” he asked. His voice had gone low, husky and barely choked.

You whimpered around him, knowing it would be rough for a while but nodding anyway.

“I’ll be gentle, just hit my leg if it gets too much.” He promised, giving you a chance to prepare as he pulled out completely.

You took in a deep breath, before loosening your jaw and letting your mouth open. Jungkook, as promised, went slow, pushing in till your limit, eyes fixed on your face as he maintained eye contact, all the while pressing forward, past the set of your teeth, your uvula and then slipping into the cavern of your throat.

You choked, making him pull out immediately as you pumped him, the saliva coating him making it easier as he grunted. “Good, you’re doing so well, Y/N. Again…?” he questioned and you almost cried at how considerate he was being.

After a second try, both of you deemed that it was ok for him to start ferociously pumping himself into your mouth. Low grunts filled the space between you as he hunched over you, hand alternating between clutching your hair to stroking it as he praised you in his broken, melodious voice.

“Fucking hell, you feel so good…”

“I can’t wait to feel your pussy.”

“I’m going to make you cum so good on my tongue for this.”

“You nasty girl, you get off on this, don’t you? Any chance that someone will come in to see a sweet girl getting mouth fucked in the kitchen.”

It was this last statement that made you swallow, and Jungkook finally threw his head back, grunts letting way to a soft whine as he finally came, flooding your throat with his come. He muttered a few words that went unnoticed by you as he pulled away almost immediately, letting you settle back.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I should’ve warned you.”

You shook your head to show him it was fine as you felt the semen that hadn’t seeped down your throat already pool into your mouth. You stood up on shaky legs, turning on the sink faucet to rinse your mouth and flush out…fluids.

“Hyung!” Jungkook and you both jumped, turning to see a glum looking Y/B/N frowning at Jungkook.

“I’ve been waiting for you for the last fifteen minutes! The movie is nearly ending. Come on!” he crooned with all the tenacity of a child. You were very sure it was longer than fifteen minutes, but you would be loathing confirming it.

“Oh yeah, sorry, we got to talking and didn’t realize. I’m coming!” His voice, previously deep and dripping with lust had gone high, one that he used on your brother only. He went to scoop up the boy, tickling his side as they disappeared from the kitchen, the only remainder of your depravity being the scorching look Jungkook tossed you before turning the corner.

“Mrs. Jeon invited you over for dinner tonight!” Your mother gushed.

You choked on the apple you were slowly chewing, your eyes flying up from the KKT chat to your mother, her hair curled freshly. “I met up with her at our salon and she told me to pass on the news! Isn’t she sweet?”

Or, this is Jungkook’s newest game…

You nodded, not answering as you switched chats to Jungkook’s, foregoing the previous sexy ones and sending new one.

[11:23 AM] You: Dinner at your house…? Ring any bells…?

You watched your mother flutter about in the kitchen a little, opening and closing cabinets before settling on cereals for snacks as Jungkook replied.

[11:26 AM] Jungkook: Uh…yeah, she’s told your mom, didn’t she? She’s been nagging me to put on my best impression forward. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I’d already done it.

You snorted. You had to agree he’d placed some very good impressions forward.

[11:27 AM] You: So, what do we do?

[11:28 AM] Jungkook: You get all dolled up for me and ready by 8, I’m going to give you a ride to my place and then back ;)

[11:28 AM] You: Classy, Jeon

[11:30 AM] Jungkook: Calm down beautiful, it’s just a dinner. I’ll see you at 8.

Sighing at the impromptu sweetness from him, you got to your feet, tossing the apple core into the trash. “I’m going to prepare for this dinner party.” You told your mother, dropping a kiss to her head when she started about taking you to her salon.

It was as you climbed up to your room that the idea struck you like a bolt. You smiled slowly, deviously.

Jungkook wouldn’t know what hit him.

You were certainly right about Jungkook being thunderstruck when he picked you up. Looking just a notch more dressed up in a tight black shirt and jacket, hands in pockets he chewed the inside of his cheek when you opened the door, leaning against the doorjamb – not being sexy.

Jungkook turned to look at you with an expectant grin before his eyes drooped and jaw slackened as his eyes drifted down your body almost inappropriately.

“Fuck,” you heard his whisper as you called to let your parents know you were leaving and to have fun.

“Your parents are going to be gone again?” He asked, looking deliberately at your face.

You took his proffered hand, swinging it between yourselves as he led you to his car in the driveway. “You know how they are; they have the same interests as Y/B/N. It’s the planetarium tonight. My dad paid to book it for mom and him for the whole night.”

Jungkook looked deep in thought as both of you slid in and he began driving back to his place, his eyes fixed straight ahead until he covered the short distance between your houses.

“So, what have you told your parents?” you asked, running a palm down the skirt of the black dress you’d decided to buy at the mall after all.

“Not much,” he smirked as he knocked on his door.”Your mother spoke enough.”

You’d only managed to let out a reassigned groan as the door opened, revealing a familiar but now older Mrs. Jeon.

“Y/N! Come in, come in, ah, this is so lovely.” She wrapped a delicate armed hug around you as his father made an entrance too, standing beside Jungkook.

You tried to not to let your pained grin show through, catching Jungkook hiding a smile behind his hand as his mother ushered you to the dinner table.

“Supper’s all ready, dear. Here, sit next to Jungkook.” She dumped you on the chair beside Jungkook as both parents took the ends of the table, a server, looking hired for this very purpose began announcing the dishes as he piled them on.

“You said it’s ‘just a dinner’.” You hissed to Jungkook.

“Ah, what can I say? My mother is worse compared to yours. Just go with it. You’ll enjoy this dinner, I promise.” He said, keeping his voice low as he sipped from his water goblet.

You shot him a suspicious look at his promise but it wasn’t until main course that you found out what he was talking about.

The server, his name was Clark as you asked kindly, was plating the delicate pasta when Jungkook barely nudged your knee.

You glanced at him, shifting in your seat to give him more space before he nudged you again, a little harder.

You looked at him, picking up your fork again to see him facing his father, nodding as he muttered about the recent scandal of coaches.

You turned to your food, smiling demurely at Mrs. Jeon talking about how men never changed when a large, warm palm encased your knee, jerking it to the right.

Your fingers stilled, body stiffening as you felt Jungkook’s thumb stroke soothing circles inside your leg. You settled your body back, nearly slumping into the chair, allowing Jungkook more ground as he paused in his conversation with his father to give you a look, hints of amusement glinting deep in his eyes.

He was going to keep his promise and make you enjoy tonight. Who were you to stand in his way?

Straightening, you placed your free hand on his, inching it further up under the skirt as you squirmed, trying to let the dress slink up without anyone noticing.

Jungkook seemed satisfied, helping you by hooking his pinky into the seam of the hem, edging it up till the tip of his fingers brushed your pelvic join, the bare skin where he should’ve felt fabric catching his attention.

He stopped, you noticed him taking a deep breath before turning to his mother, answering her about her latest shopping endeavors, fingers left vague near where you wanted him.

You rolled your eyes, taking the initiative even as you arched just so, pressing your heat against his hand insistently. Jungkook’s eyes shot to yours, narrowing in warning, moving his hand out of your skirt as his palm moved to cup your mound over the slick material of the dress, squeezing deliciously.

He let his thumb brush over the seam of your slit once before he was pulling away completely, bringing that particular thumb up to brush against his lips, expressionless as he emptied his glass.

“Are you done, Y/N? I should really take you home.” The last statement was aimed at his mother.

“Yes, yes of course, do give your parents my best, Y/N. I will see you again very soon, this time with your parents.” Mrs. Jeon waved a hand for Clark to collect your and Jungkook’s plate as she stood up.

“Get back to dinner, mom. I’m driving her back.” Jungkook said, leaving no room for arguments as his hand, that damn hand cupped your elbow, guiding you out of his house and back to the car, shoving you into the passenger seat and climbing into the driver’s.

“What’s your problem? I wanted to take another serving of the pasta.” You grumbled as he stopped abruptly, a little ahead of the road turning to you.

“Show me,” it was a command.

“Show you what?”

“Beautiful, not right now; I want you to show me what you plan to get out of tonight’s game.”

You stared at him for a second, feeling his eyes turn pointedly to the way your skirt had ridden up your thighs. You let your finger hesitantly lower to the hem, raising it barely to give him a peek at what he wanted.

“That’ll do.” He softly whispered, revving the engine again as he turned to your street, slipping into the empty driveway.

“Would you like to come in?” you asked, trying to play coy but giving up pretenses midway when you see him unlatching his seatbelt, eyes already on you.

“Duh,” he laughed, exiting the car after you.

“I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m glad your parents are going to be out.” He muttered, standing too close to you as you unlocked the door with the spare key, switching on the porch lights.

“Why is that?” you murmured absently.

Jungkook pushed you against the front door, grinning confidently. “Because you’re going to be loud tonight, I’d rather the kid not hear that.”

You snickered, feeling his hands delve into the coat he’s placed over your shoulder, crumpling and throwing it on the couch.

“Is this the part where you make me come so many times that I, what did you say, oh right, ‘forget my own name’?” you teased.

Jungkook walked you further into the house, his fingers undoing cufflinks at his wrist as he eyed you lazily.

“Yes,” he gripped the back of your neck, “We made a deal that you wouldn’t be questioning me after that.”

“Yeah whatever,” you grabbed the lapel of his shirt, fisting it as you pulled him down to you, lips meeting in a fiery kiss that burned hotter at pent up tension exploding around you and Jungkook.

You never actually managed to reach your bedroom, Jungkook deeming it proper to push you up and over the armrest of your favorite couch. Your back arched uncomfortable as you maneuvered yourself while he undid his shirt completely and let it flutter to the floor.

“It’s a very pretty dress. You were eyeing this at the store that day, weren’t you?” he asked, running soft fingers up your legs, hooking under your knees.

“You saw?” Surprise made you prop yourself to stare at him.

“I saw you since the moment you entered the store, Y/N. Tae and Jimin noticed you later and I had to follow.”

“Wow, stalker much?”

“Stalker who is going to be doing this,”

Jungkook pulled your legs up, sliding to the floor fluidly. Latching them over his shoulders, he yanked you towards him by the waist, all the while eyes boring into you defiantly.

“Do you want to stop?” he asked.

What were you going to do, say yes?

“No.”

“Good,”

Jungkook turned his eyes lower, finally focusing on the skin you had deliberately left uncovered for him to explore.

“This dress you’re wearing is so pretty, I don’t want to rip it.” He said. You hummed appreciatively, raising your legs together so he could push off the tight skirt and away before returning their position on his shoulders.

Jungkook pressed his fingers to your core, spreading the lips apart a little so he could flourish his tongue across the swell of your nub, a pause left at the edges to dig in the pink muscle.

You sighed, relaxing in his ministration as he slaved away, increasing and decreasing the pressure he used, the harder strokes he applied to your clit and entrance, jolting your fingers and torso till you were clutching at his hair, trying to press him closer.

“I promised you’d be coming on my tongue and fingers for the kitchen, didn’t I?”

You didn’t have to glance his way to know he was peering up at you with his smug lips glistening and curved. “Well, then get to it,” You encouraged.

The man took it as a challenge, delving back into you with a growl that vibrated through your folds, sparking delectable heat in the depths of your abdomen. A definite warning that he would get what he wanted from your body soon.

Jungkook seemed to be able to tell you were close too, migrating to gently place distracting kitten licks to your now hardened clit, middle finger easing in till it was buried to his knuckles into you.

You grunted, jerking into a ball, your knee slipping off as he clicked his tongue, repositioning your leg, holding it tightly in his free hand as he increased the force of his suckles.

The single finger turned to two, then three curling cleverly into your walls as they sought and found the sweet spot within your writhing body.

The come hither motions of his fingers made you convulse, earning a low groan of approval from Jungkook as he detached his lips from your folds, standing with his fingers lodged deep in you. He maintained lazy motions, stretching out your small orgasm.

“Fuck, beautiful, you good?” Jungkook pulled you upward gently, hands moving to your back, rubbing out any knots that may have formed.

“Yeah, I’m good. I’m good.” You reassured before tapping his chin, running your thumb to wipe away the remnants of your arousal from his lips.

“I still remember my name, you know.”

“Not a problem, I’m not done with you yet.”

Jungkook spun you, fingers unclasping the hook and pulling the zipper down till the dress hung loosely around your frame. He bunched the material in his fists, slowly but firmly pushing the stretchy fabric down till it pooled at your ankles before being shoved away somewhere. Splaying large hands across your shoulder, he was pushing you right back over the armrest again, this time on your front.

The plush fabric of the sofa brushed cold against your nipples, hardening them further as you ground your chest into the material, looking for friction. Shame was long forgotten as Jungkook realized what you were doing, bending till his mouth was at your ear.

“Does that feel good? Do you want me to make you come like this, using one of the cushions to grind against your pretty clit? Or do you want my cock in you, pumping till you can’t stand?”

You whimpered, reaching back for his hand. He gave it willingly, letting you guide it so you could press it blatantly to your throbbing mound. You felt him fumbling a bit, getting out of the rest of his clothes and put on the condom.

“Your cock, please,”

“Good girl,” He removed his hand, letting it rest on your ass first, curving with your flesh, kneading it gently before settling on your hips as with the other he ran the head over your tight seam, pushing forward till the tip nestled just inside you, your wall contracting to pull him in further.

“Fuck, beautiful, I can feel you trying to suck me in. Are you being greedy?”

You turned your head to look at him in annoyance. “You really want to play games right now?” you snarled.

Jungkook laughed, deep and freely as he plunged forward, your sentence stuttering out as you felt him settle so deep in you, you could feel him.

You were full of him.

“Oh my - fuck,” You whined in surprise, Jungkook brushing away hair so he could whisper again. “I was being gentle, Y/N.”

“Don’t be; please, Jungkook, don’t be gentle.” You answered, tilting your head to allow him to trail open mouthed hot kisses, sucking into the curve of your shoulder.

“As you wish,”

Jungkook braced himself on his forearms on either side of you, mouth landing on your back as he increased his pace and the strength of his thrusts. His cock, girth and length hit the deepest spots in you, stretching you out in ways your exes had never even managed.

The vibrator fell away from your conscience. You were so tossing it out after tonight.

Jungkook grunted behind you, his thighs, toned and tight pressed against the curve of your ass. Raising himself with one hand, he gripped onto your wrist, pulling it up and around your head, pushing you back against his chest as he cupped a full breast, tweaking at a nipple.

“Fuck I want them in my mouth.” He hissed, slowing and stopping abruptly as he pulled out, leaving you to take in huge gulps of breaths.

Jungkook moved so fast he might as well have been a blur. He moved the discarded clothes to cover the sofa and sat on them, the hand holding your wrist guiding you to sit on top of him.

Both of you hissed as he went deeper into you before stilling. Jungkook pressed his forehead against yours, eye closing and throat bobbing as he swallowed.

“I want to make you cum.” You whispered bravely, making his eyes fly open as he gaped up at you.

“Go ahead.” He grinned, letting his hands rest comfortably at your waist as you braced yours on his shoulder, raising yourself up and then down, the sofa letting out a puff sound that made you both chuckle lazily.

You close your eyes, tossing your head back as you tried to set the same pace he had, feeling his length brush over your spot over and over in this position, your warmth convulsing as the signs of another impending orgasm brewed on your horizon.

Jungkook hissed. “Fuck, baby, just like that,” he glanced down, thumb slicking in his mouth as he rubbed it over you clit, stimulating you further, as you rode him hard. His hands kneaded your tits, swollen lips trapping a peak in to his mouth, suckling while his head nuzzled against the soft flesh.

You could feel his satisfied smile like this as you tightened further.

Jungkook finally pulled away with a wet pop, his pants increasing as he cupped your face. “I’m going to cum baby. Where do you want it?”

You whined in heat, mind running hazily as you brought his hands down to your chest. “Here, here, come here,” you breathed loudly.

Jungkook cursed, standing suddenly with you like you weighed nothing before turning around to dump you unceremoniously on the sofa, parting your legs till he was pounding inside again, hair sweaty and sticking to his forehead while the heel of his palm dug in your clit. His hips were angled perfectly, battering against your sweet spot until you were screaming, screaming his name, any nonsense that flooded your brain.

You never registered Jungkook pulling away with a furious growl, his large palm jerking over his member roughly until he was releasing all over you, some of his seed landing where you’d wanted him and the other going god knows where.

Oh god…

Jungkook let out a slow exhale, hands landing on the backrest as he leant his weight on it. “Clean up duty,” he muttered pathetically as you lay sprawled out, well sated and oxytocin high.

“It can wait, we have the whole night.” You soothed. Jungkook eyed you fondly as your hand ran warmly over his sweat slick chest.

“At least let me clean you up.” He fetched his boxers while disposing of the rubber - hopefully hiding it well, and running it over your thighs, even swiping at the flyaway strands on his release. “So, I kind of know we did this backwards, but how about I take you out sometime?”

You laughed. “It’s my turn to be babysitted huh?”

Jungkook shrugged, grinning as he held out his hands, helping you stand so you could move to your bedroom.

“So, I still remember my name.”

Jungkook only rolled his eyes, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Maybe we can christen the vibe this time.”

Damn.

#smutcentralnet #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jungkook #bts #jeon jungkook #bangtan #BTS jungkook

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mimosaeyes · 4 years

Text

Runaan babysits Rayla for the first time. Everything goes much better than expected.

A Ruthari getting together fic.

Credit to the Hot Brown Morning Potion Podcast episode 5, for notes on characterisation. Especially this part. Beta-ed by @sequoiawintersnight. Also available on AO3.

“Um,” says Runaan, after the door closes behind Tiadrin and Lain.

He had braced himself for tears, tantrums — any sort of fuss, really, that a toddler can kick up. But Rayla had been serene as she bid her parents farewell for the day, only giggling a little as they ruffled her tufty hair.

Surely that bodes well. Surely.

You are one of the Silvergrove’s finest warriors, Runaan tells himself sternly. You can handle babysitting your best friends’ toddler for one afternoon.

Rayla looks up from her toy. She watches him with huge, expectant eyes.

“Um,” Runaan says again. Sitting across from her, he’s suddenly realising that he has no idea how to talk to children. Sure, he’s interacted with Rayla before. Plenty, in fact. But it was always with someone else around, whose lead he could follow.

Awkwardly, he crosses his arms over his chest, then un-crosses them again.

