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aphrodite-would-be-proud · 3 years

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Anon said: I hope I'm not too late to slip in a request! I was actually hoping for a more platonic request with Miche? Just how he would help out a new cadet on his squad or something... Maybe there having a hard time fitting in now that there on a section commander squad or even worried about an upcoming expedition. Miche is one of my biggest comfort Characters and I'm such a shy person lol...I love you blog by the way, it's such a comforting place...🥺

Miche reassuring you that you're enough.

{Miche & reader | tw:none | platonic, comfort | canonverse}

{ "The Interior of the Palm House on the Pfaueninsel Near Potsdam" 1834 by Carl Blechen 1798 - 1840 }

No one can deny that the survey corps had a...certain reputation between the people, for being ruthless, unhinged and not a place for someone hoping for a future.

Their leader is known for gambling with human lives, their strongest has a criminal history record and their most intelligent, does experiments that would put medical student dropout Frankenstein himself to shame.

In short, you'd be crazy for walking there with your own two feet and expecting a crumb of compassion.

You don't go looking for fish in the desert.

You've heard it all, those sayings people keep reciting like a broken record whenever you'd bring up joining the survey corps.

"You'll just end up titan food"

"Why do you want to throw away your life?"

"God your poor family…"

And despite all of that, you still marched on, despite everyone who told you to quit.

Not only did you join and stayed alive for so long, you've even managed to climb the ranks in record time.

So fast in fact that you were assigned to join a section commander's squad after a very successful titan capture mission that earned you a pat on the back from Erwin.

Being pulled from your friends and moved to a new place where you were surrounded by veterans who've been in their positions for 10 years or more, was quite sudden and shocking.

One thing that should've eased your nerves, was the fact it was squad Miche you're being put into.

Anyone in the survey corps can tell you that in comparison to other squads, this was the most...friendly per say, since they prioritised teamwork and coming back alive over everything else, knowing together they're much stronger and willing to protect each other no matter what.

While yes they did have their quirks, it was almost nothing in comparison to Levi's strict hygiene rules and Hange's workaholic routine or Erwin's unreadable intentions.

And yet, you felt unease at the whole situation.

You were clearly "that new cadet" in this old group of close-knit people, almost standing out even.

You wanted to prove yourself, you've done it before to all those people so why is it any different now.

Maybe...because they are actually experienced soldiers this time, and not strangers living in blissful ignorance inside the walls.

Maybe because you feel the growing burden of expectations set on you for being the newest person in the squad, and being put there by none other than the commander himself which would raise some eyebrows if you couldn't deliver.

Uncertainty and doubt began pooling up inside your mind, making you second guess decisions and overthink actions.

And it's not like the squad members were leaving you out, no in fact they were doing their best to include you.

….maybe even too much actually, it didn't help that all of them were outgoing people, it was overwhelming.

Nanaba was an unofficial stand in caption when Miche wasn't around. Having a confident yet compassionate personality made her protective of her teammates, almost like a big sister, earning her a lot of respect.

So much in fact that it would unintentionally intimidate people out of approaching her

Gelgar was a strong believer in Miche, loyal to a fault almost. Yet he wouldn't say no for a chance to relax and grab a couple drinks, being friends with so many people came naturally to him with his mellow personality and overall friendliness.

Maybe a bit much too friendly? That personal boundaries were often crossed without him realising it.

Lynne was a good balance between the two, she was considerate of others feelings...even so much in fact that she tended to sugar-coat almost everything.

Thomas and Henning were close with each other, both serious and determined. But maybe because they were so used to each other that dealing with new people became...strange, for conversations with them resembled an awkward dad attempting to check on you but not actually putting much effort to understand.

Meanwhile, you were a reserved and shy person.

It was a miracle that you managed to get a group of friends in cadet training that stayed with you throughout the years, but now after being transferred it was all turned to dust.

You have to start again, meet people again and talk to them while wondering if they actually like you or are pretending to be nice because they don't wanna come off as rude-

On top of that, Erwin seemed to keep an eye on you after your last mission, silently conveying the trust and expectations he's putting your way, to not fail him and show you're worthy of this special treatment.

It was too much, too overwhelming and draining.

Dread and uncertainty loomed in the corners of your mind, only metastating in size as the date for the new expedition was announced.

To add fuel to the fire, apparently everyone seemed almost...excited or nonchalant for going out there again, like this is a mere walk in the park as they began making preparations and training.

Were you the only one that felt nervous? Oh god.

Your legs felt like they were weighted down by stones as you stared at the large board in front of you, a white sheet signed by the commander announcing next week to be the date of the expedition, several names listed below for who'd be required for service.

Your name was at the top, even with a line underneath it. The fact it was in cursive didn't make it any less gut-wrenching.

The chatter of people around you, discussing the plans and joking with each other, began blurring out at the back of your mind.

The weather seemed colder as shivers ran down your neck. A rolling feeling in your stomach making your throat tighten, your own voice inside your head was the only noise you could hear.

All those thoughts and worries creeping from underneath the dark corners that you've been pushing them into all this time, like a swarm drowning you in their "what if" and skepticism, full of doubt and illogical pessimism for worst case scenarios.

Thoughts that aren't even your own joined them, ones you never had and knew weren't true and yet amidst the storm it was hard to tell the real from the ones passing through.

You know you're capable, so why…

Are you capable?

Yes…

but are you really?

...

And how are you even sure?

Before it could pull you deeper into that hole of despair, something snapped your attention back to reality, a hand nudging your shoulder.

"You really didn't hear me huh." The voice came from behind you, a tall figure stepping closer till you were in his shadow.

Miche looked at you with a tilted head, his lips pressed into a thin line as his eyes bore into you like he's attempting to guess what's going inside your brain.

You've been too lost inside your mind you didn't notice that you were the only one left standing in front of the board.

From the way Miche's shoulders fell after reading your expression, eyes softening after glancing at your name on the sheet, he was quick to catch on.

Before you could say something to save your face after being caught in this state by none other than your new captain, Miche just told you to come with him, making sure to walk beside you، protectively staying close that no one on your way would interrupt.

Passing the corridor leading to his office, you gave him an uncertain glance as he simply gestured for you to continue walking for whatever unknown place you're headed to.

Soon enough the buildings and stone streets faded the further you went on, grass and dirt roads taking its place.

It wasn't a long walk per say, but more of a secluded area that took both of you some turns in seemingly shady alleyways to reach.

You couldn't hear the horses or soldiers walking anymore, only the soft flowing of the nearby river.

The tall grass barely reaching below your knees, some ladybugs crawling on top of the scattered daffodils in-between, the closer to the river cliff you got the taller it became.

The first thing Miche did, wasn't explaining to you why you're here, or what exactly he was after.

No, he barely said a word even, only taking in a deep breath as the wind had the courtesy of pushing his bangs back, eyes finally in clear view now.

Gaze meeting yours, he gave you a nod, a gesture to do the same thing.

You reluctantly took a deep breath.

He smiled.

Both of you sat by the river, he gave you his jacket to sit on.

As the silence grew between you, even while it wasn't the uncomfortable kind, it was clear he was struggling to phrase something, the right words just not coming to mind.

Turning his body towards you, he finally said, "how about i just..listen, let it out.".

It wasn't easy, you can't just pour out your heart to your superior.

Not to mention the military wasn't a place for weakness, could you really openly admit to your worries?

Well, yes you could, because it isn't weak, it takes great strength to face something scary and admit to it.

It's strength that got you this far.

How could you ever mistake vulnerability for weakness?

Keeping true to his words, Miche didn't interrupt you as you slowly opened up about what's been troubling you.

He patiently listened, occasionally humming for you to go on whenever you'd lose track.

And by the end of it, after you poured out all your frustration, sadness and worries, it felt...like a weight lifted off your shoulders.

Miche looked at you with understanding in his eyes, as if he himself has been in this exact same position years ago.

...and maybe he was, considering his behaviour wasn't what's socially common, he would've definitely stood out back before he had the respect of being a captain.

He isn't a man of words, for actions spoke much louder.

That's why he became more attentive from that day on, offering to help you train, giving you a smile whenever you passed by and sitting near you whenever his squad were gathered so he'd ask for your opinion on plans or simply share looks whenever they began joking with each other.

He didn't attempt to make you change, instead he made changes to accommodate you.

You're part of the team and he made it clear.

And while he couldn't give reassuring words, he certainly gave his time and energy, paying attention to you, reading your moods and listening whenever life becomes too much.

Maybe he saw his past self in you, and wanted to give you all the comfort, attention and care he wished for back then.

Even if it was mere hugs and shoulder pats that he could offer, he knew small things can make changes overtime.

For him, it's not getting rid of your stress that he was attempting to achieve, no, for life is full of stress.

Instead, he wanted to offer you ways to deal with the stress, to acknowledge it as it is and be heard, to be understood.

Because while stress will pass either way, it didn't mean it had to pass painfully.

You weren't alone, he made sure of that.

Maybe he got too attached, maybe someone might say he's giving you special treatment, maybe Erwin would give him a backhanded comment every now and then.

But since when did Miche pay attention to these things?

Well...he can't deny he might be giving you more break days than the other Cadets, larger food portions and even most of his time.

But he won't justify himself to anyone either, he doesn't have to.

Because after all, there really isn't any ulterior motives behind his actions, they were as simple as they came.

It was pure genuine care, the type that makes someone want to protect a person and watch them grow healthy.

The type that made him offer you a thumbs up after each training session, a proud smile on his face for how much you're learning.

Maybe some slight teasing about how if you keep this up, you might even replace him as the second strongest one day.

And while he said it with a joking tone, the hopeful pride-filled look on his face told a whole nother story.

you're not sure if it was a joke or a promise.

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yellowocaballero · 3 years

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hi i know it's been the hottest of seconds but director's cut for the prophetic spring if you're still doing these? 👀

Sure! I’ve spoken a lot about the prophetic spring, but I’m fairly certain I could give some meta information about my intense life-long obsession with Tim Drake. Dude has been showing up in my fics since I was 14.

But actually, the ficlet I wrote ages ago might be more interesting? So here it is. Exploring a dynamic that was WAY underserved for how important it is: the Steph, Cass, Tim dynamic!

No CW that haven’t appeared in the prophetic spring, but specific mention for drug addiction and drug depiction, as well as references to molestation, abortion, torture, and suicide. Story under the cut.

Tim stared down into the toilet bowl. It was a little yellowed. He needed to clean it.

He stared at the small baggie of pills in his hand.

He visualized dropping it into the bowl, flushing it. Possibly mutating an alligator, or giving the race of mole people that lived in the Gotham sewers a nice surprise.

Tim sighed, and pocketed the drugs. Maybe tomorrow.

A month after the incident with a runaway foster kid and a, in retrospect, kind of embarrassing fake fight with his older brother, Tim got a text from an unknown number. To make matters worse, it was at an insane hour of the day - noon.

Texts from strangers were hardly uncommon. Tim had an extensive contact network, growing larger by the day, but he had set up a Google Voice on his computer so they were all routed through a program there. Being bothered at all hours of the day on his phone was hardly his idea of a good time. The only people who really had his real number were his bullshit ‘friends’ and his asshole ‘family’. He hadn’t even given his number to his ‘friends’ - he had given it to Kon under strict confidentiality, and then Kon had given it to all of Young Justice. Asshole.

405-555-1998: dropping by in three hours so make sure ur presentable :)

As Tim had just woken up, most of his brain was occupied by a single whuh?

Just as his mind swirled in sleepy confusion, his phone buzzed again.

405-555-1998: B1706XQE45

The code checked out. It was an ally, not an unknown or an enemy.

Tim groaned, covering his eyes with an elbow. He needed coffee.

****

The coffee was a new thing - rather, it was something he had drunk plenty of growing up, because there had been nobody around to inform him that coffee was bad for developing brains. Growing up completely unsupervised was probably why Tim was a drug addict now. He could totally blame this on his parents never loving him.

Not a drug addict, Tim thought to himself anxiously as the coffee sputtered into the extra large gallon pot. Just someone who...uses drugs...in an unhealthy way. Substance abu - substance user, who just used it maybe as a bad coping mechanism. Not that Tim had good coping mechanisms, but it was better than sawing off heads or becoming a drug lord. When you thought about it, it was either being a serial killer or doing drugs, so logically it means that he should do more drugs to decrease the amount of fun little murders he does -

Tim made toast.

The coffee was a new thing, because he was trying to use it to replace the drugs. He had cut back. The stupid little sorority that called themselves the Birds of Prey had been talking to him about it. He had agreed to try. It was best to set expectations low, so he couldn’t disappoint. Actually, Tim loved disappointing, maybe he should set them higher. Maybe he could make inspirational speeches about how he was a good guy now? Ha ha.

The three hours had been a deft move. The texter knew noon was his average wake-up time at best, and the three hours gave him enough time to sober up if he had been high or drunk at the time. Tim didn’t like to start popping the minute he woke up, but - well, sometimes he did. Or sometimes he was awake at noon because he had been on an all-nighter drug binge. They hadn’t given their name, either, which meant that it was somebody who he wouldn’t want to see.

He could bounce, escape to some corner of Gotham until they gave up. Except he had the sense that whoever had gone through the effort to get his number wasn’t the type to give up. Almost nobody Tim knew was the type to give up. His ‘friends’ and his ‘family’ never gave up. On anybody but him.

A voice in his head, not quite yet suffocated, sounding altogether too much like the Replacement, echoed in endless attempts to get him to come back. Oh, whatever. Kid was a try-hard. He needed better taste in made up families.

Over the next three hours, he debated his tactics. If he wasn’t escaping and the texter was playing the buddy card, then the situation probably wasn’t dangerous. He strapped in his armor under the baggy pyjamas that he never took off anyway, and spitefully made no effort to control his hair. He did put on make-up, an old hand from keeping CPS off Bruce’s trail - man, he should have pretended Bruce was molesting him, that would have been funny as fuck - to hide the bags under his eyes. No use looking pathetic.

He hid a few more weapons around his apartment. He anxiously checked his phone, staring not at the new texts but at Harley’s offer sent a week ago. He still hadn’t replied. He didn’t know what to do with it.

As if he could ever feel safe sleeping under the same roof as her?

As if he ever felt safe anywhere?

Maybe he had nothing to lose. That was the greatest part about this, the most wonderful aspect of what he had done to everybody in his life. When you have nothing, you have nothing to lose. That’s freedom, or so Janis had always told him. She knew what she was about. Overdosing on heroin at 27 - that was understanding what it meant, to have nothing. To be free. He was almost jealous.

At two on the dot, a polite knock echoed through the apartment. Tim looked up from where he was relaxing on the couch, with all of the possible entry points in his line of sight. That wasn’t a knock he had memorized, and he had memorized everyone’s knocks.

Nothing for it. He’d have to get rid of them as quickly as possible. Maybe he can pull the insane sociopath schtick again; that had always been effective in ditching his parents. Tim sighed, walked over to the door, swiped his thumb against the keypad, undid the three deadbolts, and opened door only to see -

Stephanie Brown, hands propped on her hips and smiling widely. Cassandra Wayne, standing right behind her, serene as ever.

Tim closed the door - or he tried. Steph had expected the move, and the minute he had opened the door her foot had jutted out and blocked him from closing the door. Effortlessly, she wrenched it back open and stepped into his apartment, forcing him to press against the wall and scowl as insane women infiltrated his space.

“Wow,” Steph said loudly, “this place looks like a wreck!”

Tim groaned.

***

The thing with Steph and Cass was this:

How to describe it?

The sister he had never expected, the best friend he had never thought he would have. Cass was his twin, Robin’s shadow, the other side of his mountain. Bruce had adopted Cass barely five months after he became Robin, and Tim had unabashedly resented her for stealing Bruce’s attention so quickly. He had always liked her more, but Bruce had liked everyone more than Tim, so maybe it was no surprise. She was sweet, kind, gentle, and no trouble. Tim wasn’t any trouble either, but he couldn’t be the rest of it if it bit him in his ass.

Robin was the brain. Cass was the muscle. They were a team so closely linked, conjoined at the hip, that Tim couldn’t remember a patrol ever done without her. Bruce had let them start patrolling alone at fourteen (“You didn’t let me work alone until I was fifteen, and I was an assassin,” Damian had spat), and they had been an unbeatable team. Robin’s hand-to-hand was weak, but nobody ever got through Batgirl. Batgirl struggled with technical knowledge, reading and writing and investigating and chasing down leads, the only area where Tim had ever excelled. Together, they had almost been as good as Batman. Sometimes, Tim had let himself think that they might be better.

They had been so similar. Everyone had always said so. They’re both so quiet, the Justice League had said. Emotionless little freaks, the Rogues had said. Neither of them blink, their schoolmates had said. But there had been nothing to say, not between them: they could have a conversation without words, without even Sign. Cass had known every twitch of Tim’s body, had understood him down to his core. Nobody else ever had. Everybody had always called Tim inscrutable and impossible to understand - but to Cass, Tim had been an open book. She knew every inch of him. And she had loved him anyway.

And Steph! When Steph had found them when they were fourteen veering on fifteen, and from then on it was as if she had always been there. She was so big, so smiling, so much, and she had never apologized for any of it. Nothing scared her. To Tim, that was the perfect vigilante - somebody who was scared of nothing, who never hesitated, who was good.

Not even Bruce could intimidate her. When Tim was fourteen, he had thought that was the most amazing thing in the world. Bruce intimidated everyone, but Steph had just stuck out her tongue and kept badly backflipping off roofs anyway. Through twin convincing, Tim and Cass had convinced Bruce to give her a chance, and Spoiler had slot into their dynamic perfectly. She was their best friend, always.

She wasn’t good at hand-to-hand at first, but Tim had improved by then, and they could cover her. She improved faster than he had, and judging from the reconnaissance footage Tim had frantically consumed after he came back to life, she was amazing now. She was wickedly smart, practical and down to Earth. If Tim was better at hacking into a computer, Steph was the one who found the post-it note with the password stuck under the desk.

But more than any of that, she had brought the social skills. She had brought the calming presence, the sweet hand to victims and civilians, and her good humor was infectious. Steph was good with people. She was a born leader. Resilient. Brave. Everybody liked her. Everybody loved her. Tim had. She had loved him too. She could have done so much better than Tim and Cass, weird little societal rejects, but she had chosen them as her family.

It had been the three of them. For as long as Tim’s life had meaning, for as long as he had been loved, they had loved him. Tim had grown up alone, in a world of one, and they had infiltrated it. They had expanded it, and they dragged his life into more than just Tim. Into Tim-and-Cass-and-Steph. Into Robin-Batgirl-Spoiler. Into meaning, and love.

Tim hated them. And he wanted them to suffer.

“That’s the Stephanie Brown I remember,” Tim sneered, closing the door behind him. Steph had quickly thrown herself onto Tim’s couch, clearly somewhat surprised at how comfortable it was, and Cass had perched daintily on the arm. Cass had always refused to sit like a normal person - she would rather sit on the backs of sofas, or on the arm, or perched on chairs like a bird - “If I had known you were coming I would have jumped cities.”

“We would have chased you down and you know that,” Steph said cheerfully, like she said fucking everything. “Besides, if you had known we were coming you would have gone into witness protection. You’ve been avoiding the fuck outta us.”

“Wonder why,” Tim said, injecting as much mean-spirited sarcasm into his voice as possible. “I need more coffee, don’t go through my shit.”

The apartment was small, and the kitchen had a cut-away wall where he could see through into the living room. Stephanie hated nothing more than being ignored or looked down upon, and if he dismissed her and didn’t react then she’d grow infuriated with him and leave. He couldn’t fight with her, because if it came down to a battle of rhetoric or emotions she’d win single-handedly. She was so good with words. Cass...had no weaknesses.

Which was inconvenient, because it was Cass he absolutely had to get rid of as soon as possible. She was very emotional, and more than a little sensitive. Especially to rejection. If he was cruel enough to her, she’d start crying and leave. There was only one problem with that.

As he jammed more grounds into the machine he watched the girls out of the corner of his eye. They weren’t talking or whispering to each other, both fully aware of how well Tim could read lips. They weren’t even having one of those body language conversations they could only have with each other, aware that Tim could crack that too. Instead Stephanie was casually sprawled on his couch, looking for all the world like a middle aged dad watching the football game, looking around the room. Cass, as usual, was zoning out. Or, of course, looked like she was zoning out - Tim could tell that she was waiting for something to happen, and was preparing herself for it.