Rayla cocks her head at him. “Thawi?” she asks. At least, he figures it’s a question, since her voice goes up at the end of it.

It takes him another moment of staring at her blankly before he understands. “You want to know where Ethari is?” Runaan ventures.

By way of answer, she leans forward to deposit, in his hastily cupped hands, her toy — a small wooden dragon that Ethari whittled for her. Runaan smiles as he recalls how painstakingly he’d worked on it in the weeks leading up to Rayla’s birth.

Runaan would be sparring with Lain when he would wave, and Runaan would turn around to see Ethari lounging in the shade of a nearby tree, using a small knife to coax, from a block of wood, the curve of a dragon’s neck or the fine tessellation of its scales. Ethari spent ages childproofing his design — rounding off any bits that jutted out, sanding everything down to perfect, splinter-free smoothness.

That’s Ethari, though: always putting his whole heart into his craft. It’s one of the reasons Runaan, ahem, admires him so much. And shows up at his workshop with some regularity for advice on proper weapons care (as is only prudent). And trips over his own feet sometimes when he notices Ethari watching their practice sessions. Which, okay, is somewhat embarrassing. Especially when Lain elbows him, or exchanges a look with Tiadrin.

Runaan clears his throat and wiggles the toy dragon at Rayla. “Ethari is busy today,” he tells her, “but we’re in his workshop anyway, since your mum says you like it here.”

Rayla perks up at the mention of her mother, and scrambles to her feet. Runaan watches, bemused, as she runs to a low shelf and tiptoes to retrieve something from it. He lets her, because he knows Ethari wouldn’t keep anything dangerous within Rayla’s reach, not when she comes by so often.

Besides, Runaan is pretty much subconsciously attuned to anything even vaguely weapon-like. He could disarm Rayla of a hazardous object in a heartbeat.

It looks like he won’t need to, though. Rayla returns brandishing two twigs, both filed blunt at the ends. More of Ethari’s handiwork, Runaan would wager.

She leaps about in a very, very loose interpretation of the basic drills she must have seen her parents performing countless times. Her face is scrunched up in concentration, and she exclaims, “Yah!” occasionally to punctuate a motion.

At the end of the display, Rayla holds a pose and looks up at him for approval.

Runaan holds her dragon aloft and bows his head. “Well done, young warrior,” he intones gravely. He suspects she might get a kick out of that.

He suspects right. Rayla lights up, grinning at him, and the thought flashes across Runaan’s mind that Well, you’re not Favourite Toy-Making Uncle, but maybe you can be Serious But Nice Uncle.

Even as he contemplates the implications of this stray thought — is he jealous that Rayla probably likes Ethari more? is he already so wrapped around her finger? — Runaan reaches out and ever so slightly adjusts her stance. He smiles at her to take any sting out of the criticism.

Rayla smiles back cheekily, then puts on her serious face again and waves her twigs at him. She doesn’t come close to landing a hit, so when she very deliberately pokes him with one of the sticks, Runaan makes sure to flail dramatically and fall over, crying defeat.

His eyes are closed, but he can hear her chuckling to herself as she clambers over his legs and flops down on the floor next to him. She pulls lightly on his hair, and he cracks open an eye to peer at her suspiciously.

She remains fixated on his hair, though, perhaps because it’s longer than that of her parents. Runaan gives a mental shrug and resigns himself to lying there on Ethari’s workshop floor, letting a tiny child play with his hair. It’s a pleasant enough, albeit surreal, way to spend an afternoon.

Rayla seems to be attempting a braid of some kind, but her fingers are too stubby for her to manage it. After a while, Runaan props himself up on one elbow so he can see what she’s doing and give her the occasional pointer.

Instead of undoing her flubs, Rayla just moves on to another section of hair, leaving little twists and knots and frizzy locks everywhere. Runaan distantly notes that he would not put up with this from anyone else in the world. And then he continues to let it happen.

And that’s when the door to the workshop opens, and Runaan looks up to see Ethari standing in the doorway.

He freezes — which goes against every principle of his training. He’s simply so mortified at how he must look right now, in front of Ethari of all people, that it takes precedence over everything else. Rayla yells, “Thawi!” and runs over to him, and Runaan is still just frozen in place, gawking at Ethari, thoughts stuck on But he was supposed to be busy today and Oh stars, my hair looks like a moonberry bush.

To his credit, Ethari takes it all in stride. He smiles at Runaan, amused but kindly, and then goes, “Oof,” as Rayla bodily slams into his legs.

“Hello, Rayla,” Ethari says. “I see you’ve had a fun morning.”

Runaan picks himself up off the floor as Rayla nods fervently. “With Wunie!” she chirps.

Ethari makes a noncommittal noise and leans over to place his shoulder bag on a nearby stool. “Oh yes. But are you sure he wouldn’t prefer to be called Wunaan?”

Rayla tilts her head back to check with Runaan, who finds himself somewhat helplessly shaking his head.

“Wunie says no,” she reports.

“Alright then,” Ethari says mildly. There is the faintest hint of a smile playing over his lips. Runaan is momentarily entranced by it.

Ethari retrieves a jar from his bag. “How’s about some of your favourite Moonberry Surprise?”

Rayla’s squeals of joy could probably be heard from the top of the Storm Spire. Ethari sends her off to search a cubbyhole for cups, and sets about unpacking the rest of his things. From the look of it, he’s been around the village, trading for supplies and materials. Just watching his calm, systematic mannerisms sets Runaan at ease.

Which is why he takes a moment to react when Ethari indicates the jar and says conversationally, “Tiadrin sprinted out of the council meeting to give this to me. She was oddly insistent that I leave the rest of my errands be, and go back to my workshop to enjoy it.”

A creeping suspicion sidles into Runaan’s mind.

Ethari continues, nonchalant. “It would’ve been Lain, I think, but I doubt he could’ve kept a straight face.”

Runaan blinks. “What do you mean?” he asks, half-sure he knows the answer but needing to hear it from Ethari. To gauge his reaction, and to be sure this isn’t all wishful thinking on his part.

Ethari bends down to accept two cups from Rayla, who can’t hold a third one at the same time and has to go back for it.

“I mean,” he says after another moment, “that I think we’ve been set up.”

Try as he might, Runaan can’t read much from Ethari’s neutral tone and facial expression. He’s implied that he knows their friends think… well, that there’s something between them. But is it a one-sided something, or is it reciprocated? Runaan still doesn’t know, not for sure.

He formulates — not for the first time — a dozen different ways to ask. He rejects each of them in turn. Also, obviously, not for the first time. The silence stretches on until he’s saved by Rayla returning with the last cup.

Which seems to have been custom-made for her small hands, as he absently notices. Ethari really does spoil her.

He pushes away the accusatory thought: So do you.

“Up?” Rayla asks Ethari hopefully, and he sits down on one of the stools so he can hoist her up onto his lap. For a moment, Runaan doesn’t so much envy his easy way with her, as wish he got to observe it more often.

Among the Silvergrove elves, Runaan has noticed, Ethari’s relative pacifism means he avoids publicly showing this side of himself. This truth about himself, which Runaan sees anyway, in glimpses: empathy and kindness, rather in excess of what Moonshadow society approves of.

All the while he’s thinking this, Ethari is bouncing Rayla up and down between sips of her Moonberry Surprise, making a game out of it. The sight of them playing, and the sound of her laughter, are beyond endearing to Runaan.

Then Rayla notices him watching and holds out her little arms to him. “Up!” she demands.

Runaan spares a moment to reflect that there was definitely a time when he was not a total pushover. Then he stands and lifts the tiny elf girl up onto his shoulders.

Ethari helps settle Rayla securely on her newfound perch. “Hey! When did you get so much taller than me?” he teases her, prompting another brief giggle.

His hand rests on Runaan’s shoulder as he speaks. Probably accidentally. Runaan tries not to think about the warmth of his touch, or wonder whether it lingers a moment longer than it has to.

He holds on to Rayla’s ankle, wary of dropping her. “Don’t squirm,” he warns.

But Rayla is already distracted by everything she can see from so high up. She pays him no heed, listing from side to side as if wanting to touch all the things on Ethari’s workbenches and shelves. When Runaan doesn’t immediately move toward the objects of her curiosity, she makes a pathetic whine in the back of her throat.

“You’re like a Moonstrider pup,” Runaan informs her, even as he obliges and takes a couple of steps forward.

Rayla just burbles and pokes at something shiny sitting on top of a cabinet. When Runaan peers closer, he sees that it’s one of a pair of horn guards — and that there are several more beside it, in various stages of completion. Of course. Although the elves of Silvergrove primarily go to Ethari for weapons (his are the most versatile and perfectly balanced), they also seek his services for engagements and jewellery in general.

Runaan gently nudges aside Rayla’s hand. “Careful,” he admonishes, but without much heat. “These are delicate.”

He glances at Ethari, who shrugs.

“I don’t make anything purely ornamental,” he says, then turns to address Rayla. “Wunie’s right, though; these do mean a lot to people. I have some other things you might like, over here.”

Runaan follows him to the far side of the workshop, where Ethari takes down a plain box and sets it on the table. Still seated on his shoulders, Rayla leans forward in anticipation, inadvertently pushing against Runaan’s head.

He laughs at how eager she is. “Alright, little one,” he says, and carefully sets her down.

They both watch as Ethari snaps open the catch on the box, and lifts the lid.

Inside is a collection of — Runaan doesn’t even have the words. Rationally, he recognises that these are ordinary household items. Small plates, hair clasps, buckles for securing supplies when travelling. They’re functional. But they’re also beautiful: engraved with swirls and curves, never a straight line anywhere. The silvery patterns remind Runaan of the way water moves in a river or brook under moonlight. They look like art, and yet they’re also textures begging to be touched. With careful hands. With reverence, or love.

Sitting cross-legged on the counter, Rayla’s eyes have gone wide.

“I didn’t know you made things like this,” Runaan says in awe. “Out of — what, scrap metal? Left over from your main work?”

Ethari shakes his head. “Not for these. Sometimes... people bring me weapons I can’t fix. Or won’t. Fine blades ruined because they were wielded improperly. Daggers they want to dispose of, that have drawn innocent blood.”

The mood turns sombre between them. Things happen. They both know it.

Ethari continues, “I never destroy them. I melt them down and reshape them.”

Runaan reaches out and runs his fingers over a hair clasp. It moves him, he realises: how much beauty Ethari sees in the world — even in the ugly, discarded parts of it — and brings out through his craft. Which he does, not out of obligation or necessity, but simply for the joy of creating something special out of something unwanted.

He remembers, abruptly, Ethari knocking on his door over a year ago. It was pouring rain and Ethari had been as sodden as the shivering bundle of fur cradled in his arms. The abandoned Shadowpaw pup had grown up hale and hearty under his care, after that first night when Runaan invited him in, offering him hot tea, blankets, a place by the fire. And — surprisingly, in retrospect — no questions as to why he showed up there.

He sees, with sudden clarity, that Ethari has always had a penchant for taking lost and broken things, and making them feel needed and whole.

“They’re amazing,” Runaan tells him, and bites back his next words. You’re amazing.

Instead of responding to the compliment, Ethari clasps his hands together nervously. “I, ah. I made that for you, actually.”

“What?” Runaan does a double take and stares at him. His fingers go still on the hair clasp. His heart thuds in his chest, thunderous.

Ethari quite deliberately unfastens his hands from each other. Pausing only to glance at Runaan, as if asking for permission, he leans forward and tucks a lock of Runaan’s hair behind his ear. The gesture is tender and shockingly familiar, as if he’d done it a hundred times before.

“It’s your heart,” Ethari tells him simply. “That’s what inspired me. You scowl and bluster, and goodness knows, you fight like a raging storm. But you also lay on the floor playing with a child because it makes her happy. You turn down the honour of joining the Dragon Guard with your best friends because you would rather stay and protect your home.”

He touches his shoulder. “Your heart is kind. It deserves something just as beautiful.”

Silent, stunned, Runaan watches him for a moment longer.

Then he surges forward and kisses him.

It’s only the briefest press of lips. He registers closeness, warmth. A huff of air from Ethari; he’s taken him by surprise. The other elf only begins to kiss back when Runaan is already pulling away again.

He gulps, instantly panicky. How many times has he dreamt of doing what he just did? And there he goes, rushing through it and probably ruining everything. He never even explained—

“I was wondering if you’d ever do that,” Ethari breathes.

Runaan blinks. “You knew?!”

Coming from a normally mild-mannered person, the look Ethari gives him then is exceedingly sassy. “Runaan, you come into my workshop with requests three times as often as any other elf. You volunteer to test out my weapon designs so we can talk shop and you can compliment my work, because you can’t figure out how else to express affection.”

He smirks at Runaan, but his voice is indulgent. “I love you, but you can be a real idiot sometimes.”

A beat.

“Oh,” Ethari mutters. “That just slipped out, didn’t it?”

And he rests both hands around Runaan’s neck, and pulls him into another kiss. This one is deeper, longer. Runaan is still stunned, but he quickly relaxes into the embrace. Just for a moment, he lets himself melt.

They only break apart when Rayla makes an indignant noise at no longer being the centre of attention.

She holds up some sort of rectangular, metal item from the box. “Mine?” she asks.

“What is that?” Runaan wonders aloud.

“A harness buckle,” Ethari supplies. He wags a finger at Rayla. “Maybe when you’re old enough to ride.”

Rayla makes a moue.

Runaan sighs as if very put upon by her (in all of two seconds, yes). “I’ll teach you,” he promises.

“Softie,” Ethari teases.

Runaan smiles lopsidedly. “I do my best.”

The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur. They find ways to entertain Rayla, or more often, she comes up with them. At one point, having refused for over an hour, Rayla finally dozes off for her nap, curled up among some soft cloths Ethari uses to clean filigree. While she sleeps, Runaan and Ethari tiptoe around, putting things to rights around the workshop. Ethari offers him a comb he finds lying around, and shakes his head fondly when Runaan mouths the words, “I don’t want to hurt her feelings.”

By the time Tiadrin and Lain return from their meeting, Rayla has roused from her nap to sleepily play a little more with her toy dragon. Lain picks her up without any bother from her. Leaning over her father’s shoulder, she waves goodbye to Runaan and Ethari.

Runaan waves back until she looks away to nuzzle her face in the hollow of Lain’s neck. Lain coos softly at her. It still surprises Runaan how differently his jokester friend behaves around his daughter.

He turns his attention to Tiadrin, who is hanging back. There’s a tension around her eyes that wasn’t there this morning. “Everything alright?” he asks, worried.

She hesitates, but nods briskly. “It will be. How was Rayla?”

“A perfect angel,” Runaan starts to say.

At the same time, Ethari nudges him and says, “Utterly spoiled by this one.”

Tiadrin tilts her head at them both, visibly taking in how close together they’ve subconsciously begun to stand. Runaan is struck by how much Rayla is picking up her mannerisms. They have the same intelligence behind their bright eyes as they puzzle him out.

“So,” Tiadrin says slowly, beginning to smile at them.

Runaan narrows his eyes. “So,” he says back at her.

On some level, he does mean for that to serve as confirmation of Tiadrin’s suspicions. Watching the way she glances between him and Ethari, looking genuinely pleased for them, Runaan knows she’s gotten the message.

Tiadrin lowers her voice. “You do realise Lain is going to be unbearable when I tell him that his ridiculous plan actually worked.”

“Was it really orchestrated by you two then?” Ethari asks.

She shrugs. “We just figured if we could find you an excuse to spend an afternoon in close quarters… you might work out the rest. Finally.”

“‘Finally’?” Runaan repeats. Tiadrin raises an eyebrow at him. Ethari holds up his hands in the universal gesture for I’m not getting into this.

Runaan groans. “Was I seriously the last one to know?”

“Seriously.” Tiadrin winks at him; she knows one of his pet peeves is when people answer rhetorical questions.

She moves toward the door. “You’re welcome,” she calls back over her shoulder as she leaves.

And Runaan is left in the same position as a few hours ago, when this whole adventure began. Only this time Ethari is standing right by him, close enough to touch, and he can do that now. He can stop wondering what that would feel like; he knows.

He also knows what it feels like to hear him speak the words I love you.

Runaan just isn’t as emotionally open as he is. He’s not built that way, no matter what Ethari may believe about his heart.

Ethari seems to know, somehow, what kinds of thoughts are running through his head. Quietly, into the hush of a room suddenly bereft of Rayla’s boisterous energy, he says, “You don’t have to say it back.”

Runaan looks at him. He… he wants to. He just doesn’t quite know how.

Biting his lip, he picks up the hair clasp from the table. The one Ethari said he’d made especially for him. Beauty out of broken bits. Something soft out of loss.

Runaan holds it out to Ethari. “Mine?” he says wryly, mimicking Rayla earlier. And all the while thinking, How do I tell you I love you?

Whether or not Ethari understands what he thinks but does not say then, Runaan may never know. But Ethari smiles, takes the clasp from him, and threads it gently through his hair. “Here,” he says. “I’ll teach you.”

#the dragon prince #ruthari #baby rayla #rayla #runaan #ethari #mimofic

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artificialqueens · 5 years

Text

Like a Surge Running Through my Veins (Crameron) Chapter 3 - MissChimKi

Summary: Brianna still believed in the power of soulmates, but she also believed in the power of love, regardless of the form, thanks to her mom. She was grateful for all the love she had in her life, but being with her soulmate would make it that much better.

In a world where both soulmates and superheroes exist, Brianna and Kameron struggle to connect all the dots, but still manage to find a connection.

A/N: Here’s another chapter. Enjoy!

About a year had passed since Brianna had met her soulmate, and still nothing had come out of it. Her soulmate had gained even more strength and popularity, and she was now known by the general public as Amazonite, a boss bitch who could save the whole city then still go rescue a kitten from a tree. Brianna couldn’t help but idolize her like the rest of the public, but unlike everyone else, Brianna was destined to be with her. If only she knew how to reach out to her.

So far it seemed her best option was to insert herself in dangerous situations and hope for rescue, but she worried that was just a little to insane even for her. She sighed and turned on the tv. To no surprise Amazonite was on screen, saving people from a fire of some sort. She couldn’t escape seeing the hero and it just made her feel worse. She let out a huge grown as the front door opened to reveal Aquaria coming in.

“Wow Bri, you really need to get out more this is getting depressing,” Aquaria told her.