Shit. Tim fought the urge to gnaw on his fingernail. Cass was going to be a problem.

He risked another glance backwards. She could see him, so she knew. Fuck. He had never been on the other side of her mind reading. It was fucking inconvenient. Psychics should be shot on sight.

The coffee sloshed into the biggest cup he could find in his kitchen, and Tim began draining it immediately as he leaned over the cutaway. He kept the cup held up to his face, obscuring it. Face covered, everything under the elbows covered - best he could do without preparation.

“This little field trip sanctified by Sgt. Brother?” Tim asked, sipping the scalding hot coffee. Not hot enough. He needed - he needed - they’d see -

“We’re nineteen, we don’t need his permission for everything we do,” Steph said, amused. So she was going to speak for Cass - hardly unusual, as whenever they were all together Steph tended to be the only one who spoke - but seeing as Tim was Tim then it was definitely a strategy.

“He lets his precious baby sisters knock on the door of drug lords for fun?” Tim sneered.

“If they’re incompetent and retired, sure!”

Tim gritted his teeth. Don’t rise to her bait. Don’t. She was the best person in the family at getting a rise out of their enemies. He didn’t stand a chance.

“What do you want?”

“We thought we’d take you roller skating at the rink,” Steph chirped.

Tim stared at her.

“Or the pool,” Steph said, faux-thoughtfully. “Or just the mall?”

Fuck this. Tim headed for the door, ready to walk out of the building barefoot in his pyjamas. He tugged at the doorknob, only to find that it wouldn’t open.

Tim breathed in through his nose, then out through his mouth. There were other exits. He was not trapped. Had his apartment always been so small? He could have sworn that it was bigger.

He turned around slowly. Stephanie was grinning at him, twirling what looked like a small plastic cylinder. Tim recognized it instantly - fancy League tech. Overrides all electronic locks and controls them. They all used it to trap perps and heighten their fear tactics. Tim jammed his thumb on the keypad. Nothing happened.

Cass glanced at Steph, and made a small motion. Tim couldn’t interpret it. Why couldn’t he interpret it? Did they have a new code? It was Cass. When nobody else had understood her, Tim always had. Now they had their own language, one that Tim couldn’t interpret anymore. Tim was lost in translation, always drifting.

“We aren’t bringing you in,” Steph said, just as light as ever. No trace of pity or caution or gentleness in her voice: just relentless cheer. “Literally all we want to do is talk. Play a board game, maybe?”

Tim’s eyes flickered to the hidden panel in the wall next to him where he had stashed a gun and a sword.

“Bro,” Steph said, “you really don’t want to escalate this.”

“Do you think you can take me?” Tim asked curiously, letting his hand drift to his arm. He shook his long pyjama sleeve down to cover his wrist. “That’s pretty cute. Last time I checked, you’re the shittiest at hand-to-hand in your team.”

But Steph just rolled her eyes. Shit, wasn’t he supposed to be ignoring her? He couldn’t, not so long as she kept pushing and pushing. Not so long as she was in his house. “Leave off. Just because Jay and I are the last people in the fam who weren’t trained in Mystical Ninja Arts doesn’t mean I’m incompetent. Hands in the air, by the way.”

Stephanie was overly sentimental. New tactic. He raised his hands slightly in the air, caught reaching for the weapon hidden in his armor. “Incompetent enough to let me die.”

There. Finally. Thank god, Tim thought he was losing his touch. The muscles clenched in Stephanie’s jaw, and just a twitch of her eye - banishing a bad memory. “Everybody’s been saying you’ve turned rude. I guess you’ve just been avoiding us because you don’t want to hurt our feelings, right?”

“I didn’t remember a lot when I was first resurrected,” Tim said casually, despite the fact that he had never told anybody about the first awful six months. Something about Steph and Cass just pried it out of him, like invasive surgery. Or an autopsy. “I remember everything about those six months, though. Homeless. Practically retarded. Brain damage does that to you, you know. I lived on the streets, did you know that? It was a miracle I lived through it.” He gasped, as if he was remembering something. “I slept on 34th street! You lived near there, didn’t you? Maybe you even walked by me.”

Steph went white. Cass’ expression froze. He was pushing hard, but these two wouldn’t react to anything less. Steph could trade barbs better than he could, even now.

“It’s a good thing Talia found me,” Tim continued. “She was the only one who cared.”

That did it. Steph tensed, leaning forward, and even Cass stiffened. “Is that what she told you? How can you believe her?”

Tim just shrugged, walking back to the kitchen and hiding his body language again. He took an extra loud slurp of the coffee, just to be annoying. “Talia never lied to me. She said that nobody cared enough to save me. And guess what!”

Steph’s jaw clenched again. She was a hot head. A fierce temper, an impulsive girl who jumped in feet first and sanity second. Woman, now. When had that happened? “Cut that shit out. We all know what you’re doing. You’ve been doing it to everyone. Did you think Connor didn’t warn us?”

Snitch. Tim slurped his coffee again. “Connor’s been telling everyone to give me space.”

“Yeah, everyone but us.” She stood up now, ignoring the flicker of a frown on Cass’ face, and folded her arms. A challenge against the world. Against Tim. It didn’t matter. “You don’t believe half the shit you’re spewing. You’ve never believed your own bullshit, Tim. You’re just saying it to drive everybody away. It’s not going to work on us.”

“Why?” Tim asked innocently. “You’re too thick?”

“Because we love you!” Steph cried. Tim rolled his eyes. As if he hadn’t heard that one before. “Saving Richie proved it, you aren’t as insane as you keep pretending you are. You know what you’re doing is wrong, you just don’t care.”

“Wow, you caught me.” Tim took another long swig of his coffee. It was making his hands jittery. Good. “Local genius aware of his actions. Call the press. Call Uncle Clark, he needs a scoop.” He arched an eyebrow at Steph. She hated that expression of his - she had always found it so aristocratic and pretentious. Joke’s on her, he was pretentious. “Do you mind if I go do a line? I’m not high enough for this conversation.”

If she had told him who she was, he would have done a line anyway just to spite her, and she knew it. “You don’t want to try,” Steph said stubbornly, “but you’re trying. You don’t want to care, but you care. You don’t want to feel it, but it hurts so much you can’t bear it. You can’t get anything past us, Tim. It’s always just been us. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

Doesn’t that mean -

“What that means,” Tim said, and he found the words scraping his throat. He found himself talking a little louder than he meant to. The coffee, you know. Made you jittery. “is that you should have saved me. If you loved me so fucking much, you would have been anything other than useless. You’ve always been the most useless girl in the world, Steph. You couldn’t save your crook of a dad or your junkie of a mom. You couldn’t save your baby and you couldn’t save me. You’re ghetto trash putting on airs, and everyone can smell it on you.”

As soon as he said it, he tensed. He shifted his stance, ready to throw the coffee and spill the scalding liquid on her. Obscure her vision. It would take a second for her to vault the cover, so he could duck down. From there he could get the gun, shoot the window, jump out the window. She couldn’t win. Tim had the most powerful weapon in the world in his disposal and that was his infinite, burning hate. His hate for Steph and Cass burned him to the ground, and his world with it, and he was going to burn them to cinders because he couldn’t do anything else.

But Steph didn’t move. Cass got off the sofa. She walked up to Steph, and gently pressed a hand on her shoulder. She squeezed. Steph exhaled, long and shaking, and nodded at Cass. She walked into Tim’s bedroom - hey! - and shut the door.

Then Cass stared at Tim, and there was no more need for words. Not between them.

Tim vaulted the cut away wall, aiming for her feet first. Cass didn’t dodge - that would imply that she moved like an object moved. She moved like water moved - swift and supple, with such infinite grace and precision that it was like she wasn’t human at all.

But he had gotten better. He didn’t spend two and half years trained by the League of Assassins in crochet. Tim lashed out with a foot, she dodged again. He threw a punch, she moved. He feinted, clearly leaving her an opening, and she didn’t take it.

Bitch.

Cass shoved away his coffee table, sending it skidding across the floor and opening the floor space. The rug became their arena, tight and intimate, no room for maneuverability. Tim acted and she reacted, Tim lashed out a sweep kick and she jumped over it, Tim tried to grapple and she broke his hold. She never threw him to the ground, never pinned him. She just moved.

She was good, but not good enough to toy with him and win completely. The way to win against Cass was to leverage your height - Tim was taller than he once was, although that wasn’t saying much - weight, and strength against her. A couple good hits and she was down.

The issue, of course, was hitting her.

He got a hit in. It was much easier when she wasn’t even fighting back. She rolled with it effortlessly, taking the impact to gain a little space between them. She breathed deeply, sweat rolling down her neck. Tim used to take a cold compress and press it to that neck. She used to smile at him. Thank you.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Cass said.

“Too bad,” Tim said.

Fights weren’t like in television, long and choreographed extended scenes to entertain and thrill. When Ro - Tim was in a fight, a real fight, it was typically finished in less than a minute. The only way that a match can get long is if the other person was deliberately tiring you out - a risky strategy - or if you were of completely equal strengths with similar fighting styles. Or if it was a spar.

As Tim tried to hit her again and again, he realized that it was a spar.

No, not even that. It was a conversation.

Tim grabbed her wrist, and said: I want you to hurt. Cass broke the hold, telling him that he can’t. Tim leveraged the motion and kneed her in the back, telling her that the only goal of this fight was pain. Cass let the impact take her down to the mat, an incredibly disadvantageous position, but rolled out of the way just as Tim tried to exploit the opportunity. I’m not scared of you. Tim hit again, and again, and again, failing every time. I want you gone, Tim said, and this is the only way I know how to do it.

This is what Tim said: as much as I once loved you, I now hate you. The infinite depths of my love, my twin sister, how we moved in perfect sync. I hate it all. As much as I cared, I now hate. Feel this hate. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Cass said.

They moved in perfect sync, even now. Cass couldn’t predict his movements before he made them, like she used to - his training was different now, developed and refined. But Cass knew the League of Assassins too, had been trained by them just as he had, and they were written into her bones when they were only carved into Tim’s. After his third patented Talia move, she adjusted to fit his style, and their fight metamorphosed into more of a dance. Like they used to.