Brianna glared in return, “I’m not in the mood to be criticized. Why can’t you just be sympathetic?”

Aquaria rolled her eyes, “I was, for like five months, but it’s been a year and you’re still being pathetic. You just need to chill out and let things happen naturally. Fate will see it through.”

“Yeah like how fate saw you and Vix through, oh wait that was all my doing,” Brianna countered.

“We still would’ve been soulmates without you introducing us. We would have met eventually,” Aquaria reasoned, “I’m not here to fight with you though. We need to have a serious conversation.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Brianna bit her lip, the last thing she needed was an intervention.

“Vixen asked me to move in with her,” Aquaria blurted out, “And I said yes.”

“Okay,” Brianna let out a breath. It’s not like she hadn’t been expecting this, but it still threw her for a loop. “When?”

Aquaria smiled, clearly happy that Brianna wasn’t mad, “A month probably, I want to give you time to find another roommate.”

Brianna smiled back, “How thoughtful,” she joked.

Aquaria shoved her, “It is thoughtful, you’re just a bitch.”

“Pot kettle,” Brianna smirked, “But really. I’m so happy for you guys and I’m glad I could be of service for getting you two to meet.”

“Yeah yeah, I’ve already thanked you like a thousand times and I refuse to make it a thousand and one.”

“What about on your wedding day?” Brianna questioned.

Aquaria blushed, “Maybe then, but only maybe.”

“I’ll take it,” Brianna smiled before her phone lit up with a text from her mom checking if her and her sister were still coming over for dinner that night. She quickly confirmed that she was. Maybe she could convince Monet to move in at dinner, it was worth a shot. She turned back to Aquaria to continue their conversation but she was already texting Vixen with a huge smile on her face and hearts in her eyes. It was disgusting and Brianna was happy for her friends.

By the time Brianna made it to her mom’s house Monet was already there, helping Bob make dinner. She greeted them both with hugs, “How can I help mom?” she asked popping a pepper into her mouth.

Bob swatted her hand away, “You can start by cooking the food instead of eating it.”

Brianna snuck one more before transferring it to the pan to cook. Monet was working on cooking the chicken for their fajitas. Bob was supervising at this point, taking advantage of her daughters’ willingness to do most of the work.

Once the food was done cooking they headed out to the table to eat. Bob had poured them all glasses of wine and they settled in for a good meal.

Dinner was the same as it always was when they got together. Monet had yet to meet her soulmate, so there wasn’t much speculation on that. She lived with her best friend, Naomi, who had recently met hers. Brianna was hoping this would help her encourage Monet to move in with her.

Both her mom and sister knew about the Amazonite situation. Monet kept encouraging her to seek out the hero and introduce herself properly, but it was a lot more difficult than that. Bob ensured her that whatever happened would happen and just because someone was her soulmate, didn’t mean it would be all sunshine and rainbows. Monet’s father was Bob’s soulmate and he had walked out on them. Bob kept it together though, she had a child to raise.

Brianna had come into their lives when Monet was seven and she was six. Brianna had been taken from her home when she was a toddler, and was in foster homes ever since. Nothing had ever stuck until she had ended up being placed with Bob and Monet. Bob had asked to adopt her within a month and she’d been a part of the family ever since. No matter what people said they were her true family.

Bob had always told her and Monet that there was a choice in soulmates no matter what people said. She knew this because her daughters’ were hers. She even got tattoos of the first words they said to her to prove it. Brianna still believed in the power of soulmates but she also believed in the power of love, regardless of the form, thanks to her mom. She was grateful for all the love she had in her life, but being with her soulmate would make it that much better.

“Any update on the Amazonite front?” Bob asked her, like she wouldn’t tell them immediately if something had happened.

She shook her head, “No such luck,” she admitted, “but something else interesting has happened,” she explained that Aquaria was moving in with Vixen.

“It’s about time,” Monet said, “That was bound to happen eventually.”

Brianna shrugged, “Yeah I know. I was expecting it, but now I have to find another roommate,” she looked at her sister and bit her lip.

Monet shook her head, “No way. I love you Bri, but there is now way I’m living with you again. Besides I’m already living with Naomi and I wouldn’t want to put her put of a place,” she reasoned.

“Yeah, but she’s just found her soulmate, so I figured it’s only a matter of time before they want to move in together,” Brianna pointed out.

“If anything Milk would be likely to move in with us. I’m not there much anyways and it would make the rent go down so I wouldn’t mind,” she shrugged, “Sorry Cracks, you’re on your own.”

Brianna sighed, everyone else she knew already had places and people to live with.

“What about Blair or Katelyn?” Bob asked.

“Katelyn likes living on her own too much and surprisingly Blair is extremely messy and I can’t subject myself to that again,” Brianna shuttered thinking about when she had to be the one to do a deep clean at the end of their junior year.

“I’m sure you can put some kind of listing up online and find someone,” Bob suggested.

Brianna pouted dramatically, “I know I just don’t want to end up with someone weird or like a serial killer or something.”

Monet rolled her eyes, “Girl everyone you’ve ever lived with has ended up being your best friend, you’ll be fine.”

“You’re probably right, but still I don’t want to have to deal with it,” she complained.

Monet took another sip of wine, “Have fun paying double your rent then.”

Brianna shot her a dirty look, but accepted that her fate would be living with a stranger. She just hoped she would be able to find someone who wasn’t too weird.

The next day she was sat with Vixen and Aquaria while she tried to put up a listing for the apartment. She had found a site to put up a listing that allowed her to pick the things she was looking for in a roommate. It was almost like a dating site for roommates, but she wasn’t complaining. If it would land her with a normal roommate and hopefully another good friend, she was happy about it.

She showed the screen to her friends, “Do you think this looks okay or is it too picky?”

Aquaria skimmed over it, “I mean it’s a little picky, but I don’t think it’s a bad thing. You don’t want to settle too much.”

Vixen nodded in agreement, “Most people lie on those things anyways, so the more specifications you have the better.”

“Yeah, that helps me feel better,” Brianna told her sarcastically, “but I know it’s not going to get any better so,” she paused dramatically before hitting the button to make the posting.

She leaned back in her chair and smiled at her friends, “And now we wait.”

Kameron had never been a big fan of change. Moving to Nashville when she was 19 was one of the scariest things she’d even done. And moving to New York wasn’t something she ever thought she’d do. In the four years she’d been in the city she’d kept the same job and lived in the same tiny apartment. Joining the agency had really thrown her for a loop, but even in the year she’d joined nothing really had changed.

The one thing she thought she’d get out of the agency was friendship. All of the girls there were so close and Kameron thought she’d stop feeling like such an outsider at some point but it hadn’t happened yet. Now she was just used to it.

Whenever she walked into a room they all stopped talking. She didn’t need the power of mind reading to know that they were talking about her. It stopped phasing her a couple months in. It died down a couple months after that. Now, they mainly just ignored her. Her only interactions with the others were in training sessions and on missions. Strictly professional.

The only one she had gotten close with was Eureka. She wouldn’t even call that a friendship though, because most times the girl just talked at her. She knew everything there was to know about Eureka, but she was convinced that she didn’t even know Kameron’s last name.

Training had gone well that day. Kameron was getting stronger. Her powers just kept developing and it was just as terrifying as it was liberating. She was helping so many people though, and the praise she was getting from the city made up for the fact that she wasn’t getting any attention in her actual life.

Sure both Ru and Michelle had taken a liking to her, paying extra attention to her and helping her in whatever ways they could. She was still pretty independent though, typically working on her own and keeping to herself. She accepted help when it was offered, typically from Mayhem or Asia, but other than that she worked best alone.

Still it would be nice to have people on her side and have people to talk to but she figured it was what it was. Her hand subconsciously traced the words on her hip. There was someone out there that would have her back no matter what and she couldn’t wait to find her.

She arrived back at her apartment after a long day with clients and training. It had been a long time since she’d been sore from training, but Michelle seemed to sense that and upped Kameron’s routines. Now all of her muscles felt stiff and it hurt to move, she knew it was helping her though, so she had to power through.

She used to be happy to have her alone time at her apartment, but now it just felt lonely. Maybe she could get a cat or something, but she didn’t want to turn into that lesbian. She sat painfully on the couch and flipped through her mail. One thing caught her eye. It was a letter notifying her that her lease was almost up and to renew immediately if she wanted to. She had been putting off making a decision in the hopes that she’d find somewhere better. She had been saving up for a while and was even considering looking into getting a house. Unfortunately she had been so busy and distracted lately that she hadn’t had the time to look.

She sighed and pulled out her computer. She would probably end up renewing her lease, but it wouldn’t hurt to look through a few listings and possibly tour some places. After browsing for a little, she found a building that caught her eye. From the pictures the apartments looked spacious and relatively new. Most were two bedrooms and Kameron liked the idea of having an extra room. She wasn’t sure what she would do with it yet, but the extra space wouldn’t hurt to have it.

She looked some more and found that the only one available on such short notice was a two bedroom that already had someone living in one of them. Kameron had never had a roommate before. She had never wanted to have a roommate before. She was far too introverted to want to live with a stranger especially. She knew this wasn’t something that would be good for her but something made her save the page anyways. Just in case she couldn’t find anything better.

The price was good and the space was good. The only downside was the roommate, but the more she thought about it it might actually be good for her. She had been living there for four years and hadn’t made any friends, it might be a good opportunity to meet people. So she kept it at the back of her mind while she continued her search.

A couple of hours later she still hadn’t found anything. She clicked yet again on the roommate listing. It couldn’t hurt to at least go look at it, and if she didn’t like it or the girl living there she would always be able to fall back on her current apartment.

She took a deep breath and sent an email to the landlord about a showing. She figured she wouldn’t get a reply this late at night so she shut her computer and got up to get ready for bed.

#rpdr fanfiction #misschimki #crameron #kameron michaels #miz cracker #lesbian au #cisgirl au #superhero au #soulmate au #s10 #roommate au #pining #slow burn #submission #like a surge running through my veins

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robalchemy · 5 years

Text

Why Embracing Our Diversity Is Key To Our Survival

Okay, that’s a bit of a dramatic title, but I needed to get your attention! (Also, it’s true...Anyways...)

Okay, so we all know exclusion is akin to prejudice/fear, and that kinda stuff results in that which we COLLECTIVELY do not prefer. (I would say ‘bad’, but there’s technically no such thing - And that’s beside the point!) Now, as a bit of a preface, I can’t emphasize enough how fluid and universal this principle actually is. It can be applied to literally ANY facet of our 4D existence here on earth - Education, agriculture, politics, food, religion, cars - Even right down to your favourite football team. This concept is as broad as it is simple. And it’s not super profound or anything, but I think it’s just one of those things that we don’t really stop and think about very much. Also, the universe told me, so now I’m gonna tell you! ;)

I could come at this from two perspectives: Positive, which says this is why we need to embrace or diversity - OR negative, which says why assimilation is damaging to humanity. Both work just as well and make the same point by explaining the same mechanics. So it’s not my intention to paint anything with a good or bad brush, the purpose here is to become conscious of exactly WHY diversity is in our best interests.

I’ll open with a statement we can agree on - Balance is best, yes? If you don’t believe me, go strap 100 kilograms of dumbells to only your left side and go ride your bike for 20 or 30 kilometers - Then come back here and tell me how moot the concept of balance is!

But here’s the point - Assimilation is one of the single most damaging things we as the human race CAN do to ourselves. It cripples us in every way societally, and it demolishes our mental health and understanding individually. I could go on and on and on for days about all of the negative consequences of embracing assimilation over diversity, but you can probably fill in the blanks pretty easily.

But why?

Well first off, forced assimilation is just a massive dick move, but also it works against EVERYONE’S best interests, even those doing the assimilation, whether they choose to accept it or not.

The mechanics of why are PAINFULLY simple!!! The example I was given was a swiss watch; Swiss watches are world renown for their precision and exquisite craftmanship, yes? Have you ever seen the inside of a Swiss watch? Well, here’s one...

It’s absolutely stunning. It’s elegant, artistic, precise and most of all - As perfectly functional as we’re capable of making a mechanical watch. And save for maybe a couple screws, how many pieces can you spot here that are identical?

EVERYTHING. Works this way. Absolutely. Freaking. EVERYTHING. And people are certainly no exception.

So why’s this important? Well, long story short - Look at the world we live in right now, all the things we bear witness to that not only we don’t prefer, but are just downright traumatic to see, let alone endure. This goes so far beyond transcending the simple things like prejudice. There’s actually nothing simpler than racism, sexism, homophobia, xenophobia, etc. - These are either learned or chosen behaviours that are based in fear. And as I always say, what kills fear? Understanding. And if we can’t understand from our current perspective, then we shift or change our perspective to see the other side of the proverbial sphere that is truth.

But prejudice is the most obvious example here. In context, I want to go a little deeper, a little more...Individual-ish. But this is actually something we ALL do. You may not like to hear it, but yes, even YOU attempt to assimilate those around you, at least from time to time. An example of this may be having a political argument. In this case, both sides are attempting to assimilate the other side to their perspective to validate their own personal truths via the ego, which is where confirmation bias lives. And ofcourse it NEVER works, and the result is emotions of hostility, anger, judgement, etc. because of the ideological clash that just took place. When in fact the TRUTH is that all political systems, parties and leanings are flawed. Every single one. Because they’re made up of these imperfect creatures called humans who cluster in almost a tribalistic fashion - Kind of an egoic ‘safety in numbers’ strategy. And ofcourse, Dr. Nash proved mathematically that the single most preferable results can only come when all sides compromise from what’s best for the individual or what’s best for the group - To what’s best for the individual AND the group. Kind of a compromise within the compromise.

This is called cooperation, and we teach it to toddlers, but seem to have this mass difficulty of practicing what we preach.

The next major example I want to touch on is something I personally know ALL too well - Education. We honestly still have NO. FREAKING. IDEA. How different we all actually are. We THINK we do, but no individual point of comprehension could even scratch the surface. But what do we do? Standardize education. And I even use the term education VERY loosely, because so often, our schools spit on the fine line that divides education and learning from programming. And then ofcourse, this inevitably sets so many up for failure, because the potential of one’s intellect is so easily based on the simple ability to mindlessly regurgitate data. Just data. Being programmed with data is not the same thing as learning. All the data in the world could never create a even a semblance of genuine empathy in the even the most advanced quantum AI. But why is this? Again, PAINFULLY simple - Because data simply is not experiencial. Experience is the single biggest reason incarnation even EXISTS!!! We LEARN by experiencing, by questioning, by exploring and most importantly - By having different experiences. Again, one of the central purposes of life itself. Otherwise, we’re just...Robots.

I could apply this principle to any facet of existence, but I think you get the point. The collective purpose is that every person, plant, rock - WHATEVER - Holds a unique space in existence & causality. Each THING has its own unique duty or job, in a way. And if every human had the same job, flipping burgers for example - How would anything else get done, built or function? And as people, we’re CRITICALLY subject to this.

So what’s the takehome here? Again, again, again - SO SIMPLE!!! At the very least, if we want to heal this world, ourselves and our collective or society - We need to end assimilation in every conceivable form. And how do we work toward accomplishing this eutopic dream? Again, very simple (Are you noticing a theme here?!) - It sounds cliché, but prove me wrong - Love. It’s not about repressing or trying to kill our egos - We need egos to function as conscious humans on a 4 dimensional plane. The reason love is the solution aside from how warm and fuzzy it sounds - Is because when we take a more heart-centered view of others, love is how we eliminate all fear & judgement when we don’t necessairly have full understanding. Love fills in all the cracks that are not yet filled with understanding.

I’m going to end off on that note for now; Please understand that this is SUCH a brief explanation. Paper thin, really, there’s so far deeper to go down this particular rabbit hole (Please forgive my awful grammar) , but a guy can only type so much on his phone in one sitting! That being said, if you can’t yet just generally love others, then at the very least, begin by giving permission to love yourself and don’t worry what the next step is!

#spiritual #spiritualawakening #spiritualjourney #thenextrabbithole #spirituality #love #understanding #diversity

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paigenotblank · 5 years

Text

Accidentally Ours (5/7)

Pairing: Tenth Doctor x Rose Tyler

Rating: Teen

Written for a prompt for Ten x Rose kid fic/family fic where they adopt kids left orphans that they meet on their travels / and also a prompt for Ten x Rose with a mix of adopted and biological kids (@tinyconfusion). Tagging @doctorroseprompts and @timepetalscollective which I think both had those prompts.

Trope: Accidental Baby Acquisition

Warnings: Kid Fic/ Baby Fic/ Pregnancy Fic

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7

AO3 / TS

Melody celebrated another birthday, and another, and then another, with no sign of the future Doctor.

The day after Melody’s 4th birthday, the Doctor took his family on a picnic to Aessith, a beautiful planet where faeries existed. Well, they weren't faeries exactly, but the inhabitants were petite humanoids with colorful skin tones that matched a set of gossamer wings. And if his daughter thought they were faeries, like from her favorite book, who was the Doctor to burst her bubble? Rose usually said, ‘the first in line,’ but not today. Not on her birthday trip.

Rose stretched out on the blanket and gave the Doctor a kiss. “Thank you for this. It’s gorgeous here.”

“Mmm. Yeah, it is. It’s a shame that in a hundred years the planet is mostly destroyed by a civil war.”

Melody clambered over them both and threw her arms around the Doctor’s neck. “Thank you, Daddy! When will we get to see the faeries?”

“Anything for my best girl. And, erm…” The Doctor looked around the empty park. “We’ll go into town to meet some locals after you finish eating your lunch.”

Rose wrapped her arms around the both of them and smirked. “I thought I was your best girl?”

The Doctor swallowed heavily and he darted a glance between Rose and Melody. “Oh, well, ah…”

Melody laughed and rolled her eyes. “Don’t be silly, Mummy. You’re not a girl.”

“I’m not? Well then, what am I?”

“You’re a grown up.”

The Doctor and Rose both laughed at her logic. “That’s true. My mistake.”

“Oh! Mummy, Daddy, look faeries! Can I go say, ‘hi?’” She pointed to spot over his shoulder and he turned to see an Aessithian man and woman walking along the footpath with a small toddler between them. The other family waved at them.

“I don’t see why not, but come straight back. No wandering off.”

“Okay.” She kissed each of her parents before scrambling off the blanket to introduce herself to the faery family.