“Why not!” Tim screamed, the stupidest possible thing to do in a fight, but Cass didn’t take advantage of his exhale. He lashed out a fist to cover the opening, but it was lazy and over-extended, and she dodged easily. “I’m going to kill you!”

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

Tim desperately tried to call the green to his vision. It was so easy. All he had to do was tap into that rage. Talia had called it blood lust. Said it was normal, even good. But it wouldn’t come. Where was it? It was his only friend.

Desperately, Tim went in for another punch to the face - Cass’ jaw was the weakest part of her body, an old injury - but he over-extended again, and this time Cass took the opportunity. She grabbed his arm and pulled him forward, dropping him to the mat. She didn’t try to twist him around, instead landing him on his back. Bad move for her.

She kneed him in the chest, putting her full hundred and thirty pounds on him. She twisted his hands behind his back, pinning him, and Tim could do barely more than wheeze.

He looked at her in the eyes for the first time. They were infuriatingly calm. Her hair was tangled and clumped with sweat, but she wasn’t breathing hard. Her expression was placid and serene, as if she was watching one of her stupid fucking nature documentaries instead of pinning her brother to a hard and scratchy rug in a shithole apartment, three years after he was tortured to insanity and shot himself in the head.

So much time had passed. So much had happened, nasty and festering and putrid, and Tim had let it happen. He had made it happen. There was a rot in Tim, and it had eaten him up until there was nothing inside. If you cut him open, would it spill out? Would it infect her, infect Steph? Could he make them suffer?

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Cass repeated. “So don’t be scared.”

“Scared?! I’m not fucking -” Tim wheezed, cut off by the lack of air as Cass pressed down.

“I’m sorry you’re scared. I didn’t mean to leave you alone. But I did. I’m sorry.”

“I’m going to kill -”

Cass pressed down on his chest again, cutting him off. She had finally done the one thing nobody in Tim’s life had ever figured out: how to make him shut up. “You can be as mean to me as you want. It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. I’ll stay.”

Tim wheezed. In that, maybe, Cass heard something, because she continued as if he had spoken. Or maybe she just wanted the chance to talk. It had been stolen from her for thirteen years, and it was valuable to her.

“You do not have to be kind. You do not have to hug me, even if I want you to. You do not have to be my brother. I know it hurts too much. But you are me. I am you. You do not even have to try for that. I do not have to give it to you. You have it.”

Tim couldn’t help it. He cried a little, and then he couldn’t stop.

Cass got off him, but she kept her promise. She didn’t hug him. She just propped him up against the sofa, holding his hand, and didn’t speak. At some point the door creaked, and he felt Stephanie next to him.

This is why, Tim thought hysterically, he had been avoiding them.

He knew this would happen. There was no hiding from Cass. There was no posturing, no pretending. She didn’t want anything from him. She never had. There was nothing he could say that would drive her away, because Cass did not listen to the words people spoke. She spoke only for clarity, when she could not afford for her words to be misconstrued, and for the comfort of others.

Cass knew that he had been lying out of his ass. Cass knew that he wasn’t as insane as he pretended, as cruel as he wanted to be.

He couldn’t make Cass hate him. Shit.

None of them said anything. Nothing needed to be said, not between the three of them. Cass might be having a silent conversation in Sign with Steph, but he didn’t care enough to open his eyes and look. When they had first met, it used to make Steph so mad that Tim and Cass were having ‘secret conversations’. She had poured over her dictionaries, learning as quickly as physically possible so she could keep up. Everything Steph had, she had worked hard for.

Steph was in college now. Premed. She wanted to be an ER doctor. Steph wasn’t a genius, she had to study hard. She wouldn’t be able to superhero in med school, so she was ready to hang up her cape for a few years until she achieved her dream. Steph said that she could do just as much good as a doctor as a superhero. She hadn’t always wanted it. When they were kids and Bruce used to ask her what she wanted to do when she grew up, in his awkward faux-dad way, she had always shrugged and said that she might be a nurse.

“Why not med school?” Bruce had suggested, between sleepy spoonfuls of oatmeal. She used to spend more nights at their place than at her own. Her mom hadn’t noticed.

Steph had just shrugged awkwardly, nibbling her whole-wheat organic toast that she would stare at suspiciously. Rich people, she would say, sighing. “I would never be able to afford it. And no way I’m smart enough.”

“You’re good enough,” Bruce said, which was the closest he ever came to praising somebody. “I’ll pay for it.”

Steph had gaped. Cass had eaten her Lucky Charms smugly. Tim had rolled his eyes. “An in-the-know doctor for the vigilante community would be invaluable,” he had informed her, pretentious and callous. “We could use you.”

“You deserve it,” Cass had signed.

“You have a bright future, Stephanie,” Bruce said, buckling under the panic of being a responsible adult. “I would hate to see you waste it.”

He would hate to see any of them waste their future. He had hated to see what Tim had become. He knew that. The last time he had ever seen Bruce, it was just to disappoint him. Bruce was the only parent he had ever had, and his standards were so sky high it was impossible to do anything other than disappoint.

The fact of the matter was this: he loved Cass and Steph more than he loved Bruce. He could hate Bruce. He could hate himself. But Cass and Steph…

Bruce had ear-marked a lot of money for Steph, both for whatever continuing education she chose and for her future. It had raised a lot of questions among the lawyer team, but ultimately she had been written off as another of his strays. Tim had left her a lot of money too. There probably wasn’t any point: when she married Cass she’d have equal access to the fortune. Rich people, Stephanie used to whisper in awe, looking at organic toast.

Cass was majoring in dance. She wanted to be a ballerina.

Tim’s future...Tim’s future…

“Or we can watch a nature documentary,” Steph said out loud. “If we all promise not to say a fucking word.”

Incredibly, unmistakably, irrevocably, Tim groaned. “Not the fucking bee one again.”

“I like the bees,” Cass said serenely.

“If you aren’t going to get out of my house can I at least smoke up?” Tim asked miserably.

“I brought gummy bears,” Steph said, chipper as ever, “which are way better.”

“I’m going to the fucking bathroom,” Tim grumbled, which everybody knew was as good as a yes.

“If you take anything I’ll know,” Cass said serenely, and also threatened.

“Fuck you, bitch.”

Steph and Cass high-fived, and Tim sulked angrily to the bathroom. He took a second to look at himself in the mirror - looking for Tim Drake, failing, as always - before opening it and grabbing his baggie of pills.

He looked at it. He looked at the toilet. He looked at the baggie.

He didn’t flush them. He put them back in the medicine cabinet. Tomorrow. He’ll do them tomorrow. Not today. He can hold out for 24 hours. It’ll be fine.

For a wild, stupid, insane second, Tim wondered if he could say that tomorrow too. If tomorrow he would look at them and say: maybe tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that…

If there was a future, for a fuck-up like him.

The faint strains of Cass’ stupid fucking bee documentary began playing through the thin walls of his shitty little apartment, and Tim turned out the lights of his bathroom and closed the door, locking it securely behind him.

#i write a lot of shit i don't post and i don't feel the need to post it a lot of the time #but sometimes im like. ah yeah that does exist maybe they'll care #my writing #tim drake #batman #batfam #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #do not FUCKING get met started on tim cass and steph im OBSESSED

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filmhistorymptv1145 · 3 years

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Examine the ways in which films deal with social, political, cultural, and economic issues, both in direct and indirect ways. What is the political impact of cinema on audiences around the world and how do we see it? Should filmmakers directly engage with these kinds of issues or do so subtly? Discuss any of the films we have watched so far from this perspective, and draw upon other examples if necessary.

Social commentary exists in many forms. We read it in books and hear it in music of every genre. It does not discriminate, covering every issue from politics to economics. As film grew into its own medium, it became a new platform for artists to utilize in portraying their visions of the world. Whether they be whimsical and over the top, or down to earth and stunningly realistic, movies grew to become one of the largest entertainment industries. Directors and screenwriters, whether inspired by or displeased with their surroundings, came to use film as a method of sharing their thoughts and emotions. Be it through direct or indirect means, they would criticize politicians and governments to historic and current world events. Certain countries were more limited than others in controlling the content of films, pushing creators to become even more crafty and thoughtful when conveying their opinions on screen.

With the Motion Picture Production Code in full effect in the US, film makers who wanted to touch upon political issues in American society had to do so in a very subtle way. Take Force of Evil, for instance. On the outside, it reads like a classic gangster movie that was commonly seen in the 1940’s. However, it is deeply critical of the money and power-hungry American underbelly of society, digging into the Capitalism that has overtaken the country even in these earlier years. Irony is found in the two main characters, a pair of brothers. Joe is a lawyer who runs dirty deals with gang members, using his education and career to further their unsavory deeds. His brother Leo believes that his own line of work is earnest and respectable, when in reality it is not. Leo runs a ‘bank’ for the small number rackets that exist in New York City, mainly centered around bets that are placed on horse races. Leo strongly feels that he is not as morally corrupted as his brother, despite being in charge of an illegal business.

The mise-an-scene of the film is what really drives home the underlying critique of money and its corrupting force. Joe takes Leo’s former secretary Doris for a walk on Wall Street, taking her through a church cemetery. The church building is completely dwarfed by the towering buildings of Wall Street’s capitalist businesses. The implied message here is that money is the new God, that the hold it has over people is nearly as strong as religion.

For Polonsky, who was put on the blacklist by HUACC for his leftist ideals, this message is as true to him as it gets. In Polonsky’s eyes, people no longer feared God as much as they did losing money in capitalist America. Considering what the entire world had just lost three years prior in World War Two, it is almost insulting to showcase people like Joe and his associates on screen. Money grubbing is not what America wanted its people to think they had fought and died for, just the opposite. Justice and morality is what America wants people to think it stands for, not capitalism and the desire to supersede the people in their lives. Force of Evil is astoundingly subtle and simultaneously gritty, holding true to the film noir standard of the times.