The Doctor wrapped his arms around Rose and tugged her onto his lap. He growled in her ear, “You’re my best grown up,” and dropped kisses along her neck.

Rose giggled but let her head fall to the side to give him easier access. “Shut up. I was jus’ teasin.’”

“Always trying to get a rise out of me.” He pulled her more firmly onto his lap and ground himself against her bum. “But the secret’s out - it doesn’t take much.”

She patted the side of his face. “Was never much of a secret, dear. And behave yourself, we’re about to have company.”

The Doctor snapped his head toward a rapidly approaching Melody, who was dragging along her new friends, and pasted a bright smile on his face. “Hello.” He helped Rose up and then stood beside her with his hand extended. “I’m the Doctor and this is my wife, Rose. I see you’ve met our daughter, Melody.”

The other man, a lovely shade of lavender, returned the handshake. “It is a pleasure, sir. I am Oswald, King of Aessinth.”

“Oh!” Rose quickly curtsied, knowing from experience that it was better safe than sorry when it came to royalty.

“No need for that, my dear. We don’t stand on ceremony.” The Queen reached out a pale blue hand to Rose, who was struck by the shining beauty of the other woman’s sapphire hair and matching eyes. She stood straight and proud, though only reached Rose’s shoulder.

King Oswald, who stood at about the same height as Rose, introduced his family, “My wife, Queen Arabella, and our precious daughter, Princess Clarabelle.”

The toddler rounded out the look of her family with her pink candy floss complexion, magenta hair and sparkling emerald green eyes.

“It’s lovely to meet you. I was jus’ telling my husband that you have a beautiful planet.”

“Thank you. It’s not often we get off worlders anymore.”

“Really? But it’s so beautiful here. I’d think that you’d have loads of tourists.”

“We used to, but with the current political climate and our planet’s threat level at critical,” the king’s eyes narrowed slightly, “it is very unusual to see families visit at all.”

The Doctor and Rose looked nervously at each other and down to Melody. Rose pulled her closer to her side. The Doctor tugged at his ear. “Oh, er, I hadn’t realized. Not always the best at checking alerts before setting off on a trip.”

“You should really take your family and go.” The king eyes skittered around the clearing before whispering to the Doctor, “It’s not safe.”

Rose pointed to the princess. “Surely it can’t be that bad if you have your daughter out for a stroll?”

“It’s not by-” The king glanced over his shoulder, at a guard Rose hadn’t noticed before, and pasted on a false smile. “It is our duty to carry on normally for the sake of the people.”

When she examined the faces of the king and queen, she could clearly see signs of stress. “Yes, of course.” Nodding she began to clean up their picnic.

The Doctor picked up Melody into his arms. “Right, well, thank you for the warning. We wish you the best, but we’ll leave directly.”

The king and queen smiled brittlely and tightened their hold on their daughter’s hands. “It’s for the best, but please come back for a visit after all this passes.”

“We certainly will. Melody’s quiet enamored of it here.”

The Aessinthians smiled a genuine smile at that and looked in fondness at the outgoing little girl. “The girls can have a tea party.”

“Yes. Thanks again and it was lovely to meet you all.”

The Doctor grabbed Rose’s hand. “I’m so sorry. I checked that I had the right coordinates. I should have triple checked.”

“It’s fine, no harm done. We’ll just be more care-”

They had just approached the park’s exit when a blast rang out followed by a blood curdling scream. The Doctor knocked his family to the ground and threw himself on top of them while scanning the park.

Rose struggled to pull herself from under him.

“Rose, don’t look.”

“What happened?”

“The...the king…”

“Is he…?” Rose craned her neck to see.

The Doctor panted harshly in her ear. “Don’t look! We have to get Melody back to the TARDIS.”

“But what about the queen and Clarabelle? We have to help them.”

They heard a wail and a scream from the queen, “NO! NO, DON’T. PLEASE...SHE’S JUST A BABY. HELP! PLEASE!”

“Doctor, we have to help them.”

The Doctor’s eyes were wild. “Rose, please. I need you both safe.”

Rose firmly pressed her lips to the Doctor’s. “I’ll take Melody to the TARDIS, but see if there’s anything you can do for them.”

He sighed in relief and nodded. “Thank you.”

“Be careful though, yeah?”

“Always. You too.”

They shared another quick kiss, before Rose got to her feet with their daughter and briskly but cautiously made her way back to the TARDIS.

Rose was pacing back and forth in front of the time rotor and chewing on her thumbnail. She debated going out after the Doctor, but they had a rule about leaving Melody alone in the timeship. Not that she liked leaving the Doctor alone when she knew there were bad people with weapons around either.

Five more minutes. I’ll give him five more minutes an’ then I’m goin’ after him.

She’d made three more circuits of the console room when the Doctor burst through the door clutching Clarabelle. Rose rushed over to him and he handed her the toddler.

“What ha- Where’s the queen?”

The Doctor paused briefly in his race around the console, features hardening, before shaking his head and continuing dematerialization.

When they were safely in the vortex, he collapsed on the jumpseat. He had his head in his hands, elbows on his knees, and was breathing harshly. Rose sat down next to him, shifting Clarabelle in her arms so that she could rub the Doctor’s back. He didn’t often let people see him like this, didn’t often allow himself to break down like this, and Rose loved him even more that he trusted her enough with his heartsbreak.

“I...She…” He took a deep breath and met Rose’s gaze. “She begged me to take her and Clarabelle with us. I set off a smoke bomb. Got us all out of there and a bit of a head start. We were nearly here, when the rebels caught up to us. She gave herself up to them as a distraction so that I could get Clarabelle away.”

“What’s the plan?”

“Plan?”

“To rescue her.”

“Rose, she’s-” He glanced at Clarabelle. “I promised her, we’d take care of Clarabelle as if she was our own.”

Rose’s hand flew to her mouth and she clenched the young girl closer.

“I know it’s a big decision and we didn’t discuss it, but-”

“Of course, we will. There’s no question. I just...I can’t imagine. The poor darling, losing both her parents, and so young. How do we even…”

“We love her, like we did with Melody. That’s all we can do. All any parent can do.”

Rose nodded. “We’ll have to restrict our travel to planets that’ll be accepting of her species. Oh god, Mum!”

“I’ll make her a shimmer for when we visit Earth and other xenophobic planets.”

“A shimmer?”

“It’s a sort of cloaking device. It’s used all over the galaxy by aliens trying to integrate into populations different from their own.” He studied her. “When she’s wearing it, people’ll see only a human toddler with dark hair and doe eyes, round little cheeks and a button nose. Her true form’ll be hidden.”

“Mum’s gonna freak.”

“Why? She’s been hounding us for another grandkid for ages.”

Rose rested her head on his shoulder and chuckled. “I don’t think adopting a faery princess was exactly what she had in mind.”

“Jackie’ll love her.”

“She will.” Rose stood and turned to the Doctor. “C’mon. We should explain what we can to Melody and set up her old cot for Clarabelle. I think both girls will enjoy the company.”

He wrapped his arms around Rose and their newest daughter. “I love you, Rose, so much. I don’t tell you nearly enough.”

His words and the love she could see shining in his eyes, brought tears to her own. “It’s all the more special when you do.”

Melody and Clara were jumping up and down, completely unable to contain their excitement. “Hurry up, Nana!”

Jackie, the last one out of their little group, pulled the door to the flat closed behind her. “I’m coming. I’m coming. You girls ready?”

Melody and Clara nodded with huge smiles on their faces. “Yes!”

The girls had been begging their parents to go trick or treating for weeks, and they’d finally agreed to visit Jackie for Halloween.

The Doctor had on his usual brown striped pinstripe suit, but Rose in the spirit of the holiday got dressed up in the pink satin 50’s dress she’d worn back when they met the Wire. Rose snagged Clara’s hand and trick or treat basket before she had a chance to run off. “Melody, no runnin’. We’re going all together.”

Melody turned and tapped her foot. “But you guys are so slow.”

Rose raised an eyebrow at the 6-year old. “We don’t have to go at all.”

“Sorry, Mummy.” She sheepishly walked over and took Clara’s other hand.

Jackie glanced nervously at Clara who was without a shimmer for the first time on Earth, not counting the few times she’d been without in the safety of Jackie’s flat. “An’ it’s safe for her to be like that?”

The Doctor looked down at his little Aessithian princess in all her pink glory. “Safest night of the year for it. She looks like any other 4-year old in fancy dress.”

“Bloody good costume. She’s not gonna fly off is she?”

The Doctor rolled his eyes at his mother-in-law. “When have you ever seen Clara fly? Her wings are vestigial.”

“What?”

“Non-functioning. They just look beautiful. Don’t they darling?” He tickled Clara’s ribs causing her to giggle.

Melody dropped her sister’s hand and knocked on the first of Jackie’s neighbor’s doors. She was vibrating with excitement waiting for it to open.

A short, thin woman in 6-inch heels and leopard print, from head to toe, answered the door.

“Trick or Treat!” Melody called out and glanced meaningfully at Clara.

“Trick or treat!” Clara held up her little jack-o-lantern bucket.

“Oh, and who do we have here? Is that Melody Tyler from next door?”

“Yes, Mrs. Clarke. And Clara.”

Mrs. Clarke’s eyes widened as she looked at the tiny faery. “That’s a lovely costume, dear.”

“I’m a faery princess.”

“I can see that. And you, Melody? What are you dressed as?”

Melody glanced down at her outfit and up at Mrs. Clarke, giving her the look that her mother normally described as ‘dribbled on your shirt.’ “I’m dressed as a human.”

“Didn’t you want to dress up for Halloween?”

“But I am dressed up. I’m not normally a h-” Rose nudged her and cleared her throat. “I mean, I’m dressed like my favorite character from Harry Potter. Hermione. She’s also a human.” Melody gave the older woman her best smile and threw in a few eyelash flutters.

Oh, she learned that from Rose. The Doctor choked on his laugh and turned it into a cough.

Mrs. Clarke darted a glance from Melody to the Doctor and frowned. “Oh. Okay.”

Melody’s eyes brightened. “See my scarf? It’s in Gryffindor colors because Hermione is a Gryffindor.”

“I thought she was a human?”

“She is. Gryffindor is just the name of the House she’s in at her school.”

“Ah.” Mrs. Clarke smiled at that.

Melody ran her eyes up and down the neighbor. “Why’re you dressed like a Hydraxian marpletorp?”

The other woman’s smile drooped. “A what?”

Rose covered Melody’s mouth with her hand. “It’s just a character from a tv show she watches.”

She looked down at her outfit. “I’m supposed to be Peg Bundy.”

The Doctor nodded. “Oh, yes. Molto bene. You look just like...like, er, Meg, ah, Peg Bundy. Well done.” He turned to Rose. “Is Peg Bundy a Hydraxian marpletorp because really the resemblance is uncanny?”

“Doctor.”

Melody, still with Rose’s hand over her mouth, lifted her plastic bucket once again toward Mrs. Clarke, Clara following suit. The woman deposited chocolates in both girls’ pumpkins and closed the door mumbling to herself.

The girls turned to their mother. “Look, Mummy, chocolate. Trick or treating is brilliant!”

Rose rubbed the back of her neck and gave a small smile to both her daughters.

Jackie stood gaping at her daughter. “Blimey, Rose. An’ that was just the first one.”

“It’s gonna be a long night.” With a shake of her head, Rose took the hands of both girls and headed for the next door down the corridor.

By the time Melody was seven, Rose had stopped fretting everyday about the future. That's not to say that on rare occasions, when all was quiet and she was alone with her thoughts, she didn’t sometimes think about the fact that the future Doctor still hadn’t returned for Melody. But with two rambunctious children and a husband that rarely slept, those quiet times were far and few between. She didn't know if it was worse to think he wouldn't be coming back for her and the implications of that or to think that each day they spent with Melody was one day closer to the unknown end of their time together. She’d become very adept at taking each day as it came and making sure her family never felt anything but secure in her love for them.

Rose reached up to put another bauble on the tree.

“Rose, should you be doing that?”

She rolled her eyes at her mother. “I'm barely three months gone, I think I can handle decorating a Christmas tree.”

“Himself should really be helping you instead of just lazing about.”

The Doctor was spread out across the floor of Jackie’s lounge wearing a bejeweled plastic princess crown and coloring with Clarabelle.

“Mum, he’s keeping Clara occupied, which is a much harder job.”

Jackie crossed her arms looking unconvinced.

The Doctor winked at Rose and offered Clara a different colored crayon. Rose shook her head fondly and went back to decorating.

“Nana, why do you look different in all these pictures?”

Jackie crossed over to were Melody was seated at the table looking through photo albums of Rose’s childhood. “Wha’s that, sweetheart?”

She flipped through pictures of Rose and Jackie at different ages and pointed out the differences. “See, Nan, you don't look the same in these two pictures.”

Jackie smiled. “Well, in that one, see that’s your mummy I’m holding, it was right after she was born and I was only 20. But this other one was your mummy’s 18th birthday. I’m older in that photo, but I don’t look too different from now, do I? Still, I look good for bein’ a gran twice over.”

Jackie sucked her stomach in and Rose laughed. Jackie scolded, “Hush you. You’ll see one day.”

“Stop it. You still look great, Mum.”

The Doctor looked up from his coloring and grinned. “You’ve got good genes, Jackie.”

She shook her head at the Doctor, but was pleased all the same.

“But Mummy and Daddy still look the same from when I was little.”

“That’s because you see them everyday. And it doesn’t help that your father seems to only own one suit.”

“Oi! I own more than one suit. Is it my fault that I look smashing in this one?”

Jackie rolled her eyes.

The Doctor waggled his eyebrows at his wife. “Rose thinks it’s foxy.”

Jackie held up her hand. “Stop right there.”

Melody went back to studying the photographs before turning back to Jackie. “Nana, when was this one taken? I don't remember it.”

Melody handed Jackie the photo she’d taken of Rose and the Doctor at Christmas dinner right after he’d regenerated. They were leaning into each other both wearing paper crowns and had huge smiles on their faces.

A small smiled tugged at Jackie’s lips. It was obvious how in love they were even then. The idiots.

Jackie handed Melody back the photograph. “That was before you came along. Your mum and dad’s first Christmas together.”

“Second.”

Jackie frowned at the Doctor. “Second?”

“Yup, back when I was big ears and leather, I took Rose to Cardiff at Christmas to see Charles Dickens. So technically that was our first Christmas together.”

“Charles Dickens?” Jackie’s jaw dropped.

Rose called out from her spot by the tree. “He meant to take me to Venice. We only accidentally landed in Cardiff and it was pure luck that Charles Dickens was there at the same time. ‘Side’s, Doctor, it was Christmas Eve, so I'm not sure it counts.”

“Oi! Of course it counts. It was 12:05 Christmas morning when we got back to the TARDIS.”

Rose gave the Doctor a tongue touched smile. “If you say so.”

Melody tugged on Jackie’s arm, her brow creased with concentration. “What’s wrong now, sweetheart?”

“How many years ago was this? I’m seven and a half now, and you said I wasn’t born yet. So how long ago was it?”

Jackie thought for a second before replying, “Next week it’ll be exactly eight years ago.”

Melody held up the photo and looked between it and her mother now. Jackie leaned over Melody’s shoulder and did the same.

“Can I see that, Melly?”

The little girl handed Jackie the photo.

Jackie walked over to Rose and held it up right next to her. Her gasp had the Doctor scrambling up off the ground. “Rose. You-” Jackie couldn’t get the words out and instead waved the photo at her daughter.

Rose took the picture from her mother. “What’s wrong?”

“You haven’t aged a bit since you started traveling with this one.” She poked the Doctor in the chest.

“What now?” He leaned over Rose’s shoulder.

“Look at the picture of the both of you from eight years ago.”

“Okay?”

“Rose still looks exactly like she did when she was 20. She’s nearly 29 and she don’t look a day out of her teens. And don’t ‘good genes’ me this time.”

The Doctor’s brow furrowed as he studied the picture. He looked up with panic in his eyes. “Medbay. Now.”

He slapped the photo back into Jackie’s hands.

“Mum, watch the girls for a mo.’”

Jackie watched wide-eyed as the Doctor pulled Rose toward the TARDIS.

“Say something.”

The Doctor could barely look her in the eye and when he did she was hit with a wave of guilt so strong he couldn't hide it over their bond. “I’m so sorry.”

“Why’re you sorry?”

“I never wanted you to…”

“What?”

“Losing everyone you love. You live as long as me, and-”

Rose hopped off the exam table and knelt in front of him. “I won’t be losing everyone I love.”

“Your mum-”

“I lost my dad when I was a baby. And as for Mum, yeah, I don’t want to think about it, but humans are generally expected to outlive their parents.”

“Not by millennia. And...the kids.”

Rose bit her lip and nodded. “That is gonna be hard. We’ll get through it together, though, yeah?”

His eyes still avoided her, but he nodded. “Yeah.”

“The girls are gonna want to go off at some point and have their own lives. Maybe…” She licked her lips. “...Maybe we could stretch out visits to get more time with them. And we’ll make every moment we do have with them count.”

Finally a small smile pulled at his lips. “Yeah. Yes.”

“It’s not all bad, right?”

The Doctor saw the worry on Rose’s face and he pulled her into his arms. “Course not. I get you for a lot longer than I ever let myself hope.”

“I promised you my forever, and now I get to keep it with yours.” She nuzzled into the crook of his neck. “You’re stuck with me.”

He giggled bubbled free. “Stuck with you, Rose Tyler, that’s not so bad.” He kissed her on the forehead. I love you. He stood and offered her a hand. “C’mon. Let’s get back to the girls.”

Rose chewed her thumbnail. “What am I gonna tell Mum?”

“She already knows or at least suspects. You saw her out there” He rubbed his jaw. “‘Sides it doesn’t matter what we say, I’m still gonna get a slap out of it.”

#ten x rose #doctorroseprompts #accidental baby aquisition #baby fic #kid fic #jackie tyler #pregnancy #emotional hurt/comfort

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explodingdisgust-blog · 6 years

Text

The Muran Hordes I

Following on from: https://plus.google.com/114999809330885155321/posts/cXHoqpEPMYy (archive[dot]fo[slash]PN6WJ)

@marshax-marshmallow

I’ve said this before, ill say this again. On my Tumblr, or nowhere. I will address your points there, since it’s a place i’m active on and the formatting is better for me to debate things.

Sorry, did you forget something? Your old 'this is the internet' excuse? As I've said before, I don't give a fuck about where it happens. And since you bill yourself as being so 'controversial' and partisan in the particular way that any reactionary does, you are a fucking weakling by your own standards. Don't tell me that I don't know about the pride that contrarian reactionaries have when invading new spaces of discussion and spaces of thought: it's happened to liberal talking points (even in academic circles: is Peter Singer not an example of someone who is dangerously close to biological reductionism, the kernel of racism?); it's happened to 4chan (/pol/ was filled with Swarmfront shills); it's happened to YouTube with the rise of the 'skeptics' who have accelerated rightwards. So okay, LET'S FUCKING SEE HOW YOU LIKE IT. I’ll turn up in both places just so you don’t run away from what I’m saying.

Remember, though: you don't go to see reality; it comes out of nowhere and gives you a punch in the face - so don't cry about how you've got a nosebleed in this metaphorical sense. It is just like how I had completely forgotten that you were on G+. But here I am, dealing with you anyway.

People who are reading Birdie’s G+ most often aren’t here to read some rando’s papers on Marxism and Sexual freedom, and I bet Sophia doesn’t want these things spamming her notifications. My blog is where I express those kinds of things, some people read it, either out of hate or genuine interest. I agree that you want discussion and I want too, and thats why i’m saying we should take this somewhere its most likely to happen.

All you're telling me is that people don't want my walls but that says NOTHING about what they contain. Who's the fucking contrarian now, Marsha? Huh? Who's on the side of what you - and if you're right about them, all the others - want to repress? Again, so much for being so radical.

I know that this is not a dedicated thread in any sense besides the fact that I have set many of the topics but I don't care because I am here, right now, discussing this. If you really want discussion, you'll do it here with me right now. I can fuck off to Tumblr, yes, but you should know EXACTLY why I continue on G+.

You want to go into my pathologies? Fine, I'm one step ahead of you. I also do this right here because people are obviously going to see how ridiculous I seem. I mean, what the fuck? I'm posting small essays in several comment threads underneath posts which are associated with some pubescent lolcow's pathetic attempts at being funny, edgy and critical. Of course I'm going to seem like I'm a mug. THAT IS THE POINT. But you can't get rid of people like me and what I'm saying: I know that it will haunt all of you. I want you to go further and fill in what I haven't. You don't like my calls to discuss because you want 'fun' in your online bubble, but the very reasoning behind why something is 'fun' isn't a settled matter and I will confront you on that.

After all, even if I balloon into a major lolcow (if I'm not already one!), I know what might happen. Some of the users refer to some lolcows as 'cultcows' because they gain a cult-like following from their particular stalkers and trolls. You know being a cultcow can be turned to one's advantage with some major sacrifices, right? Like how Chris-Chan retains their fame? I have the pathology of a sort of 'sacrificial catalyst'; that is why I stay here. Not quite a martyr (so you won't see me getting the equivalent of '72 virgins' any time soon; I have much better things to do than submit to a disgusting cult and waste everything that I have), but far more willing to do something for what I believe in than cowardly little you. I have so many kinks to work out and numerous torturous self-imposed programmes to go through. I don't want any of your fucking guilt, but I can turn your own pathologies against you and watch you cry as I exceed your ability by your own standards. So go on, fucking outdo me. Have a great time. Make it a special occasion. ‘Controversial’ my arse.

So please, take your arguments there or stop talking to me, cause I won’t answer. Hell, you can even copy paste what you’ve said here so we can continue, but please. You dont even need to use your account afterwards.

You think I don’t know how this works? You’ll set your sex-obsessed friends on me and when you have no arguments left, you’ll spam the fuck out of me and then introduce me to all sorts of horrible people who’ll do their best to shut me down. I don’t even care any more to some extent. Prove me wrong, I dare you.

But of course, now that I’m here, you’re gonna have to actually tackle my earlier points. You don’t get to run away from those, either. And if you do get your friends involved, neither do they get to run.

Earlier posts from the G+ thread (first post first):

@marshax-marshmallow :

im glad you're finally standing for what you believe in, birdo everyone in this goddamn community thinks all dark humor makes terrible things look cool but it couldn't be farther from the truth, if you dont actually believe in what youre saying and treat everyone with respect, you're fine. also, if you have a rape fetish that's okay too, because as long as everything is in your head, you're not harming anyone. rape is a fetish because it's taboo, and if you think all rape fetishists think rape is okay in real life you are so terribly wrong. i cant express how proud i am of you

@explodingdisgust :

WELL, WELL, WELL. If it's not the contrarian little shit that I've been monitoring for the last few weeks. I've seen what you do and I've archived your precious Tumblr; do you think you can get away from your bullshit? Not when I'm around. "everyone in this goddamn community thinks all dark humor makes terrible things look cool but it couldn't be farther from the truth" Their sensitivities and lack of appreciation for the critical part of your contrarianism is not an excuse for the rest of your contrarianism to be upheld. You have made a serious position out of the 'opposite' of common Western-liberal-enlightenment values of 'decency'. I've seen your at-least-ironic racism in the first few pages of your Tumblr and I wonder whether you've changed at all. Of course, I remain quite pessimistic about that considering your 'innocent' and nonchalant response to RibChills telling you to stop sexualising her fursona. These fuckers throw the baby out with the disgusting bathwater whereas you cling onto both. I'll get to your excuses soon enough; don't think that I won't utterly demolish your entire worldview. "if you dont actually believe in what youre saying and treat everyone with respect, you're fine." Right, because respect is reducible to maintaining standards of decency while maintaining fetishes and horrific pathologies in one's own private space? And where did such ideas for such thoughts, pathologies and fetishes come from? You will tell me that it is 'human nature', that it is innate, but no biological structure (including the brain) can account for the limitless quantities and qualities of thoughts that we could possibly have. In fact, if you were to say that you were actually and inevitably controlled by brain chemicals or anything else that isn't you as a rational individual, then this idea of what you've said would be owed to such chemicals - but there is no proof that the brain structures or anything else that isn't at the level of reason itself can account for it and has simply been left hiding for all these thousands of years that human thought has been changing for. ANY FETISH IS ABOUT REASON ALONE, and the particular manifestation of this one is contrarianism - a love of what one is denied by those who follow and construct the most dominant values in societies. But because reason is intersubjective and comes from other subjects - after all, no ideas are innate, they are all communicated otherwise right now we would be able to understand the greats of philosophy in our toddler years - it cannot be something that's simply private. It can get into the 'private' domain and it can run out - ideology is reproduced memetically by us as rational subjects. Everything becomes framed in terms of rape or whatever fetishes become dominant. Rape becomes accepted and eventually it seems inevitable (just like capitalism) to the extent that it would be easier to imagine the end of the world than the end of that social phenomenon. But if people 'accept' the conditions of hypersexuality which come with the rape fetish, this is not necessarily a free choice because they are in the chains of what is socially-expected of them. Even though we are not conclusively-determined by our biology or by the laws of atomic physics, we ARE determined by movements in the social field which we too determine. The social field is inescapable and all-encompassing for rational beings (in our time, humans)! I advise you to read the works of Lacan and other psychoanalysts in matters like these. ALL of your empirical evidence about 'rape fetishists being decent people' or whatever's relevant that you want to prove only impresses those who uncritically accept the bourgeois-liberal idea of the split between the public and 'private' domains. Again, as I have shown, there is no such split. This is known to Marxists, who understand that we are not reducible to 'individuals and families' as Margaret Thatcher was an idiot to suggest. At the very least, a particular fetish is the dark reflection of the society in which one is brought up - and we are indeed brought up in a society where postmodern contrarians - neo-reactionaries and fascists of all stripes, 'progressive' or not - are in a frenzy of rebellion against ageing and self-destructive liberal values. Their solution is your solution: the uncritical acceptance of the simple negative of the old values. 'Sex is only a bit of fun, like you say, but we should embrace that instead of being all serious like you say!' And so it is with outright racism, sexism, all sorts of other things. You and the other cunts are the flies who buzz in the face of the old liberals - you are at war with yourselves over which of your identities can win out (e.g. Tumblr 'SJWs' and 'neo-Nazis' from 8chan would have serious disagreements over which groups' identities matter the most but they agree with the basic premises of a general segregationism; they feel that people are intrinsically hard-wired to behave in certain ways, for example). The paradox is that this is a very serious position for you. Yes, contrarianism is a conversion of an initial critical reaction to a given set standards into another standard position which is the simple negative of the old one. You put all your weight behind supporting 'what exists and should not exist' instead of changing the field entirely and being too contrarian for your own contrarianism. Liberals cede political ground to such identity politics because they are forced to defend free speech and uphold the domain of the 'private', which is part of the excuse that the new reactionaries use against them. But you are not reading the words of a liberal here, Marsha. I AM A PROUD AND PARTISAN MARXIST and I am not afraid to hold you or anyone else responsible for what you say as a rational subject. I seek to qualitatively-change standards, taking the best from everything in a similar way to Lacan's borrowing from other philosophers. I know that 'standing on the shoulders of giants' is what we need to do rather than 'forget everything and go full reverse gear'. This is infinitely more horrifying for you than the old conservative 'get it out of my face' mentality: I HAVE FOUND REASON TO BE BORED OF CONTRARIAN FETISHES, EVEN THE CRITICAL DIMENSION THAT THEY MIGHT HAVE. The upshot is that you are throwing VERY DANGEROUS IDEAS into childrens' minds, stripping the ideas of all critical content that they might have while branding whatever remains as hip, contrarian and critical. You want people to accept what they are trying to repress and embrace it as if it won't do anything. Sorry, Marsha. IT FUCKING WELL WILL, and you know it. Go and fuck right off from this place or be ready for another wall of text. You're not going to get away without someone shattering your excuses one-by-one. I guess it's just the internet, huh?

@marshax-marshmallow :

can you speak common english? I understood half of what you said because you feel the need to constantly bring up the Big Boy Political Labels instead of calling things for what they are, not to mention the 'holier than thou' language you parade. No, me defending free thought isn't "a spit in the face of the old western liberal contrarian ideals" or whatever and you being a PROUD, PRO LACAN AND PARTISAN MARXIST has nothing to do with any of this. Cut that bullshit, go straight to the point. And if you want people to engage in your debate, make it easy and precise for them to understand, especially since this is *Birdie's Google+* Do that, on my tumblr, and i'll try to debate with you. But I doubt you could do that without getting off your high horse

@marshax-marshmallow :

+RainbowDashie Artist Wikipedia doesn't bring up unrelated issues and neither does it use long and eloquent speech redundantly

@explodingdisgust :

So because people have NO FUCKING CLUE as to how to use dictionaries, literature and videos, I'm going to have to fucking explain everything all over again. Fucking shoot me, I do not like doing this but I consider myself ethically-bound to do so not only because I am a Marxist but because I have to try to give a bunch of kids a critical leg-up, as it were. But I will remain here to remind you that your arguments ARE DEAD and there are no two ways about it. "can you speak common english? I understood half of what you said" Right, because you can't even use one of those dictionaries that's been written by liberals let alone confront the vast tomes of thought that I am currently studying. And of course, you can't even be bothered to tell me what it is about my post that you don't understand - your only hint is that you're unfamiliar with the terminology. To everyone who isn't mentally-handicapped or a bourgeois ideologue - this is precisely the laziness of the neo-fascists! If you're serious about your position, why the fuck aren't you gonna make a much harder and more detailed defence of it? "because you feel the need to constantly bring up the Big Boy Political Labels instead of calling things for what they are," You'll be shocked to hear this but I am indeed "calling things for what they are". I am doing my best to step away from much of the horrific psychoanalytic and political terminology in my explanations of such terminology when I do include them in my work so that I'm not appearing to tailspin in the dense bodies of thought which I have confronted over the years. For example, do you not know what I mean when I make the distinction between the 'public and private domains' given the ubiquity of this sort of liberal concept? It should be very clear that the 'private domain' is simply the social world of humans (or more generally, of rational beings - a category whose only known members are humans) at the level of individuals. Come on, did you understand my use of the Margaret Thatcher quote - her erroneous judgement that society is simply 'individuals and families'? Is that 'Big Boy' enough for you, huh? What about the 'simple negation' of Western-liberal-Enlightenment values - or more simply put, of 'conservative' values? I mean 'simple negation' here in a sense that anyone who's understood Hegel, Marx and Engels in even the slightest fashion can understand it: it is simply a particular 'not' of the prevailing values around a preconceived axis - that instead of rape fetishism being a taboo, 'it's fine and doesn't even harm anyone'; that instead of ironic racism being unspeakable, 'it's nothing like that; it's absolutely fine and it's just a joke'; that instead of repressing and trying to minimise sexuality and confining it to the private space of desire, 'it's completely fine to be hypersexual and it's fucking fun too'. It is not a complete change of values, taking the best from both the proposed worldviews and discarding parts of them where they are 'both worse' and constitute a 'double blackmail'. Your particular 'simple negation' accepts much of liberal philosophy and comes to reactionary, fascistic conclusions: the hypersexual and supposedly-hedonistic libertinism (look that up) of the private domain is to be brought into public view and then celebrated as something inevitable and fun, even among children. To go a bit Zizekian: the opponents that you recognise, the conservative defenders of 'decency', have taken the blue pill because for them 'none of this overtly-sexual rubbish should happen' and it represents the degeneration of Western values; you have taken the red pill, seeing 'reality' for what it is and celebrating it. The bluepilled and redpilled consider themselves to be opposites of one another. Marxists, meanwhile, do not recognise even many liberal conclusions which both the blue and red pills depend on: we construct and take a third pill even if it's just from bits and pieces of the red pill and the blue pill - it's something more than simply the two combined. For Marxists, the private-public distinction is very weak because the very stuff of reason that 'private individuals use' is shared between people - after all, how was much of it given to them? Were they born with it? If so, where is your empirical evidence about this and how does it prove that it can be owed to something that they were born with? If I'm wrong here, toddlers would say that they understand neurobiology or quantum physics without any intervention from us! Show me a study which says that they can do that. My claim otherwise is contrapositive (in a formal-logical sense and not a dialectical one); it is based on the lack of evidence for the opposite claim. See how far I'm willing to go to drive my points home to someone who essentially claims is that I am like an arrogant priest who is speaking to the hopeless and stupid laity? Frankly, if you don't understand my points, it is because you don't fucking want to understand them and you are consciously going out of your way to not investigate. You are also involved in this excuse of a discussion whether you like it or not.

"not to mention the 'holier than thou' language you parade." Fucking hell. You are serious when you say this? We are in dark times. MOTHERFUCKER, ANYONE CAN UNDERSTAND WHAT I AM SAYING IF THEY CONFRONT THE WORKS THAT I HAVE DRAGGED MYSELF THROUGH; I AM NO FUCKING PRIEST. I DO NOT HAVE ACCESS TO SOME SACRED TEXT THAT ONLY I HAVE THE SPECIAL ABILITIES TO DECIPHER. Because I have done what I can think of to explain myself, the onus is on you and the other boring contrarian ARSEHOLES to get the fuck over to the literature of the traditions that I identify with and use in order to understand 'the other half' of what I'm saying. If I knew that you would never be able to approximate what I'm saying, why would I bother to explain myself instead of condescendingly passing by and sneering at you for subscribing to an 'inferior' worldview? In fact, why would I even be here at all? And no, before you fucking pipe up about how I want to 'indoctrinate children' and throw other stupid accusations in front of me, I do not want you or anyone else to take what I'm saying as scripture. I want you to critique and extend what I'm saying; I want to construct a dialectic here. I am willing to spend hours of time flooding you with oceans of text not because I wish to wave my pride before you but because I want to discuss things and explain what I'm saying. I want people - including children - to be empowered using philosophy, science and all the other kinds of knowledge and standards of reason. "No, me defending free thought isn't "a spit in the face of the old western liberal contrarian ideals" or whatever and you being a PROUD, PRO LACAN AND PARTISAN MARXIST has nothing to do with any of this." WRONG. The traditions of Marx and Lacan do concern themselves with matters such as sexuality, ideology, 'free thought', small-scale politics and all of that. If sexuality, for example, was not a concern of Marxism, then there would be little or no discussion of it among Marxists. So why would Engels, not only a Marxist but one of the founders of Marxism, write THIS? marxists.org - Origins of the Family. Chapter 2 (IV) And why would Freud, a psychoanalyst who had much to say about sexuality, have his work incorporated into political theory many times over by the Frankfurt school of Marxism if Marxist politics have nothing to do with sex? And in Lacan's case, what about his 'equations of sexuality'? Go on, go to Google, Bing, DDG or whatever search engine you want and type in 'lacan equations of sexuality'. Even besides that, you are telling me that none of what I'm saying matters, but what I am discussing entirely relates to how best it is to consider sexuality. It is not separate from politics at all - the sexual IS political, it IS a performance, it's not simply a matter of 'up-and-down movements'. Why would we question why we fuck at all? Why would we even do it in the first place if it's just a load of movements? You can try to argue that it's a matter of biology, but one can ask: 'why should we humans reproduce? Why should society be about biological reproduction?' So no, SEX IS NOT OUTSIDE POLITICS, and it is thus the concern of Marxist politics and of political philosophy in general. In fact, the great irony about your sentence here is that it is a political statement even as far as discussing sexuality is concerned. I mean, seriously? Are your understandings of philosophy and politics THAT bad? Then again, I know that you are nothing short of a troll if your insistence on repeating your boring humour (e.g. ironic racism) and your recent Discord 'raids' are anything to go by - so you have a vested interest in not sitting down, shutting the fuck up and understanding my words. Never mind that the greatest troll is to seriously engage with my arguments and leave me with the much bigger task of having to find more material. Of course, what are you actually trying to say here? You are no 'free-thinker'. Instead, you are another boring contrarian who viciously upholds the seemingly-permissive, seemingly-inclusive 'simple negative' of prevailing ideas of decency! That is as far as you will go in being critical of the current state of the world. 'Accept your sins!' you scream. 'They are inevitable and natural! Why do anything to stop them? It's the internet, for fuck's sake!' Meanwhile, here is a Marxist asking for something much more radical - and it is going to horrify you to no end. MAKE SEX BORING AGAIN. I am no enemy of the freedom-chasing power of contrarianism; I encourage its use. But contrarianism is not free enough; it is still in the chains of thinking that it's the only possible opposition to the current ruling order. So in a way, it is not me that's holier-than-thou, IT IS YOUR CONTRARIANISM ITSELF, because it fails to unlock a new critical dimension and sneers before any attempts to go further than its own particular opposition to the status quo. But it also concerns Marxism in another way because it concerns (Marxian) Communism, the unique proletarian movement which seeks the end of class divisions and the end of capitalism. You want us to accept the logic of the private space, the fantasies of domination and mindless experimentation. Do you know what this is, Marsha? IT IS THE LOGIC OF THE BOURGEOIS CLASS. Nothing is off limits for the rulers of the world besides Communism. If they want to fuck a child, for example, they can bloody well go ahead and do it without being questioned. This is outrageous! We are allowing these people to do whatever the fuck they want regardless of the very real consequences including the social blackmails and lack of real choices that people are faced with despite legally being able to do many more things? Yes, Marsha, if something is recognised as being 'legal' by a government, it does not make it right. And even if a choice is 'guaranteed' by a given legal system, it is not necessarily put in place. If people are allowed to have rocket launchers and while one person can buy a rocket launcher and another who is otherwise the same as the first person can only afford a slingshot, who is more likely to destroy the other in a fight with their weapons? The politics of freedom is the politics of tearing apart the divison of the 'private' and public domains so that we no longer fuck around and do things without criticism. But in fact, this also frees the once-bourgeois in a sense because they can move on to do better and more effective things as dictated by reason, which does not represent the will of a particular person but all people including themselves. The bourgeois defence of what they believe to be this closed-off private space is nothing more than a defence of stupidity which is supposed to be 'kept away from the masses' but never truly is.