At the end of the film, when Leo is killed by Joe’s nefarious associates, Joe goes to retrieve his brother’s body. Stairwells are used as a metaphor for an internal moral struggle. In a voiceover, Joe laments ‘I just kept going down and down. It felt like I was going to the bottom of the world.’ The decrepit area beneath the bridge is the exact opposite of the organized, shining city above. Finding his brother’s body is Joe’s moral rock bottom, both literally and metaphorically. It is a slap in the face for Joe, stripping away all of the justifications he has held for his less than moral behavior and actions.

Polonsky cuts to Doris as Joe says, ‘He is dead,’ juxtaposing the image of a living woman with the realization that his brother Leo is gone. It is jarring, but it also suggests a dual motivation rising within Joe. Inspired by Doris’ love and Leo’s death, Joe turns to make his way back up the enormous staircase. This finale leaves the viewers with some hope that Joe can possibly redeem himself after his selfish actions, but will it be as quickly as he ran down the stairs towards his brother’s corpse?

One wouldn’t think that in 1950’s America, a bold film would tackle such a hot social issue: equal rights for African Americans. Especially with the Motion Picture Production Code still in full effect. Typically, when reflecting on movies from that decade, our minds are filled with images of romantic melodramas, as well as musicals and other bright, cheery content. The Defiant Ones not only tackled the issue of racism in America, but it also set the standard for the ‘buddy’ films that are commonplace today. Two escaped convicts are chained together at the wrist, one white and one African American. The film goes back and forth between Johnny and Cullen’s escapades whilst on the run, and the officers who have been assigned to track them down and take them back to prison. The tone of the film is established in the first few minutes, when one of the officers refers to Cullen as the n-word. Later on in the movie, when Johnny and Cullen are apprehended by a group of townspeople after attempting to rob their general store, they start stringing up two nooses. Johnny is mortified, looking around at the townsfolk with terror in his eyes. ‘You can’t lynch me, I’m a white man!’ he pleads. The message is clear: lynching is something white people do to black people.

Not only does the movie look at the harsh reality of life for African Americans at the time, but the relationship that develops between Johnny and Cullen is in itself socially and politically charged. Over the course of the movie, the two convicts go from being at odds with one another to developing a close friendship. Not even Johnny’s mistake to trust the woman they holed up with can break their bond. Johnny leaves the woman behind to rescue Cullen from the dangerous swamps. At the film’s end, Cullen is cradling Johnny, who is wounded from a gunshot to the chest. They are collapsed on the grass together, sharing a cigarette while Cullen sings and the police detective approaches to apprehend them.

Not only has Johnny moved past his racist ideals, but one could also say that their positioning at the end of the film is borderline sexual. The way Cullen holds Johnny is almost as if it is in a lover’s embrace. Cullen’s portrayal in the film is especially bold, since he was portrayed to be well-spoken, intelligent and overall good. A far cry from films like Birth of a Nation where African Americans are put in the most negative light possible, portrayed as thieves and rapists while the Ku Klux Klan members are seen as heroic and noble. The Defiant Ones, supported by Sidney Poitier’s phenomenal acting, gave rise to a much more positive role for African American actors to portray on screen. Though the ‘righteous Black man’ did end up becoming a trope in Hollywood for many years, it was still a positive step in the right direction for civil rights.

Outside of the US, films were not constricted by strict standards of morality and content. They were much freer to openly criticize the societal norms and political atmospheres that were in place at the time of their creation. Hiroshima Mon Amour is a French made film that touches on the devastation of the nuclear bomb drops in Hiroshima and Nagasaki. While the movie itself seems to be mainly centered around a couple who cannot be together due to extenuating circumstances and their own inner demons, it is also direct commentary on how Japan remembered the bombings, and how different it is from the perspective of the rest of the world.

The first ten minutes of the film are composed of an almost poetry-like sequence of shots of Hiroshima before and after the bombs paired together with the two main character’s voice overs. The characters, a French woman, and a Japanese man, are in bed together in a loving embrace. The opening shot features ash falling onto their naked bodies, which we can infer mimics the death ash that fell onto Hiroshima after the atomic bomb’s detonation. This frame cross fades into nearly the same image of the naked couple, but the ash is gone from their bedroom.

The woman is stating that she knows all about what happened in Hiroshima, from having seen the newsreels that aired after the bombs had been dropped. The man argues that she has no idea what really happened. She states that in the newsreels she viewed, bugs were already crawling up through the debris and dirt on the second day and that flowers were growing all over Hiroshima just a few days after the bomb had been dropped. This voiceover is paired with the footage of a young boy being treated for burns and lesions on his skin, the exact opposite of new life springing forth from the ashes. The obvious pain that the boy is enduring is starkly contrasted to how the French woman describes all the different kinds of flowers that began blooming after the bombs had been dropped.

The Hiroshima that exists in the French woman’s mind is completely different from the Japanese man’s. This speaks to the overall theme of the movie, that collective and individual memories, as well as one’s identity can be corrupted. That the human brain is not a perfect organ and at times, it can even be our worst enemy. The French woman protests that she has seen Hiroshima. She had been to its museums, she knew how it had been over ten-thousand degrees in Peace Square at the time of detonation, and she had seen the films that had been made about the devastation. Her partner states over and over during this intro sequence that, ‘You saw nothing in Hiroshima. Nothing.’ Her experience of the disaster when compared to his is hollow, a clever way of illustrating how two people can think of the same event so differently.

Even if the trend of filmmaking has changed, shifting from film noir and melodrama to the blockbuster and action movies, social commentary still persists throughout the media. As the world around us changes and moves forward (be it for better or worse), so does the real-life content that directors and screenwriters are inspired by. Seeing politically and socially charged movies, whether they are extremely subtle or right up in your face, helps us both cope with world events and immortalize what occurred. As if to say, ‘We were here. We saw what took place. This is how we remember it.’

#abraham polonsky #force of evil #the defiant ones #hiroshima mon amour

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badchoicesposts · 5 years

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In A Land Of Myth...

Chapter 5

Summary: When Selene, a young sorceress, arrived in Stormholt she had every intention of remaining anonymous. King Constantine Rys had strict rules on sorcery. The act itself was punishable by death, and she had no desire to be burnt at the stake for her “crimes”. However, it becomes increasingly difficult for her to remain unseen when she becomes Prince Liam’s personal maidservant, and it seems that it’s her job to protect him from everyone that wants to kill him.

Author’s Note: So this is an AU that is a cross between TRR and BBC’s Merlin. If you haven’t watched the show before it follows the tale of King Arthur and the sorcerer Merlin. Merlin comes to Camelot where magic is outlawed and is made Prince Arthur’s servant. This fic will also contain some elements of The Crown and The Flame, but things have been changed up a bit to fit the Merlin story line.

Disclaimer: You do not have to watch the show to understand this fic, but it is based on the BBC show Merlin so the story line will be similar, but there will be changes made to fit my story as well.

Pairing: Liam x MC (Selene), Drake x MC, Platonic!Bastien x MC

Taglist: @flowerpowell, @bobasheebaby, @alexintheskyy, @slytherincursebreaker, @kingliam2019, @furiousherringoperatortoad, @goldenbirdcrystalcage, @burnsoslow, @zilch3

Let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist!

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

Selene ran through the castle’s halls and to the physician’s quarters. She threw the door open to find Xinghai and Hana both bent over the man who had just become victim to Neville’s enchanted shield.

“Is he going to be alright?” she asked, rushing over to the two of them.

“He has no apparent injuries,” Xinghai explained confusedly. “There is a small bruise on his head from where he was hit, but a blow wouldn’t cause these symptoms. Fever, paralysis, slow pulse. These things are typically consistent with a poisoning.”

Selene approached the man and sank down next to the small cot he was lying on. She reached her hand up and lowered the neckline of the shirt he was wearing, revealing two small puncture wounds.

“He was poisoned. Neville’s using an enchanted shield. I saw one of the snakes come to life and strike him on the neck,” she said, gesturing to the man in front of her.

Xinghai looked shocked, but all of the proof needed was on the man in front of them.

“You’re certain?” he questioned anyway.

“I am. Can you heal him?”

“I would need to extract venom from the snake that bit him to make the antidote,” the physician responded.

“And if he doesn’t receive the antidote?” she asked, fearing she already knew the answer.

Xinghai simply looked at her sadly, his silence answering her question. Selene racked her brains for a solution, but she could only think of one thing to do. She would need to get the venom for the antidote. Neville’s shield wasn’t in the armory. She hadn’t seen it when she had dropped off Liam’s items, which meant that he was keeping it in his chambers. She began formulating a plan in her head.

The sun would be setting soon, and Liam had requested her to help the usual waitstaff for dinner that night. She knew Neville was guaranteed to be in attendance since he was the only knight still remaining in the competition besides Liam. If she wanted to take a look at his shield, the only time she would truly be able to do so unbothered would be during the meal. But, she didn’t want to risk upsetting the prince by disobeying his orders either. At this point, however, her only options were disobeying Liam and letting another man die.

“I’ll get you the venom,” she said, casting one last look to the knight lying on the cot and taking off down the hall once again.

She found Neville’s chambers easily and hid herself behind a pillar nearby. From this position she would be able to see him leave the room, allowing her to enter it undetected. Selene anxiously twirled her finger around one of her curls as she waited for him to exit his chambers. After what seemed like hours, but was in reality only a few minutes, he exited the room, his footsteps echoing through the corridor loudly as he walked by. She let out a sigh of relief and looked over her shoulder to make sure the area was deserted before tiptoeing down to his room and slipping inside.

Just as she expected, the object she had been searching for was sitting upright in a chair. Neville had placed it there very carefully as if it were something extremely precious to him, which she was sure it must be considering the powers it possessed. She glanced around the room for a moment, taking the mess of clothing that was scattered over the floor, and reached for the sword that was leaning against his wardrobe.

Selene held the weapon out in front of her, tracing the tip of it over the outline of the snakes, waiting for something to happen. However, she did this in vain, for nothing happened, and after a few moments, she lowered the sword again. She let out an annoyed breath and began pacing back and forth in front of the shield, racking her brain for something that would cause the snakes to reveal themselves. She briefly remembered seeing an incantation in her magic book that could cause inanimate objects to come to life, but she couldn’t remember it.