"Cut that bullshit, go straight to the point."

Sorry, Marsha. In trying to explain my points to you, I AM OBLIGED TO TYPE OUT THESE GIANT RESPONSES in case you misunderstand what I'm claiming if you

decide to engage with the arguments that I bring against you. There is so much to go through that you are going to have to sit down - perhaps for years - and read the works of those who are in the same traditions as I am. Worse still, you will have to read the works of others outside such traditions to compare and critique the various ideas which they discuss. Nothing is truly simple in the world whether you like it or not. Unfortunately, we live in times of clickbait, woefully-short attention spans and a lack of self-discipline (this is true even of myself!). You are going to confront your laziness even if you want to argue your own case in an effective way.

"And if you want people to engage in your debate, make it easy and precise for them to understand, especially since this is

Birdie's Google+

And what the fuck do you think I've been trying to do? Again, why would I even bother turning up? Get this: I know that I don't seem credible in the eyes of the hundreds of children who read her posts and I don't necessarily give a fuck - so if you accuse me of doing this to wave my fucking pride in front of you, you're dead wrong.

You can try to give me an Encyclopedia Dramatica - style diagnosis about 'the

real

reasons why I'm here' but anyone can say what I'm saying regardless of their psychology. I could've come here with a great big beaming smile on my face. I could adopt the same contrarian snark that you have. That you are confronted with an angry, grave and seemingly-parental scumbag is

irrelevant

because it subtracts nothing from the vast majority of what I'm saying. Motherfucker, do you know what an 'ad-hominem' fallacy is? Attacking a person rather than an argument which anyone can make does not attack that argument. If I said 'you're Brazillian and you come from a degenerate nation, your opinion doesn't matter', I would be making a stupid claim because I wouldn't have actually said why what you're saying is wrong - at most, I would've said something about the real social forces which led you to adopt this reasoning. So don't come to me with any ad-hominems of your own without engaging with my points themselves because it's not going to fucking work - even for your pride, especially now that you've tried to position yourself as a defender of freedom with all the dignity that comes with it.

"Do that, on my tumblr, and i'll try to debate with you."

First, I do not have access to a Tumblr page or account and I do not want to create one. Second, why NOT discuss shit here? Come on, what gets added to my arguments if I bugger off to Tumblr? Besides that, I am here because I would like to make a great big example out of you. You are 'sinfulmarsh', are you not? A crusader for 'free thought' and open 'acceptance' of (hyper-)sexuality, yes? Lover of all that's taboo, uncomfortable and other shit like that?

Well, fuck you. I am proud to turn up on some 'random' corner of the internet (which, in reality, is NOT 'random' at all but one that I've consciously-selected) and fire walls of text in your direction. If you don't like that, remember that 'it's the internet' and anything can happen; *

BY YOUR OWN STANDARDS OF REASONING

**, YOU SHOULDN'T BE MOANING SO MUCH. So much for being a contrarian, eh, Marsha? Where's your fucking 'free thought'?*

"But I doubt you could do that without getting off your high horse"

Your accusation is laced with with irony considering how your anti-intellectualism is itself an arrogant denial of my words having any worth whatsoever. You don't even bother to ask me any questions relating to the arguments themselves; do you think I won't spot that? FUCK YOU, Marsha. I am at least one step ahead of you because I know what it's like to be a contrarian; I've passed through this phase and I've become even 'worse' since. I know the tricks and the blind spot of your contrarianism; at its most general, it is the same as my own, and I am quite far beyond it as someone who seeks that 'third pill'. In fact, I am far more contrarian precisely because I seek to change values and standards. I have learned to weaponise my contrarianism! That is what is so unsettling for you about Marxists: we are you and more; we can emulate your modes of thought. We seek to take the best out of everything and turn it into something more.

---

@explodingdisgust :

Ah, look at this! Is 'eloquent' not a Big Boy word? Look at this motherfucker betray her own rhetorical standards. No shame, huh? And so the snake eats its own tail; the beginning of Marsha's dissonance is here. Meanwhile, for those of us who aren't busy trying to uphold degeneracy and soft forms of servitude:

https://www.revleft.space/vb/threads/195805-SL-cultism-exposed!!?s=d2444b96573a3897b1e106ae6f9bf772&p=2873207#post2873207

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d3bBreSgaik

---

@explodingdisgust :

And before anyone says that I've misunderstood them, remember that you don't get to choose how your statements are interpreted unless you craft your words very carefully. If I missed something, point it out. If not, explain yourself or get lost.

---

@marshax-marshmallow

I’ve said this before, ill say this again. On my Tumblr, or nowhere. I will address your points there, since it’s a place i’m active on and the formatting is better for me to debate things. People who are reading Birdie’s G+ most often aren’t here to read some rando’s papers on Marxism and Sexual freedom, and I bet Sophia doesn’t want these things spamming her notifications. My blog is where I express those kinds of things, some people read it, either out of hate or genuine interest. I agree that you want discussion and I want too, and thats why i’m saying we should take this somewhere its most likely to happen. So please, take your arguments there or stop talking to me, cause I won’t answer. Hell, you can even copy paste what you’ve said here so we can continue, but please. You dont even need to use your account afterwards.

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innerchilddailywrk · 3 years

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25 Signs You Have a Wounded Inner Child

Feeling Safe Inner Child image

Pay close attention to these signs. They will help you learn the general extent to which your inner child has been wounded and the level to which you feel unsafe in this world. The more signs you say “yes” to, the more you need to seriously consider inner child work:

In the deepest part of me, I feel that there’s something wrong with me.

I experience anxiety whenever contemplating doing something new.

I’m a people-pleaser and tend to lack a strong identity.

I’m a rebel. I feel more alive when I’m in conflict with others.

I tend to hoard things and have trouble letting go.

I feel guilty standing up for myself.

I feel inadequate as a man or woman.

I’m driven to always be a super-achiever.

I consider myself a terrible sinner and I’m afraid of going to hell.

I constantly criticize myself for being inadequate.

I’m rigid and perfectionistic.

I have trouble starting or finishing things.

I’m ashamed of expressing strong emotions such as sadness or anger.

I rarely get mad, but when I do, I become rageful.

I have sex when I don’t really want to.

I’m ashamed of my bodily functions.

I spend too much time looking at pornography.

I distrust everyone, including myself.

I am an addict or have been addicted to something.

I avoid conflict at all costs.

I am afraid of people and tend to avoid them.

I feel more responsible for others than for myself.

I never felt close to one or both of my parents.

My deepest fear is being abandoned and I’ll do anything to hold onto a relationship.

I struggle to say “no.”

If you answered yes to ten or more of these statements, working with your inner child should be at the top of your priority list. If you answered yes to five or more of these statements, you should seriously consider reconnecting with your inner child.

How to Support Your Inner Child in Feeling Safe

Inner child healing image

Hold the hand of the child that lives in your soul. For this child, nothing is impossible. – Paulo Coelho

We all have an inner child. When was the last time you spoke or connected with yours? How often do you take the time to tune in and listen to your needs? Do you regularly make space to play and enjoy life?

As human beings, we are not linear or two-dimensional creatures. We are all multi-faceted and have multiple selves. Think about it for a moment: the ‘you’ currently reading this article is very different from the ‘you’ joking around with colleagues, isn’t it? The ‘you’ in the middle of the night is very different from the ‘you’ going to the movies with your partner or friend. The ‘you’ talking to your parents is very different from the ‘you’ talking with your boss.

Your inner child is an essential part of the intricate patchwork that makes up your identity. When you ignore or deny your inner child, he/she is doomed to wither away within the deep dark vaults of your unconscious mind.

Disclaimer: there is so much pain to be faced with inner child work. But there is also so much joy and so much vitality to be experienced. One of the most exciting and miraculous parts of inner child work is that often hidden gifts and aptitudes that we’ve long lost touch with emerge. Not only that, but many of our relationships improve, our addictions/habits lessen or fade away, and our connection with ourselves deepens. Self-love and acceptance are finally possible. I’m not saying you will experience all of these benefits right away, but you will most certainly experience something beneficial so long as you’re committed!

Also, I want to say here that these exercises are not intended to replace therapy, programs or groups for the inner child or child abuse. If you’ve gone through child sexual abuse, severe emotional abuse, or have a mental illness, seeking professional help is essential. This article is only meant to be a supplement. Finally, if you experience strange or overwhelming emotions while practicing the advice below, please stop immediately. Seek the help of a professional counselor before proceeding.

Remember that everything takes time. The practices below are not quick fixes. They’re not sparkly wands that will immediately make everything better. But they will give you the basic tools you need for feeling safe, secure, and protected at a core level. I truly hope you find something below that will nourish you and your relationship with your inner child. And remember, if you need more in-depth help, I recommend finding more inner child healing exercises in our Inner Child Journal.

Here are the summarized points:

Reflect on the timeline of your childhood

Write a letter to your inner child

Write a letter from your inner child

Share your pain with a trusted person

Loving and supportive affirmations

Do an inner child visualization/meditation

Be your own protector and nurturer

I’ll go more in-depth into these points below:

1. Reflect on the timeline of your childhood

You might like to get a piece of paper or document on your computer and divide your childhood into the following stages: Infant Self (0-9 months), Toddler Self (9 months to 3 years), Preschool Self (3-6 years), and School-Aged Self (6 years to puberty).

Within each stage, try your best to recall how you felt, what life was like, and how safe, supported, and accepted you felt. Keep in mind that feeling safe as a child didn’t always have to do with the family environment. Often the school or other environments that we spent a lot of time in shaped our inner child. Record any memories or physical sensations you had, even if they feel fragmented. Record the tones of voice, expressions, and words your parents or teaches used when interacting with you. Even if a memory seems silly or a reaction you remember having seemed excessive, please write it down. As an adult, it’s important to honor what your inner child authentically experienced, even if it seems ridiculous or exaggerated as an adult.

The more information and emotionally-charged material you have for a particular age range, the more you need to focus on connecting with that particular stage. I’ll share with you how below.

2. Write a letter TO your inner child

Imagine that you’re a wise, gentle, and loving wizard or fairy godmother. Imagine that you want to adopt your inner child. As you write the letter, tell your inner child how much you love them and want to spend time with them. Write in a way that makes you feel safe, cared for, and understood. Here’s an example from a letter I have written to my inner child:

Dear Little Ale,

I’m so happy you’re born. I am here to protect, love, and care for you. I want to help you feel loved and accepted for who you are. I want to show you that it’s safe to be heard, to feel, and to be seen. I want you to feel like you will always have a home with me no matter what. I want to help and guide you every step of the way. I love you so much.

Love, Fairy Godmother Aletheia

If you feel emotional during this process, it’s okay. Let yourself cry and be proud of your courage to express how you truly feel.

3. Write a letter FROM your inner child

Using your non-dominant hand (in order to bypass your logical side of the brain), write yourself a letter from the perspective of your inner child. For example, if you are usually right-handed, use your left hand to write. Using your non-dominant hand will help you get more in touch with the feelings of your inner child. Here is my own example of my inner child speaking to me:

Dear Godmother,

I want to find home. Please protect me. I don’t want to feel alone anymore.

Love, Little Ale

You can write back and forth between your Wizard/Fairy Godmother self and your little self. Creating this conversation often reveals a lot of surprising and buried emotions, and new information.

4. Share your pain with a trusted person

It is important that the pain you went through as a child is validated and heard by someone. Whether you seek out a caring friend, support group, or trusted therapist please understand that sharing your feelings is essential to all inner child work. Sure, you can do it alone. And you can do a lot of deep work alone in general. But in order to experience a ‘breakthrough’ or even just to heal deeply, sharing is important. We are social creatures who need others to hold space for us. Your pain needs to be lovingly validated. If the person you’re sharing your inner child work with is questioning, arguing, or trying to give advice to you, you’re not getting what you need!

Here, it is vital for me to emphasize the need to seek real caring and nurturing support. If you don’t have friends who are mature or capable enough of doing this, please consider finding a therapist or spiritual counselor. There are many affordable options out there. Investing in your well-being and mental health IS worth it. There are also many professionals out there who specialize in inner child work or hold workshops. Counselor and self-help writer John Bradshaw writes “I believe that group work is the most powerful form of therapy” when referring to inner child work. But one thing: please don’t share with your family members, even if they are caring. Family members who have not done their own inner child work are much less capable of dealing with yours. Defensiveness, anger, finger-pointing, and grief may result in sharing your feelings with family members, so please don’t do it.

Sharing takes tremendous courage and inner strength. It’s normal and okay to feel scared! Feel the fear, and if you feel ready, share anyway.

5. Loving and supportive affirmations

Loving affirmations are a powerful way to affirm your worthiness and support your journey in feeling safe. When repeated consistently, affirmations have a way of rewiring the brain and sinking down into unconscious layers of programming. Repeating such messages can result in deep change and healing at a primal level.

Here are some loving and supportive affirmations you can say to yourself throughout the day and during meditation:

I will stay here and support you.

Welcome to the world, I’ve been waiting to hold you.

I love you just the way you are.

I’m so glad you’re here.

I want to take care of you.

I want to spend time with you.

I want to hear your thoughts and feelings.

It’s OK to feel sad and scared.

It’s OK to be yourself.

You’re allowed to say no.

You are so special to me.

You have so much to offer the world.

I believe in you.

I will protect you against harm.

You can say these affirmations as many times as you need, whenever is necessary during the day. You might even like to use a special voice when saying these affirmations, such as the voice of a wise old man or a loving mother.

Also feel free to create your own loving affirmations! The list above will help you get started, but often the most powerful affirmations organically arise from your deepest needs.

6. Do an inner child visualization/meditation

You will need to dedicate about half an hour or more to this exercise. Find a quiet and comfortable space, and either sit or lie down.

Imagine that you are about to meet your inner child. You walk outside into your backyard and he/she is playing in a sandbox. What age is he/she? You walk up to your inner child and sit down. “Hello,” you might say, introducing yourself. You look into the eyes of your inner child. What is he/she feeling towards you? Curiosity? Trepidation? Shyness? Skepticism? Excitement? Respect your inner child and his/her boundaries. If he/she wishes to hug you or shake your hand, let that happen. If not, it’s okay. Your inner child may just need to warm up to you. You might next wish to ask, “What do you need the most?” If you are communicating with your infant self during this visualization, the response might come as a visceral feeling as opposed to communicating with your school-aged self who might respond verbally. If your inner child tells you what they need, provide a safe space for them. Let them feel heard, seen, understood, and loved by you. You might like to share with them how much you love and care for them, and wish them to be cared for. If your inner child wishes to be cradled, hugged, or held, embrace the opportunity. Once you feel that your mission to connect with your inner child has been completed, you can visualize yourself walking back into your house. Focus on your breathing, stretch your body, and open your eyes.

I recommend journaling about the experience. Journaling is a wonderful tool for self-reflection, deepening your self-understanding, and also serving as a way to document your progress. So take a few minutes to do it!

7. Be your own protector and nurturer

As adults, it’s important that we take responsibility for our emotional well-being. Feeling safe in this world is extremely important and essential for our inner child to thrive. Signs that you feel unsafe in this world may include:

Constant anxiety around others

Tendency to worry excessively

Inability to trust others

Inability to trust yourself and your abilities

Feeling afraid to do things by yourself

Harsh criticism of yourself

Fear of trying new things or going to new places

Assuming the worst in every situation

If you can relate to the feeling of constantly ‘being on edge’ in the world and around others, I strongly recommend focusing on feeling safe with yourself. Constant self-criticism, ignoring your needs, lacking personal boundaries, always putting others above yourself, and changing yourself to be accepted all keep you in a fearful state of not feeling safe.

While our parents or guardians may not have fulfilled most of our needs (or any of our needs), the beautiful truth is that we can. The concept is strange, even foreign to us, but we can be our own parents!

The benefits of re-parenting yourself?

Greater happiness and optimism

Improved creativity

Healthier mind, body, and soul

Stronger friendships and relationships

Development of essential life skills: acceptance, forgiveness, vulnerability, compassion, self-love

If you find it really hard to re-parent your inner child, seeking help from an inner child work familiarized therapist will be a wise investment. Therapists, after all, act as substitute parents. They can listen to and help coach your inner child, while supporting and strengthening your inner parent.

If you prefer to go solo, that is absolutely possible. However, please do seek out a support network if you can, whether online or in real life.

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merrywetherweather · 6 years

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Last Jedi Spoilers and Thoughts

So I just had to sit down and think some things through because I just saw The Last Jedi and as with every piece of media I consume, I’m overanalyzing it. There’s just a few things I wanna hit on and maybe predictions in here for the next film.