The sun was beginning to set, and Selene knew that if she didn’t make it down to the dining room by dark, Liam would notice her absence. She had just considered possibly giving up her mission and heading back to her chambers to look through her magic book when she heard a soft hissing behind her. She whipped her head around and came face to face with one of the snakes. The animal was poised to strike as if sensing that she meant them harm, but she was quicker than it. She raised the sword and swung it as hard as she could, removing the head from the long, winding body. The sword dropped from her hand as she hastily grabbed the severed head. If she left now, she would be able to deliver it to Xinghai and still make it to the dining hall in time. But, of course it wasn’t going to be that easy. Selene cursed whatever higher power existed as she watched the snake’s brothers began to rise from the shield in response to her actions.

She knew that she was in danger and slowly began to back away from the object. Her back hit the door and she reached behind her, fiddling with the handle before running out into the corridor, her chest heaving as she attempted to calm her breathing. She broke out into a run, clutching the snake head tightly in her hand as she headed straight for the physician’s quarters.

Xinghai and Hana both jumped at the sound of their door slamming open and looked up in concern when they noticed how frantic she looked.

“Selene! Where have you been?” Hana asked, quickly approaching her friend and looking her over to make sure she wasn’t injured.

“Here,” Selene said, pushing the snake head into her hand.

Hana let out a scream and dropped the offending item, causing Selene to roll her eyes good naturedly.

“I cut the thing’s head off, and you can’t even hold it for a second,” she chuckled to herself picking it up and bringing it over to Xinghai.

Hana smiled in response and elbowed her side playfully.

“Can he be healed by the morning? He needs to tell the king about Neville before the final starts,” she said, looking to the older man hopefully.

“Possibly, but I’ll need some time to work.”

Selene nodded, and the three parted ways once again as she broke out in a run in attempts to make it down to the dining room as quickly as possible. She came to a stop in front of Gladys, who was also working tonight.

“Where have you been?” she asked shoving a pitcher of wine into her hands.

Selene opened her mouth to respond, but the other woman sushed her instead, obviously frustrated by her lack of assistance.

“Go refill their goblets,” she said pushing her out into the area where the men had gathered for their meal.

Everyone’s eyes turned to look at her as she stumbled into the room smiling awkwardly. She straightened up and made her way to Constantine’s side, filling his cup as they continued their conversation. The dinner party itself was very small, only being comprised of the King, his two sons, Bastien, who Selene had learned to be one of Constantine’s most trusted knights and “companions”, Neville, and two other men that she didn’t recognize.

Selene moved to Leo’s side next. As she began filling his goblet, she caught Liam’s eyes across the table. He offered her a small smile which she returned. Leo cleared his throat subtly beside her causing her to turn to him. He shot her a smirk, looking back and forth between her and his brother and winked. She simply narrowed her eyes at him and moved on to Bastien

“Where have you been?” he whispered as she leaned over to grab his goblet.

“Long story,” she whispered back, continuing to make her rounds.

“Sir Neville, you should remain in Stormholt after the tournament,” Constantine began, taking a long pull of wine. “We could use more knights like you.”

Selene was forced to keep herself from scoffing. Of course Constantine would want someone as aggressive as Neville around. She was just about to move away from the table when a hand roughly grabbed her wrist. She gasped in shock, her heart beating rapidly in her chest as she turned around to see Neville holding onto her tightly. She wasn’t sure if she was more startled because she had been sneaking around in his room earlier or because he had grabbed onto her without her permission.

“Release her!” Liam commanded, his eyes hard as he gazed over at the two of them.

The room filled with tension as everyone looked over to the three of them.

“I just wanted a refill,” Neville responded innocently, raising his goblet up to her.

She obliged with every intention of getting out of there as soon as possible, shooting Bastien a nervous look as she hurriedly exited the room, counting the seconds as they passed while she waited for the meal to be over.

She left as soon as Liam had dismissed her, fully aware that he believed she was acting strange. She explained their situation to Bastien that night, and even though she now had proof and a potential witness he still urged her to be careful, suspecting that it wouldn’t be easy for them to turn Neville in.

That night, instead of sleeping, Selene paced up and down the length or her room. She was anxiously awaiting sunrise, hoping that the injured knight would make a speedy recovery.

The first thing she did the next morning was head to the physician’s quarters. Upon entering she was happy to see the knight lying in his cot with his eyes open. He was obviously still very weak, but conscious.

“I need to tell Liam,” she said immediately, once the man had retold the story from his perspective.

“Take this,” Xinghai said, handing her the snake’s head.

“Hana, will you come with me as well? You were here with Sir Donald all night,” she said referring to the poisoned knight, “I’m sure your word will count for something.”

The two women began making their way through the castle to Liam’s chambers, Selene buzzing with nervous energy.

“I’ll go in first to make sure he’s… decent,” Selene said, knowing that Liam would probably still be in bed because of the early hour.

She opened his door quietly, and sure enough, the room was dark and the prince was still fast asleep. Selene made her way to one of the windows in the large room and pulled open the heavy drapes causing sunlight to spill in and replace the darkness. She moved over to the bed next. It was still awkward for her to wake him in the mornings. She never knew if she should touch him and shake him awake or if she should simply yell for him to get up.

She stood over him nervously for a moment, before throwing caution to the wind and and calling his name loudly. The action caused him to stir and roll over onto his back, but the man did not wake up. Selene reached out hesitantly, resting her hand on his bare shoulder.

“Prince Liam,” she called again, shaking him softly.

If anything he seemed to relax further at her touch, sighing contentedly. Selene rolled her eyes in frustration and looked around the room. They were running out of time. She reached over his sleeping form and grabbed a small cushion from the other side of the bed. Trying not to think too much about what she was about to do, Selene braced herself.

“Liam!” she screamed, bringing the cushion down to hit him roughly across the head.

The man jumped up and looked around his room frantically for his offender.

“Selene?” he questioned, his voice deeper and still thick with sleep. “Did you just hit me?”

Selene chuckled nervously and dropped the pillow down behind her, kicking it under the bed and out of his sight.

“I need to tell you something,” she said, changing the subject instead of answering his question. “I’m not sure if you noticed, but I’ve been a bit on edge.”

“I’ve noticed. Are you alright?” he asked, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and gently resting his hand on her arm.

Her pulse quickened at his touch, and she stopped momentarily to scold herself. She didn’t have time to deal with her raging hormones.

“Sir Neville’s been using a magic shield,” she said, thrusting the snake head into his hands.

“What?” he said incredulously, looking down at the severed head he was now holding.

Selene called for Hana to enter, and she began explaining what she had seen and done to get the venom needed for Sir Donald’s antidote, Hana expounding on the man’s condition with her medical knowledge.

“I know that my word as a servant may not count for much, but it’s the truth,” she concluded, looking at him nervously.

Liam looked obviously troubled as he took in their words.

“I believe you,” he stated. “I need to call for an audience with the king.”

Liam immediately began to get dressed, and Hana’s face blushed a bright red as she turned away from him.

“You believe us?” Selene asked in shock.

She had half expected him to call her crazy.

“Of course I do. However, my father may not be as open to the idea. Is Sir Donald in a fit state to come forward?”

“He’s still weak, but he is able to speak, Your Highness,” Hana explained.

“Fetch him and bring him down to the throne room,” he instructed her. “Selene, come with me.”

The next few minutes passed by in a blur as Selene ran after Liam as he set about getting an audience with Constantine. Selene felt it was all a bit unnecessary as Constantine was Liam’s father, but he explained that the entire council needed to be present.

It didn’t take long for everyone to begin filing into the throne room, Constantine pacing quietly in front of the them.

“Liam, what is the meaning of all of this?” he asked, turning to his son.

Selene stood a few paces behind Liam, anxiously twiddling her thumbs.

“I have reason to believe that Sir Neville is using magic to cheat in the tournament.”

“Your Majesty, this is absurd!” Neville exclaimed angrily, however Selene could see the nervous sweat that had gathered on his brow.

“Do you have any proof of this?” Constantine asked Liam.

Liam presented Constantine with the snake head.

“I also have a witness, sire. Sir Donald was attacked by said shield,” Liam said, turning back to look at her. “Where is he?” he whispered, nodding his head to where Hana was standing and beckoning her over.

Selene walked over to Hana quickly.

“He’s dead,” she said.

“What?” Selene asked frantically.

“My father stepped away to gather more herbs, and when he returned Sir Donald was dead. He found another set of bite marks on him.”

Selene turned back to Liam, even more nervous than he was before.

“He’s dead,” she said, causing Constantine to look at them angrily.

“So you have no proof,” he said angrily.

“Father, please. Selene fought the snakes personally. I’m sure-” Liam began desperately.

“You question the word of a knight because of your servant?” Constantine barked angrily, causing Selene to flinch slightly.

“Sire, please, I’ve seen the snakes come alive,” she stepped forward, pleading with the king.

However, her actions only seemed to anger the king further.

“SILENCE!” he screamed, “How dare you interrupt? Guards!”

Two guards moved forward, grabbing each of her arms. She saw Liam and Bastien both step towards her protectively, but neither had moved very far before Neville broke his silence once again.

“Wait,” he called, causing the guards to stop pulling her out of the room.

However, neither one of them released her as Neville stalked towards her slowly. The man eyed her hungrily and stopped directly in front of her, bringing his index finger up to slowly stroke her face. She jerked her head away roughly, which only caused him to smile wider.

“I would hate for her to get in trouble because of me,” he said, smirking at her.

She didn’t like the look he gave her as the guards finally released her arms. A look that said she owed him for what he just did.

“See, this is how a knight behaves,” Constantine said, looking to Liam pointedly. “With honor and grace.”

Selene actually rolled her eyes this time. She wanted to ask the king if he believed it was honorable for a man to touch a woman without her permission, noting that it was the second time in the past twelve hours that he had done so. However, she had just gotten out of trouble, and she didn’t need to get herself into any more.

“Sire, if Prince Liam is so afraid of competing against me I would gladly accept this as his resignation,” Neville smirked, looking back over at the two of them.

“That wasn’t my intention, my king,” Liam said, looking extremely dejected. “There has obviously been a misunderstanding. I apologize, Sir Neville.”

Liam nodded to the other man.

“Very well,” Constantine said, seemingly calmer now. “The events shall recommence tomorrow at noon. Sir Neville, I hope you’ll forgive us for this delay.”

With that everyone began slowly filing out of the room, talking excitedly amongst themselves about what had just transpired. Liam exited the room, head down in embarrassment, and Selene ran after him. Neither one of them said a word until they had made it back to his chambers, where he had begun to pace anxiously.

“Liam,” she said his name quietly, not knowing how to fix the situation.

“I trusted you,” he spoke softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Liam, I-” she began before he held his hand up to silence her.

“Now, my father and the entire court believe that I’m a coward. That this was a lie we prepared so I wouldn’t have to compete in the tournament.”

“I’m sorry, but we can still expose him,” she pressed.

“No, I’m relieving you of your duties for the afternoon,” he said, not turning to look at her.

“What?” she asked, shocked.

It was like he suddenly believed that she was lying to him.

“I need some time to reconsider your position here. I need a servant that I can trust,” he continued quietly, not looking her in the eye.

“You can trust me!” she insisted, practically pleading with him. She was literally trying to save his life.

“You’re dismissed,” he said, motioning for her to get out.

She looked at him in shock for a moment, before obliging and walking out the door, closing it softly behind her.

#the royal romance #the royal heir #trr #trh #liam x mc #drake x mc #king liam #liam #drake walker #bastien lykel #trr bastien #bastien x mc #playchoices fic #choices fanfic #playchoices fanfic #the crown and the flame #my fics #choices #playchoices

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gra-sonas · 5 years

Text

Don’t Stay the Night

Pairing: Malex, Alex Manes/Michael Guerin

Words: 2.5K | Rating: M | On AO3

Written for a prompt from veronicabunch's prompt list:

➼ i have a strict rule where no one sleeps over but i guess i forgot to mention that because i wake up and you’re making coffee in my kitchen and why haven’t you left yet?

------

I borrowed 2 lines from Taylor Swift's Paper Rings. There's also a spatula in this fic. I hope @signoraviolettavalery enjoys those things in particular.

Eternal gratitude to the wonderful @insidious-intent for betaing, any remaining mistakes are mine.

~ • ~

Alex had had every intention to tell the man (Michael, he’d said his name was Michael when they’d barely made it inside of Alex’s flat before they'd started making out) that he couldn’t stay the night, but somewhere between Michael going down on his knees and swallowing Alex’s cock to the hilt, and Alex fucking Michael with reckless abandon, he must’ve forgotten to mention it. And now it’s 4 am and Alex is wide awake with Michael softly breathing (snoring) into his neck, his arms and legs wrapped around Alex from behind like a cuddly octopus.

Alex waits. Waits for his anxiety to kick in, for his body to go rigid in the warm embrace, waits for his ears to strain and listen for heavy footsteps in the corridor outside of his apartment. Instead, there's nothing. He feels amazing actually. His breathing is and remains even, his body and limbs are relaxed, his mind is at ease, he feels deliciously warm, and apart from Michael breathing and rustling the sheets ever so slightly when he moves in his sleep, Alex doesn’t hear anything, which puzzles him.

The only two nights he’s ever dared to spend with someone else in his bed, have both ended in disaster. The first disaster had been courtesy of his father, who’d kicked the quarterback (from a visiting high school) he’d snuck into his room to the curb in the middle of the night. He’d then made Alex enlist as a punishment the following morning. Alex had been seventeen at the time.

The second disaster had been courtesy of one of his nightmares a few years ago. He doesn’t even remember the guy’s name, only that he’d looked exceptionally uncomfortable (almost scared) when Alex’s screams and flailing had woken him up. He’d left in a hurry and Alex had never seen him again. Since then, and especially since the loss of his leg, his rule for hook-ups had been: don't stay the night.

So, the fact that he’s lying here in his own bed, peacefully, in the arms of a stranger in the early hours of the day, is difficult for Alex to process.

They’d met at the Wild Pony the night before. Alex had been there to meet with a group of friends when he’d spotted Michael at the bar. He’d looked gorgeous. A halo of honey golden curls framing a face Michelangelo would have desired to immortalize in marble, a lean yet muscular body clad in all denim, worn jeans low on slim hips, a shiny belt buckle directing Alex’s gaze to another promising area of the man’s body (if the decent bulge below the belt was anything to go by).

Michael had been talking to a leggy blonde amazon sitting on a barstool. She’d kept touching his arm and even grabbed for a strand of his curls to tuck behind one of his ears. In that moment, Alex had known he didn’t stand a chance with the guy, of course he was straight and had a model for a girlfriend.

Before he’d decided to turn around and look for his friends, Alex had allowed himself one last look at the Greek god, when suddenly Michael had looked up and stared right at Alex. They’d locked gazes and Alex had felt like time came to a halt suddenly. The music had faded into the background, the strobing lights from the small dance floor in the corner had dimmed down, and all Alex had been able to do was to stare at Michael for what felt like half an eternity. Then the blonde woman had poked Michael in the ribs with a perfectly manicured finger to get his attention.

When Michael had gestured at Alex to stay put, Alex had held onto a nearby barstool to steady himself, while Michael had bent down close to the woman’s ear to say something to her over the sound of the music.

She’d turned around and had followed Michael’s line of sight until she’d spotted Alex. She’d winked at him, her smile laced with something he interpreted as approval and encouragement. Alex had found that rather odd, what kind of arrangement did she and her boyfriend have? She’d slapped Michael on the back before she’d turned back around to the bar where a drink had been placed in front of her.

Michael’d had the swagger of a cowboy when he’d walked over to where Alex stood. He’d invaded Alex’s personal space with confidence, his curls had tickled the side of Alex’s face when he’d bent forward and whispered into Alex’s ear.

“Hey darlin’, haven’t seen you in here before.”

The drawled endearment should’ve annoyed him, but Alex had flirted back.

“I’ve been here before, cowboy, but you were probably just too busy making out with your girlfriend to notice.”

“She’s my sister, not my girlfriend.”

Oh, his sister. That would explain the intimate body language between the two.

“So, how about you save a horse and ride a cowboy, Private?”

Alex had tilted his head back to look at the man with a raised eyebrow, silently communicating his faux annoyance at the atrocious pick-up line. He’d wondered how the man knew he was military, but then he’d remembered he was wearing an Air Force t-shirt and his dog tags underneath his open black leather jacket.

“Airman, actually. Does the macho cowboy swagger shtick ever get you laid?”

Michael had winked at Alex, and as if he was laying down a challenge, he’d asked:

“You wanna find out, darlin’?”

Alex had indeed wanted to find out, or more precisely, his dick had wanted to. Alex had texted his friends, had called an Uber and half an hour later they’d stumbled through the door of Alex’s apartment, lips locked in a searing kiss and hands groping, trying to get off too many layers of fabric as fast as possible.

The sex had been epic. Like two pieces meant to be together, their bodies had seemingly known exactly what the other wanted and needed, and when.

Alex hadn’t even had time to consider a mental breakdown when Michael had pulled Alex’s jeans down in one smooth move and revealed the prosthetic. Michael hadn’t flinched at the sight, he’d just looked up at Alex with heavy lidded, kind eyes.

“Is it okay if I help you take it off, or would you rather do it yourself?”

Alex had been too far gone in his need to get Michael’s mouth back on his dick, he'd just waved at Michael in a helpless gesture. Michael had taken a quick look at the leg, then he’d removed it with sure hands and had placed it on the floor beside the bed very carefully. He’d even removed the sock covering the stump of Alex’s right leg, then bent down and tenderly kissed Alex’s knee just above the stump. Alex’s heart had almost stopped at the intimacy of it. Michael had continued to leave a trail of kisses and teasing bites all the way up Alex’s inner thighs until his mouth had been back on Alex’s cock.

Alex knows it’s ridiculous and utterly pathetic, but it had been during those few precious moments that he’d felt like he was falling head over heels in love with Michael. That’s nonsense, of course, he’s not the type to fall in love with someone he’s only known for a couple of hours. He’s not the type to fall in love with anyone for that matter.

And yet he can’t help but notice the flutter of his heart when he thinks back to that moment. Suddenly, tears prick at his eyes. He hates how his brain is always so eager to turn a wonderful thing into something that will no doubt make him feel miserable, but before he has a chance to start a mental downward spiral, he hears Michael’s hoarse whisper from behind.

“Stop thinking, Private. It’s way too early for that. Close your eyes and sleep.”

Alex turns half around in Michael’s embrace and his lips meet Michael’s in a soft kiss.

“Okay.”

He feels Michael settle behind him, his arms still a warm and reassuring cage around Alex’s torso. Alex gives in and with the feeling of Michael’s soft lips pressed to the nape of his neck, he drifts off to sleep.

-----

When he wakes up what must be hours later, it’s light outside and the alarm on his bedside table tells him it’s past 7am. He can’t even remember the last time he’s been able to sleep past 6. He stretches carefully and notices with a certain delight, how pleasantly sore he feels. A smile tugs at his lips when he thinks about the "exercise” that makes him feel like he overdid it at the gym yesterday. Only, it’s so much better!

That’s the moment when Alex’s brain finally kicks in and he becomes painfully aware that he’s alone in his bed. He looks around his bedroom. The clothes Michael had pulled off of him in his rush to get Alex naked, have been folded neatly and placed on a chair by the window. Michael’s all denim outfit is nowhere to be seen, though.

Alex closes his eyes for a second to tamp down the disappointment. Michael’s gone. They had fun last night, sure, and the sex had been amazing. Best he’s had in years, if not the best he’s ever had. He’d felt a deep connection with Michael, almost like they’d known each other for years.

What if Michael’s left his number somewhere? Alex turns and searches his night stand for a note, but he only sees his phone. For a wild moment Alex wonders if maybe Michael had unlocked it with his fingerprint while he was asleep and added himself as a contact, but when he checks his phone, there’s nothing. Maybe Michael left a note outside of his bedroom? It’s not like he has pen and paper stored by his bedside.

Alex doesn’t really want to get up, but he’s curious. He fumbles under the pillow and pulls out a pair of pyjama pants he puts on. He doesn’t bother with the prosthetic, instead he grabs a pair of crutches leaning against the wall near his bed and pulls himself into an upright position. He stretches again. He feels so good, and yet he’s anxious that his brain will come up with a million reasons to feel shit about himself, and last night.