Firstly, I’d just like to touch upon the actual film itself. As a Star Wars fan, I’m immediately enamored with anything relating to the franchise being released, so I’m reluctant to even give criticisms. However, episode VIII was not as great as it could have been. The constant POV switching was annoying, since I felt like some scenes needed to linger for a longer period of time. I couldn’t build up enough attention or emotion for one particular instance without the film jumping again, leaving me frustrated. If the scenes had been longer and cuts happened less frequently, I felt like there would have been enough emotion and tension built up for the finale to actually feel like a satisfying and breathtaking culmination of everything that was/has happening/happened. The cogs were spinning independently, but not enough to set the whole machine in motion. It didn’t have as much of an impact as it should.

Secondly, I’d like to touch upon the relationships portrayed. The first was Finn and Rose. I want to start by saying, I like Rose and any major POC characters added to a giant franchise like Star Wars is wholly welcome. She’s also just a great character in general, but I don’t know if her arc was actually needed.The entire expedition to find a hacker was made pointless by Vice Admiral Amilyn’s hidden plan to stay aboard the main vessel, while allowing the rebels to escape. Their entire arc felt more like a pitch to introduce us to Rose and then immediately try to sell a romantic relationship between her and Finn to the fanbase. They haven’t even known each other for a day and she’s already confessed and kissed him (Also what is it with this new trend of ending each Star Wars film with putting the POC character in a coma?).

Another thing is if the franchise is going to push this ship along and try and force its canonization, it feels like it might have come as a direct response from people shipping Poe and Finn. Rather than have a gay couple, it almost seems to be pacifying the fanbase with a biracial POC couple. Honest to god, both forms of representation are needed in film today, but when adding in the facts that Rose’s arc and her confession felt forced and everyone was expressing a call for a romance between Poe and Finn, it does seem like the franchise has found a giant loophole to the reason why they can’t write in a gay romance. “But isn’t this good representation too?” Well, yes. But if it’s also at the cost of other forms of representation, what the fuck is even the point?

The other relationship that was heavily emphasized in this episode was the connection that Rey now shares with Kylo (I say Kylo because he’s still part of the Sith until otherwise portrayed). Before I get into any of the underlying romantic tension (which I am now on the fence of liking or disliking for a few different reasons) I’m going to delve into his character. Without any backstory, it was pretty easy to write him off as a pasty emo fuckboy who occasionally threw temper tantrums in episode VII. Now that we know how he was turned to the Sith, the audience can maybe find a little sympathy that he was almost murdered in his sleep by his mentor and his uncle (”Cool motive, still murder”.)

Knowing this, Rey feels the need to try and correct Luke’s mistake by giving Kylo someone he can trust, someone who is willing to meet him at his level and pull him back to the Light. It is important to note the scene where they almost touch through the force, he has taken off his gloves. In cinema, any time someone is wearing gloves, it generally indicates that the character has hidden intentions. In that moment, however, Kylo was being open and trusting Rey. Whether the audience feels he is irredeemable or not doesn’t matter. He does still have some good in him and Rey wants to save it.

In the throne room with Snoke, things are a little different. It’s no longer just him and Rey. He needs to make a decision. Every time he has to kill someone he loves or cares about, he’s being asked to pledge his loyalty. But Rey knelt before him as someone who had bestowed her trust in him fully. She deemed Luke’s decision wrong. She was on Kylo’s side when it came to his past. She went to him. She got on his level. She earned his trust. Kylo is a very unstable person. It is reflected in how his lightsaber is built, in his pained and guilty expressions when he killed his father, and the way he hesitated and decided not to kill his mother. But, in that throne room, the only thing he was sure about in that moment was that he couldn’t kill Rey. So, if he can’t kill Rey, what does he do? He kills the guy asking him to do it.

Then after he deals with Snoke’s guards, the consequences hit him. He looks at an empty throne and he absolutely panics. Rey just mentioned saving the rebels. He can’t go back, not now. Not after what he’s done. He’s scared of facing his mother and all the people he’s stolen friends, family, and comrades from. Kylo is not a person aspiring to the throne. He craves power, but not that kind of power. He’s someone looking desperately for acceptance and he thinks power is how he gets there. He didn’t find it when he was training as a Jedi and he didn’t find it trying to follow in Darth Vader’s footsteps. Rey has shown him fleeting moments of acceptance, but in that moment of panic, he comes to a different decision. Someone new is going to assume Snoke’s throne and it might as well be him. He said a “new order”. He says he doesn’t want The Jedi, The Rebels, or The Sith. But, really, he just doesn’t want to go home. The throne and the new order he speaks of are just an excuse. So, his cowardice wins out and he flips again.

Kylo is not someone lost to the dark side. He’s constantly straddling the edge and it’s tearing him apart. That’s why Luke tells him if he strikes him down, he’ll never leave him. The guilt will remain with him forever. Just like his father. In terms of his relationship with Rey, she is supposedly the Light equal to his Dark. They are two sides of the same coin. But, just like Kylo straddles the edge, so does Rey. But she does it from the side of Light. Each time we see her train, she’s immediately pulled in. Her first lesson is feeling the force and she’s swept into the Dark after experiencing everything in the Light. Physically, it’s manifested in her morning training with the staff and lightsaber. With the staff, she can stop herself just before hitting the rock. With the saber, she accidentally drives it all the way through. She straddles the edge from the side of Light while Kylo does so on the side of Dark. In this way, they’re in perfect balance (I mean, it’s obvious these characters are foils and there is definitely romantic tension between them.).

But because Kylo has done so much wrong, it is hard to find him redeemable, unless he proves himself. And nothing proves itself as redeemable to an audience more than sacrifice through death. This setup is an obvious parallel to Vader’s redemption, but whether or not the plot will play out that way is a different matter. There are three possible options here. One: Kylo is deemed irredeemable and Rey must cut him down, thus ending in his death. Two: Kylo redeems himself through sacrifice. Three: Kylo is saved by Rey and pulled into the Light (This would be a very unfavorable outcome to audience members who dislike him. All cannot be forgiven so easily, which is why most villains who’ve performed heinous acts generally are killed off for redemption.).

I would wager though, that he does make it out of the franchise alive and that he must redeem himself by actually living with the consequences of his actions instead. Of the three options, I know Kylo would rather choose the ones ending in death than go back and deal with all of his mistakes. So, as unsatisfying as option three might be for the audience, I might actually prefer it, as it would thoroughly punish and make him repent. THAT would make him redeemable in my eyes.

As for the romantic relationship that seems to be building between Rey and him, I’m conflicted. They balance each other out as decent foils, but the question of, “Is he redeemable?” still lingers in the air. Rey believes so. The audience’s opinion doesn’t matter in that case. But there’s also the “woman saving the man’s soul” trope hanging about and there’s a lot to say about how it isn’t her damn job to do that even though she’s choosing to. The only thing I know for certain is that they’re going to have continued chemistry. There was the foreshadowing “saving what you love” quote from Rose and the fact that Snoke is no longer connecting them through the force but they are still reaching out to each other after he died. They haven’t given up on each other yet. Rey closed the door on him so to speak, but their connection is still there.

One last piece I wanted to discuss was when Leia was relieved of command and Vice Admiral Amilyn had to assume control. It was wholly unnecessary to leave everyone out of the loop of their plan of escape. I was also worried the entire time that they were pulling an “incompetent bitchy woman in charge” trope with a little “man who obviously knows what he’s doing” spice thrown in. Leia in charge is fine because she’s recognizable. She’s awesome. She’s practically an “honorary man”. But they threw in a new woman in charge and suddenly I was very scared they were going to make her the bad guy. Just another bitch/boss trope. When it turned out she was competent and knew what she was doing, could handle her shit, and treated Poe like he was a misbehaving toddler, I was relieved but found the entire ordeal completely unneeded. Just let her come across competent to start. It was just unnecessary drama and filler.

Other than all that, my favorite part was the lightsaber battle in the red room with the guards. Cinematically, it was the most aesthetically pleasing to look at, and any time your enemy becomes your momentary ally, you just know some good shits gonna pop off. Also, since the lightsaber broke in half, I think it is safe to assume Rey will finally get her own duel sided saber. (Then we can have her actually be a force to reckon with during saber fight scenes since she’s more competent with her staff).

#star wars #the last jedi #last jedi spoilers #kylo ren #rey #poe dameron #finn #rose #leia #character analysis #plot analysis #movie analysis #i just had a lot of thoughts and i needed to type them out to understand how im feeling about the characters rn

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woodelf68 · 7 years

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The Way Forward

Movie night prompt for @a-monthly-rumbelling. Adult!Gideon fluff, and a way to fix the fact that (in this ‘verse) Rumbelle never got a chance to raise their own baby. Rated G, 3085 words.

“Gideon, this is your nephew Henry.”

They’d run into each other after leaving Granny’s for their first meal out with Gideon. It had been an uncomfortable hour, as Gideon was subject to the stares of everyone who had been in the diner -- some merely curious, but others openly suspicious or even hostile. Gideon had alternately tried to hunch himself into invisibility or met the stares with a look of cold aloofness on his face that Gold had found eerily similar to the one that he knew he wore on his own face sometimes. It was meant to convey that you didn’t care in the least what the other person was thinking of you, when in fact you felt completely differently inside. Belle had kept up a steady stream of chatter, trying to distract Gideon, but Gold knew that if Gideon were to be accepted by Storybrooke, and hopefully find some friends, then he needed to be seen in the company of someone other than the Dark One and his wife. Seeing Henry coming towards them on the sidewalk had seemed too fortuitous an opportunity to pass up.

Henry, bless his soul, smiled and stuck his hand out. “Nice to meet you.”

Gideon shook it awkwardly, having learned this custom already. “Hi, Henry. Look, I’m sorry that I tried to kill your mother, I -- “

“I know, you were being controlled by the Black Fairy; she had your heart,” Henry said with far more understanding and acceptance than Gideon felt he had any right to. “It’s okay; it’s over now.”

Gideon smiled uncertainly. “If you’re sure…”

“Trust me, everyone in this family has done some pretty bad things, even when they weren’t being cursed or controlled.” Henry shot a glance at first Belle, then Rumpelstiltskin. He still felt ashamed that he hadn’t thought about Belle being trapped in a sleeping curse when he had attempted to destroy all magic. He had apologised, and both his grandparents had said they’d forgiven him, but it was not something he liked remembering. He wouldn’t hold Gideon’s past against him.

Belle looked sideways at Rumpelstiltskin, and found him looking back at her. She took his hand in hers and squeezed it. “Yeah, we have. And we make amends the best we can, and we try to move on.”

Rumpelstiltskin squeezed back.

“It’s weird,” Henry told Gideon. “If you hadn’t gotten magically screwed over, you wouldn’t even have been born yet. But I think I’ll like having an uncle who’s older than me, like most uncles are.” He glanced at Gold. “Have you told him about Neal?”

“We haven’t had time yet, what with everything that’s been going on.” Rumpelstiltskin said. It had been less than a week since the Black Fairy had been destroyed and he’d been able to return Gideon’s heart to him, and it had seemed more important to learn about Gideon’s life than to bring up his own painful past. He could tell that it was tough on Gideon, transitioning into this new life, in a town where he had tried to kill the woman everyone knew as the Savior.

“Neal was my dad,” Henry explained softly, his own eyes echoing the sudden sadness in his grandfather’s. “Your half-brother, from my grandpa’s marriage to his first wife Milah. Who ran off with Captain Hook who just married my mother.” An odd look crossed his face as he recited the facts. “That will never get any less weird when I stop to think about it. We’ve had a lot of timey-wimey stuff happen in this family, your growing up in a different realm is par for the course, really.”

“‘Was’?” Gideon had to ask, knowing what the answer would be. He would have known if he had a brother around.

“Yeah. He died.” Henry swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat. “I never even knew him until a few years ago, either. He never knew I existed until then.”

“I’m sorry,” Gideon said gently. “You’ll have to tell me about him.”

“We all will,” said Belle, firmly. “He died a hero.”

“I have pictures,” Henry offered. “You can look through my photo album.” He cocked his head. “You don’t look like him, you look like your dad. I guess my dad took after his mother more.”

“He did,” confirmed Rumpelstiltskin.

“I’d like that,” Gideon told Henry. “What was that other thing you said, though -- ‘timey-wimey’?”

“Oh, that’s from a TV series.” Henry brightened up. “I’ll have to introduce you to some good TV series. And movies! We’ll have to have a movie night, no, lots of movie nights, there’s a lot you need to catch up on, because certain movies have become part of popular culture, and people will refer to them, and you won’t know what they’re talking about. But I’ll help get you up to speed. That is, if you want,” he added uncertainly, when Gideon didn’t reply right away.

Feeling slightly overwhelmed, and somewhat taken aback by Henry’s friendliness in a town where he had not found any yet so far, Gideon hastened to reassure him. “Yes, I would. Thank you. I don’t know anything about how to be an uncle, but I could use a friend.”

“Uncles take their nephews to the movies and buy them ice cream afterwards,” said Henry mischievously.

“Ah, about that --” Gideon began, then noticed his father pulling his wallet out of his pocket and extracting several bills, which he held out.

“Here. You now have money. Go take your nephew to the movies and buy him ice cream afterwards.” Rumpelstiltskin smiled.

Gideon stuffed the money into his pocket. “All right. Right now?” he asked, uncertainly.

“Well, we’ll have to check what’s playing and at what times first,” said Henry. “I could show you around town, and we could do that, if you like. I mean, you must have seen something of the place, poofing around, but you haven’t had a proper tour. I could introduce you to people, too. He looked Gideon up and down critically. “Do you want to go home and change first?”

“Change what?”

“Into something more comfortable.”

“This is comfortable.” Gideon looked down at his new black suit, liking the way it looked on him, the way it made him feel closer to his father. He’d spent the last few days spending mornings with his mother in the library, helping out and reading voraciously about the history and customs of this world and afternoons with his father in the shop, slowly getting acquainted and forging a relationship. “Is there something wrong with it?”

“No, of course not,” both Belle and Rumpelstiltskin assured him at nearly the same time.

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” Henry agreed, “But most people don’t wear three piece suits outside of work hours. They come home and change into something more casual.” He glanced at Gold. “Your dad’s an exception. But maybe you haven’t had time to go shopping yet?”

“Henry has a point,” Rumpelstiltskin admitted. “I spent 28 years wearing a suit thanks to the original curse that created Storybrooke and my Mr. Gold persona. It’s what I’m used to, here in this land. I feel strange wearing anything else. But -- the curse was designed to isolate me, to set me apart from everyone else. The expensive suits reminded everyone else that I was richer than they were, that I was someone to be feared. People might find you less threatening if they saw you in more casual clothes when you’re not working. You don’t have to wear anything you don’t want to, of course -- but why don’t you try out some of the things that Henry suggests? Jeans, t-shirts, sweaters -- whatever you find comfortable, go ahead and buy it. You can use the credit card I gave you for larger purchases like that.”

“Okay, we’ll head down to the movie theatre first, see what’s playing,” Henry decided. “And then we’ll go shopping, get you some basic stuff. Sound good?”

Gideon looked rather helplessly at his parents.

“That’s a good idea,” Belle said encouragingly. “Everybody likes Henry; you’ll be in safe hands.”

“I...all right.” Left to himself, Gideon knew he’d rather stay holed up in the house, or in the quiet shop, or in a corner of the library reading, but he supposed he would have to face the townspeople sooner or later. Best to get it over with, when he had a friendly guide with him.

“Great! We can stop for ice cream after that. And popcorn! Have you ever had popcorn? If we go to the movies we’ll get some popcorn; you’ll like it.” Henry turned away and started walking even as he was still speaking.

With one last glance over his shoulder at his parents, Gideon hurried after.

In the weeks that followed, it became apparent that Henry had made acclimatising Gideon to Storybrooke his own personal mission.

“He probably has a name for it,” Belle observed, rinsing off the last of the supper dishes and passing it to Rumpel to dry. There had been no question about her not moving back into the salmon house with Gideon’s return. They had missed 28 years of their son’s life, 28 years of being a family. She didn’t want to miss a single second more, nor would she have asked it of Rumpel by making Gideon choose only one parent to live with. This was her home; this was their home. They belonged together.

“Operation: Uncle,” Rumpelstiltskin suggested with a grin. Gideon had come home from his first day out with Henry with a modest collection of casual clothing that Belle had had to be dissuaded from making him try on then and there to model for her.

“Operation: Giraffe,” countered Belle, thinking of their son’s height.

Rumpelstiltskin shook his head with an amused smile. “I will never be able to understand how he ended up that tall with us for parents.”

“They say physical traits can skip a generation,” said Belle. “He must get it from my father.”

Belle felt a pang for all the years they had never had, watching Gideon grow from a baby to a toddler, and then a sturdy child heading off to school. Had he been tall for his age early on, or had he shot up all at once as a teenager? She’d have to ask him; it seemed important to know, along with so many other myriad details. But asking things like what were his favourite foods as a child was fraught with the possibility of the answer being that he hadn’t had a choice in the matter; he’d eaten what he had been provided with. She forced her mind away from that channel of thought back to Henry, and how Gideon already seemed to relax and become more open whenever he was around Henry -- they’d already had one movie night at home, and Belle smiled at the memory of Henry enthusiastically explaining everything in the movies to Gideon. It had been a good night, full of laughter and the warmth of being surrounded by family.

“I think Henry has needed someone like Gideon as much as Gideon needs someone like Henry,” she observed, thinking about it.

“You mean a father figure?” Rumpelstiltskin hazarded doubtfully. Despite being older, Gideon was in many ways more immature than Henry, thanks to his sheltered upbringing in the Dark Realm.

“That’s part of it, maybe, but more...a link to his father?” suggested Belle.

Rumpelstiltskin nodded, feeling slightly guilty. He’d kept his distance from Henry for a variety of reasons -- first there had been the prophecy about a boy who would be his undoing, and then it had been out of a feeling that Henry would be safer if he wasn’t seen as someone who could be used as a way to hurt the Dark One. Although considering the other side of Henry’s family had seen no problem in taking him down to the Underworld with them, perhaps he shouldn’t leave Henry’s welfare entirely in their hands. For all that Henry was mature for his age, he was still a child and needed to be protected, not dragged along on every adventure. And then, for a while, he had simply been gone. Dead, for all intents and purposes, the Dark One’s essence trapped in the vault in the Enchanted Forest. And after that, enslaved by Zelena for a year. But now -- now he vowed that he would be more a part of his grandson’s life.

“I’m glad he’s hit it off with Gideon,” he said. “If there’s one thing Henry likes, it’s helping people.” He thought of Henry showing up earlier with an invitation to another movie night, this one at Emma’s house. Gideon had been obviously reticent, but Henry had refused to take no for an answer.

“I get that it’ll be awkward at first, but you can’t avoid each other forever,” he had insisted. “She knows you were being controlled, and she’s willing to put it in the past. She wouldn’t have allowed me to invite you if she wasn’t.”

“Do the brave thing,” Belle had encouraged.

Gideon had shot her a withering look. “Thanks, Mother. It’s not you who’s been invited to have dinner with someone you tried to kill.”

“It’ll be okay,” Henry persisted, and Gideon had taken a deep breath and given in, grabbing his jacket and pulling it on over the off-white button-down shirt he was wearing along with a pair of jeans and boots.

“All right, Nephew, but this had better be worth it.”

The last dish done, Belle drained the water from the sink and dried her hands. “Shall we have a movie night of our own tonight?”

“Anything you like, sweetheart.”

They settled on the couch, Belle kicking her shoes off and curling her feet up beneath her as she picked up the remote control and flipped through the channels, looking for something good to watch. She stopped on a show where a baby was pulling itself up by the bars of its crib, making happy babbling noises until its mother came over, smiling, and leaned down to pick the baby up, kissing its forehead. Belle’s heart clenched at the sight, a sharp, fierce ache that made her want to cry. She could have had that, but she had thrown it away. She spoke before she even realised what she was saying.

“I want a baby.”

“What?” Gold half-turned to face her, although he had heard her perfectly well.

“I want a baby, Rumpel. Not right away, Gideon needs us now, and I don’t want him thinking that we don’t love him just as he is. But maybe in a year or so -- do you think we could try again? To have a baby to raise and to love, and to do it right this time? Together?”

Rumpelstiltskin swallowed hard, and raised a shaking hand to cup Belle’s face. She was asking about more than a baby, she was confirming that she wanted a life with him, and a proper marriage. He nodded, a tremulous smile appearing on his face. “I can’t think of anything that I’d like more.” He leaned forward, and Belle met him, their lips meeting as they kissed. Her hand came up to cup the back of his head, her fingers sliding into his hair, and she pulled back with a huff of laughter after a moment, trying to tug on the short strands.

“There’s nothing left for me to grab onto,” she complained. “You are letting it grow out again, aren’t you?” It was already a little longer than it had been, just brushing the top of his collar, but still too short for her preference.

“Do you want me to?” he teased, threading his own fingers into her long hair.

“Yes, please,” she said meekly, her dimples appearing. “You know I always liked burying my hands in your hair.”

“As you wish,” he promised with a grin. “I shall put it on my to-do list.” He claimed another kiss, and Belle smiled at him brightly when he pulled back, before shifting and wriggling back so that she could lean back against him as she faced the TV again. Carefully, he put an arm around her, and relaxed when she covered his hand with her, keeping his pressed firmly in place.

Belle murmured in contentment as she felt Rumpelstiltskin press a kiss to the top of her head, returning her attention to the television program. The mother was settling the baby into a high chair at the kitchen table, where it promptly began banging happily on the tray. Belle smiled wistfully, but it was now a scene she could look forward to one day, instead of only something that she had recklessly thrown away. She would not make the same mistake twice. If they had another child, she would hold onto it as fiercely as she should have held onto Gideon. As if on cue, the door to the kitchen on screen banged open and a little boy came charging into the kitchen, closely followed by what was obviously the children’s father, who greeted his wife and baby with a kiss. The little boy climbed up onto a chair and began making faces at the baby, making it laugh in delight.

“Do you think Gideon would like being a big brother?” Belle asked.

Rumpel’s arm tightened around her. “I think Gideon has a lot of guilt over not being able to protect the other children in the mines with him. So yes, I think he would be a wonderful big brother. Quite possible overprotective, but I can’t see that as a bad thing.”

“Not around here, no,” Belle agreed, trying to envision a scene in her head, Gideon playing with a baby, a small toddler lovingly following him around. In her mind’s eye, Gideon was smiling and happy, knowing he was loved, that he had a family. “Do you think he’s having a good time at Emma’s?”

“Well, if not, he’s perfectly capable of leaving, so I’m hoping things are going okay at least.”

“It’d be nice to have a little girl,” Belle mused. “To balance things out.”

“It would,” Rumpelstiltskin agreed, his own mind filling with sudden images. “It’s been a while since a girl’s been born into this family. About time for a change.”

A change sounded good, Belle thought, a change for the better. They would learn from the past and move on, not forgetting it but not dwelling on it. They would find the way forward.

#a-monthly-rumbelling #ficwoodelf #rumbelle fic #rumbelle #gideon gold #gideon fic #the way forward

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reesebird · 5 years

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New Post has been published on https://reesebird.com/2019/02/19/are-you-raising-a-connected-or-a-clingy-child/

Are You Raising a Connected or a Clingy Child

If I had to pick one key article that represents the concepts I teach, this one would be it. It represents the primary foundation of all of my parenting principles in raising the kind of child who will very likely go on to find his or her purpose in life, on schedule, and change the world. It deals with a problem that many parents experience that may be a symptom of a deer rooted problem from the child's first few years of life.

Clinginess of toddlers and preschoolers is a common problem that can be added to the list of challenging behaviors. Sometimes, it's even school-age children who are clingy and they just will not leave the mother alone. It can make her feel suffocated and annoyed and before you know it, she's snapping at her child and feeling bad about the relationship. It then gets worse because the child can feel her frustration and the child gets evenly frustrated, wanting to connect with the mother even more.

What's Going On in the Brain According to experts such as pediatrician Dr. William Sears, the first 12 months of a baby's life is the most critical time for the development of the brain. It lays a foundation for how that child will view his or her world as he or she develops and grows. That foundation will also determine what kind of relationships the child will develop as the child matures. Although many authors and psychologists will tell you they do, infants do not require discipline in the first 12 – 18 months, they simply need to be care for and have their needs met. During this first 12 month period, brain cells, known as neurons, are forming what constitutes the "wiring" for the baby to organize and store information. The more the baby's needs are met swiftly, the more complete his wiring becoming.

Herein Lies the Problem Psychologists tell us about something that occurs in the first year of life called object permanence; If an object a baby is looking at is suddenly hidden from sight, the baby thinks it is permanently gone. Have you ever played peek-a-boo with a baby? When you first hide your face, he appears to be concerned and started, but when you reveal your face again, he smiles or giggles. The same thing happens with people. If a baby's mother disappears for hours at a time, the baby believes that she's permanently gone and the baby may begin to feel anxious and fear that their caregiver and nurturer is really gone. This affects the development of the "wiring" of the baby's brain and can lead to a greater sense of disconnection as she develops. The result may be her inability to trust, turning her into a clingy child during the toddler and preschool years, and even affecting the quality of trust, empathy, intimacy and a sense of self later in her adult life.

Raising a Connected Child One big step in helping your child to become more connected is to avoid putting her in overwhelming situations where both of you will fail. One example is the grocery or department store, an example of fitting the child into our life rather than adjusting our life for our child. She does not understand having to pay for things that are sitting right there on the shelf and the shopping experience gets worse if she is hungry or over tired. You end up yelling at her because of her uncooperative behavior. This destroys the parent-child relationship, contributing to disconnection in the child. Here are a few other tips for raising a connected child:

• Allow healthy physical and emotional attachment to occur during the first 12 months • Touching, holding, and regular physical contact is critical to the connected child's growth • Take the time to set up boundaries and limits in advance • Establish structure at home with gates and baby-proofing devices • Change your home / life to fit the toddler, not force the toddler to fit your home / life • Let them be frustrated and work out their own challenges (help at times but do not rescue)

Children Who Are Connected In his book The Successful Child (2002, Little Brown & Co), Dr. William Sears asks us to imagine a group of teens at a party who started to pair off and start "making out." One particular "connected" teen whose parents have taught her to respect her feelings by responding to them appropriately over the span of her childhood, suddenly feels pressured into a sexual situation that she's not ready for and feels confused and scared. Forced to choose between the peer pressure of the moment and trusting her own feelings, she stops the encounter and calls her parents for a ride home. Do not you hope that your teen will make the same choice on her own? If you answered yes, than ask yourself if you're doing today what is required to raise a connected child. Here are few other examples of how a connected child behaves. She …

• Is less likely to experience a fear of strangers • behaves more cooperatively for the parent • accepts being left off at preschool without a meltdown • explores more freely and with bravery • is likely to be open to new objects and experiences • is more likely to internalize the wisdom, guidance, and modeling of the parents • has a stronger development of her emotional intelligence • is able to interpret the emotions of others and can detect the "red flags" • possesses a stronger sense of what is right and what is wrong • has the capacity to trust and care about trustworthy adults

Are You a Connected Parent? If you had any uneasy feelings while reading the paragraphs above or are still frustrated over what it takes to raise a connected child, then sometimes you need some reconnection for yourself. To raise a connected child requires creating some internal balance and peacefulness. Accept the fact that life is not winning the "rat race" that we find ourselves in. Life is about finding more peace and calmness inside of us to better enjoy the limited time we have with our children. Consider slowing down our pace a bit and finding time to take better care of yourself through classes and workshops. Your children do not care how much money you make, they want instead to simply know that you are there and how much you care for them. Caring for others starts with caring for yourself.

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chuckdraug · 7 years

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“Don’t complain, it’s just a game”

This is a translation - and at some extent rewording - of a post on my Spanish blog that I finally decided to post here as well.

WARNING: Before you start reading the actual post, please follow the links down here since these posts where the ones that made me write mine, and because context is important:

«What We Talk About, When We Don't Talk About Natives», by Dia Lacina (English)

«Resulta que Horizon Zero Dawn también es ofensivo», by Juan Tejerina (Spanish), though Google-translated here

Hope you are ready now.

---

Yes, this very post here comes from an opinion article published on the Games Tribune Magazine web (I'll just name GTM as the platform where it was posted in due respect to their ethical code, despite this being their vicedirector's opinion) as a reply to an article regarding cultural appropriation and native Americans on fiction due to the PS4's latest hit, "Horizon Zero Dawn".

I didn't want to talk about this. In fact, for some days... well, no, hours I didn't say a thing on Twitter aside from replying to some people. But everyone has a limit to their patience, and so I hit mines and wanted to come to my egocentric Internet corner and say what I want to say.

I'm not going to talk about cultural appropriation nor about colonialism nor about how "HZD" borrows from native Amercians, celtics, vikings, ainus or whatever. I haven't played the game and I'm an ignorant on those topics, so I better not say a thing about it. I want to talk of what I know, of something I could be blamed for in the past - and maybe at times in the present day -, and that is clear on the GTM post: whenever someone complains, critics or just expresses themselves regarding a social topic on fiction and/or real life we just say they overreact.

There's one big trouble when we just tell people they overreact whenever they have something to say in those matters, or if their opinion just differs from ours. We say they get offended so easily.

So in this particular case, Dia Lacina points out her problems about topics she knows about on a game that's actually getting a pretty good reception and its protagonist, Aloy, is seen as a good example of female protagonist. A huge step, specially when you see a lot of women talking about their experience with Aloy, what they feel with her. Representation matters, as they always say.

But... No work is perfect, and the fact we advance in some social topics doesn't mean everything is done, as there's a lot to do yet. Lacina's post not only talks about the problems she sees on "HZD" when it comes to racial and cultural matters, but on how native Americans are often portrayed on fictional works. This doesn't mean Aloy being an empowered female protagonist is of no avail, it only points out that even if we get things right in some parts, others still need more work, there's a big picture and we have only retouched a speck on it.

What happens then? Tejerina's reply is nothing but a new evidence of what we usually do: we label these critics, complains and even just opinions and points of view as suspicious, as exaggerated, as weird and out of place. The general feeling I get from his words is the classic white cishet male speech of everyone else is overreacting, that they whine with no reason and are complaining and taking the fun away. You know, their usual speech of deeming others as haters, as Social Justice Warriors (SJWs) or as supporters of a politically correct dictatorship.

But am I going to sum his text up as just "you complain about everything"? Sure not, but that point is still there and I'm not going to ignore it. Though truly, it goes beyond that.

It goes beyond when he compares Lacina's post with the reaction of the Spanish media with the "katana murderer" case many years ago, and how they related the murderer to "Final Fantasy VIII" and its main character, Squall Lionheart, to the point of claiming that such murderer got his looks from Squall - he was just a regular Spanish guy, not some Squall impersonator.

To make it clear, Tejerina is comparing Lacina's point of view to that of media wanting first pages and their minutes of fame around a murder. Yes, he's doing that: he's comparing the vultures of the Spanish media to a native American's point of view regarding a videogame.

Yes, we can go this low.

So Lacina posted her criticism on the Internet. She made it public, she wanted to show it. Oh geez! She's expressing herself and you come here and accuse her of looking for her five minutes of fame.

Oh, but it doesn't end here. But first, some context.

Recently in Spain, the Catholic organization "Hazte Oír" sponsored a bus where you could clearly read "Boys have penises, girls have vulvas" in a "deal with it" tone, claiming it was biological evidence even though biologists everywhere called that bullshit. "Hazte Oír" is a bunch of people who repeatedly show how sexist, homophobic, transphobic and many-other-things they are.

Well, what does it have to with these posts? At the end of his, Tejerina pointed out that what Lacina wrote isn't important, and so isn't any social opinion on matters like sexism or transphobia.

He considers this kind of opinions responsible for dividing the gaming community to the point we look at each other as enemies - say what?! really?! That and the fact those opinions don’t focus on “the real enemy” he points out: the right-wing bastards who are ruining our lives, and the religious indoctrination many of us have gone through since we were toddlers.

So in Tejerina's opinion, you talking about sexism or cultural appropriation isn't that important compared to ditching Trump, Rajoy and the Catholic Church. Because you can't talk about both things, you either complain on one or another. So yes, the feeling you get with the final paragraphs of his text is that you wanting to be treated as the human being you are isn’t as valuable as talking about other problems.

It's clear, right? We, the white cishet males - though some would argue about me being white because I'm a Spaniard - have no problems at all, and every time a woman, a PoC or LGBT person gives their point of view, we feel uneasy, to say the least. We, the privileged ones, look down at them and ditch them for making us feel uncomfortable, how dare they do that?!

And when we feel uncomfortable, uneasy, instead of listening to them, on analyzing ourselves and the world we live in, we say that they are whiners and haters complaining on everything. We call them SJWs, we call them feminazis, we call them lots of names. We say they only want some Internet fame. We tell them to shut up.

And if you had a bad experience with a feminist or PoC or whatever, you quickly label all of them as people you cannot reason with, but the very moment we are called for something due to the injustice in the current status quo, we are eager to yell NOT ALL MEN.

Don't you see it? We say they whine, when we are the ones actually whining. And why? Because for us, it's easier and makes us comfortable.

It's easier if we claim we live in a politically correct dictatorship instead of looking at yourself and seeing what's wrong with you. Why? We are Always Right™, how can we be wrong?!

It's easier when you say "it's only a game" without thinking on why someone else feels uneasy. We can separate facts from fiction, but those works of fiction can be analyzed, specially when looking at real life. They have their context.

(I'd like to point out here that Tejerina himself told me that with that paragraph I was actually supporting his views because "if we kept thinking of what might upset someone, if we over-analyzed everything, we wouldn't create anything"... it's true that we won't please everyone, it's impossible, but it is his - and many others’ - way to get the focus on something else so he - and anyone else - won’t feel guilty. If we show our works, people can give their opinions on them, and that includes any social views. And that kind of feedback is actually important, not just for our works, but for us as social people.)

It's easier if we think that these people want to take the fun away from us, even though they claim that you can enjoy something despite its problems - it's OK while you acknowledge those problems. We say that they hate our hobbies instead of listening to them and looking at these problems and thinking why they are... well, problems.

It's easier if we say "I'm not like that, don't you dare blame me for that" because the fact that our society isn’t fair is proof enough of how right they are. We might think we are the "nice guys", but no one is a saint, you know the current situation benefits you and you only, and you don't want to share it. Also, these changes won't be immediate, they need a lot of time, yet we complain at the slightest evidence.

I'm sure you've heard and read this from people who are way smarter than I am. Still, I wanted to say it as well.

Because I'm tired of this shit.

Because minorities and the oppressed express themselves - freedom of speech, remember? -, yet instead of listening to them we try to shut them up, we want to turn their opinions and criticism into babycries. We tell them they criticize everything - "you see sexism everywhere!" is the first claim that comes to my mind.

We, the privileged, don't wanna accept their points of view, because by doing so we will see how wrong we are, how society made us this way, how it has spoiled us in believing we are special snowflakes that should step on those who are different from us, calling them weak and despicable and not fit to live like us.

This is hatred mixed with fear to them. We fear that we are wrong, that we aren't the kings of the hill anymore, that we aren't those nice guys and snowflakes society told us we were. There is no perfect being since we ALL are humans.

We are scared of reality and of being stupid, so instead of listening and reviewing our very acts and behavior... we protect our egos, our pride, and we ditch those who are different, we blame them for our insecurity, we hate them. And in the process, we demonstrate that we are stupid. And full of hate.

It's frightening. It's embarrassing. It's horrible.

It isn't just about fiction. It is about the reality we live in. It is about us hating on those who aren't like us, on stripping them of their humanity, because it is easier if you treat a woman/PoC/LGBT as less than human beings. Who cares how others feel if I can feel OK with myself? Who cares if the only way to be in harmony is by making other people feel miserable and inferior to me?

No one wants to be told that they're doing wrong. But surprise! We will fail a lot of times - and I'm pretty sure this post of mine is full of mistakes. Even if it upsets us, wake up and smell the ashes: perfection does not exist. No one says this is easy.

We, the privileged, instead of whining, should sit down, listen to other people and learn from them. And even shut up, because we think we are the protagonists, but no, at best we are support characters in this fight.

But what if you don't wanna do it? You're free to choose your destiny. Just deal with the consequences of your choice, no option is free of them. I can go and support these people and I know there will be other people out there saying that I've been brainwashed or that I'm a white knight or whatever. I know and I have to deal with that.

And I’m glad of my choice.

Truly, if it weren't for the whole Gamergate shitstorm, I'd be one of those people who would never, ever, get to think of what they are doing and how it affects others. I would be one of those saying that "it's just a game". I'm happy I'm not one of them. At least, most of the time.

#videogames #opinion #works of fiction #social #snowflakes #white cishet males ruin everything

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