Before he can dwell on any more negative thoughts, he walks over to the door of his bedroom and opens it. He’s surprised to hear music playing in the kitchen at the other end of the flat. Maybe Michael turned it on while he got dressed and forgot to turn it off? Then Alex hears someone sing. Slightly off-key, but that’s definitely a man’s voice, belting out the lyrics to Taylor Swift’s Paper Rings.

When Alex enters his kitchen, Michael stands at the stove and stirs something in a pan. The man is a sight to behold. He's only wearing a pair of almost see-through white boxers and Alex’s mouth waters when Michael’s buttocks seem to clench to the rhythm of the song underneath the fabric. Alex remembers all too vividly how amazing it felt to drive into the tight heat between those cheeks. He blushes and coughs, and almost drops a crutch in his haste to cover his mouth with his hand.

When Michael hears Alex behind him, he turns around mid-chorus. He keeps singing.

“I’d marry you with paper rings.”

Alex can’t help himself, he laughs.

“Are you proposing?”

Michael holds the spatula like a microphone and sings at Alex, fluttering his lashes.

“Darlin’, you’re the one that I want.”

Then he drops the spatula on the counter, walks up to Alex and pulls him into a tight embrace. Their lips meet and for a while they’re very busy kissing each other thoroughly, morning breath be damned.

When Alex feels like he’s about to keel over, Michael pulls up a chair for him and places the crutches right beside it on the floor. Alex takes a seat while Michael turns down the volume of the music. Alex is still slightly shell-shocked and he looks at Michael with wide eyes.

“You... stayed.”

His voice is a bit wobbly, he’d been prepared for the disappointment of finding his flat void of any hint that Michael’d been here, instead Michael's still here, almost naked in his kitchen, making breakfast and proposing marriage to Alex. Well, sort of.

“Of course I stayed, darlin’. Would you rather I’d be gone by now? I can still leave if you want?”

Michael sounds insecure, and Alex can’t have that.

“God, no. I’m honestly so relieved you’re still here. You know, normally, I have a strict rule where no one sleeps over but I guess I forgot to mention that because I wake up and you’re making coffee in my kitchen, and I’ve just been wondering why you haven’t left yet?”

“I wanted to eat breakfast with you. And if you’re free today, I wanted to ask you out on a date?”

Alex is baffled.

“You’re asking me out on a date? But why?”

“Because I like you, Private. And while we are unbelievably compatible in bed, I’d like to do something other than finding new ways to make you come. Not that I don't want to continue doing that, don't get me wrong, I very much want to. Just. Call me old-fashioned, but I think it would be great to see whether our compatibility also applies to other aspects of spending time with each other, if that’s ok?”

The alarm on Michael’s phone startles Alex and spares him an answer. Michael twirls around to the stove and turns it off. Then he fills two plates with something steaming hot that looks like some kind of stew and smells utterly delicious. Alex’s stomach growls. Michael carries the plates over to the table where a thermos with coffee, two mugs, and cutlery are placed already.

“You don’t have milk and I didn’t feel like making pancakes with the creamer in your fridge, so I’ve made shakshuka instead. Hope you like it?”

“I love shakshuka. And coffee.”

Alex bites his tongue, because he wants to add “and you”.

“Next time I’ll make sure I have milk for pancakes, though, pancakes are my favorites.”

Michael places the pan in the sink, then he walks over to where Alex still sits on a chair in the middle of his kitchen. Michael goes down on his knees in front of Alex (and doesn’t that stir another deep desire in Alex) and pulls him in for a long and thorough kiss. When he pulls back just a fraction of an inch, he mumbles against Alex’s lips:

“Next time. I love the sound of that.”

#malex #malex fic #rnm fic #alex manes #michael guerin #roswell new mexico #my fic

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this-is-totally-plural · 4 years

Note

What's the difference between being distressed about your plurality and being disordered?

The short answer is: distress is one possible criterion for being disordered. It’s common, in the sense that most disordered plurals are distressed in some way, but it’s not technically a hard requirement. An important point as well is that distress is an internal measure, assigned by the system themselves, while disorderedness is a label imposed from outside.

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

The long answer is: Let’s take a look at the DSM-V. This book is the most recent categorization scheme for the diversity of human neurotypes. Certain ways a brain can be are classified as abnormal, and then they’re sorted according to common traits into labels that are designed to not overlap much. The DSM is by no means perfect or a reflection of absolute truth, but it’s a book that a lot of people in official positions refer to. DID, what’s usually meant by “disordered plurality”, is on page 292.

Point C there mentions “clinically significant distress or impairment in functioning”. That’s an important line that’s found in most diagnostic criteria these days, but it’s not the whole of the list. Point A says you have to be plural, and D and E are there to make sure it’s actually a brain thing and not something more mundane. The important parts are B and C.

(As a side note, just because we know what tumblr has historically been like, note that the mere presence of B and C implies that non-DID plurality exists. Also notice that plurality beginning by way of trauma is not a requirement.)

A body/brain which satisfies all five points can be diagnosed with DID and is thereby considered “disordered”. There’s also OSDD, other specified dissociative disorder, of which I’ve seen systems call themselves I believe the -1b subtype. However, when I looked in the DSM just now (page 306) it didn’t actually list subtypes with criteria, only some examples of a “reason that the presentation does not meet the criteria for any specific dissociative disorder”. It’s a bit of a catchall, so I’ll neglect it here.

Now, point C has an “or” in it. You can be distressed, or you can be fine with plurality in itself but acknowledge that parts of it are difficult to live with. That generally ties into point B, the amnesia. There are plenty of systems out there who don’t share memory between fronters, causing them impairment in functioning, but they could still consider themselves “not distressed” in the sense that they prefer being plural over hypothetically being a singlet.

So in that case at least, you can have a system that’s disordered but not distressed. For them, the ideal treatment would focus on reducing amnesia or building internal communication, until they eventually stop meeting the criteria and become a nondisordered plural system. Likewise you could see a system that’s distressed but not disordered, if they have no amnesia (so don’t satisfy point B) but perhaps have irreconcilable personal differences within the system and so being stuck in the same head together is distressing.

Of course, one could argue that “impairment in social, occupational, or other important areas of functioning” is itself distressing, and thus one half of point C implies the other. Under that definition, “disordered” would be a strict subset of “distressed”. But if you ask specifically about being distressed about plurality, then you can have cases meeting either word but not the other.

-- Asvoria ∈ Flamesong

#Anonymous

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pomrania · 6 years

Text

Mindflayer discussion

Below the cut is the transcription of a Discord conversation between @eyeloch, @absolxguardian, and me (Jan). I think we came up with some pretty good ideas about Underdark society and economy, although most of it was accidentally turning illithids into a combination of something like the Matrix, and vegans. I might take the ideas and make it into a neat post, later on, or I might not.

Excerpts:

Jan Okay, so when someone's at rock bottom, there's three "traditional" options. Selling your body (really unsavoury prostitution), selling your soul (fiends), selling your mind (illithids).

AbsolxGuardian for the last one, you would have to have hit super rock bottom, since you'd need to be in the underdark as well

Eyeloch Drow also provide spiders spiders are vital for the economy

AbsolxGuardian oohhh, what if that's the function of the elder brain in this world (because i hate hiveminds with rulers. that doesn't make sense)

Jan Elder brain, is that mindflayers?

AbsolxGuardian yep although i also like the idea of it being the server room of the hivemind

Eyeloch !!

Jan Okay. I don't think of that so much as a "hivemind with ruler", it's more like... the elder brain IS the "mind".

Eyeloch CLOUD COMPUTING

Jan Ooze computing.

Eyeloch THE ELDER BRAIN IS A SERVER FARM

Jan And then mindflayers are like black hat hackers?

Eyeloch hehehheheh ooooh

AbsolxGuardian .....mindflayer colony that's mining bitcoin

Jan YES

Eyeloch psychic bitcoins

Jan OH, and you can only use them when you're "plugged into" the brain server farm!

Eyeloch mindflayer shopkeeper that's cordial to PCs but only takes bitcoin assures them that any brain can generate them

AbsolxGuardian yes!!!

Jan Honestly, I think this Matrix-esque mindflayer concept is a lot better than their official lore.

Eyeloch I'm reminded of Logopolis, the last Fourth Doctor story

Jan And like, they don't so much EAT the brains for physical nourishment, as they extract it for future use as processing. ...which would then imply that a mindflayer vomits out a brain once it gets back home.

Eyeloch where block-transfer computations can literally affect reality as they're solved

AbsolxGuardian yeah! the brains could be doing calculations for psionic magic to generate things like food

Eyeloch like ants that collect leaf cuttings to farm fungus, but they collect brain cuttings to farm psionic energy

AbsolxGuardian they don't eat the brains, they use them as magic computers (i guess a naturally psionic species/being would be able to do it while remaining conscious) they could just be casting food generation spells

Jan Oh, and like a living person COULD like "loan" their brain out for a while, with it still being in their head... but they'd definitely be incapacitated during that.

Eyeloch malware left in brains

Jan Would probably take some psychic damage too, depending on how careful the mindflayers were.

Eyeloch and now I'm horrified

Jan And yes, the possibility of stuff like that being left in one's brain. Which means there's only two situations in which somebody would do this: a) they really trust the illithid in question b) they're desperate Now I'm imagining this as like, one of the last-resort activities people get up to, like certain forms of prostitution, or knocking over fantasy gas stations.

AbsolxGuardian ......wait so does that mean that the gith are just a matrix sequel (although I assume you would just be unconscious)

Jan And it's all technically legal. They know, getting into it, that it'll hurt, and they might not survive.

Eyeloch "Over time, overmind. . .over time, overmind. . .over ti-ti-time, overmind..."

AbsolxGuardian because standard lore says that after dragons and giants, it was the mindflayers that ruled the material plane

Jan Okay, so when someone's at rock bottom, there's three "traditional" options. Selling your body (really unsavoury prostitution), selling your soul (fiends), selling your mind (illithids).

AbsolxGuardian for the last one, you would have to have hit super rock bottom, since you'd need to be in the underdark as well

Eyeloch ...if you're an adventurer, selling your body may mean roughing people up

Jan Rock bottom LITERALLY heh.

Eyeloch but much the same

Jan Although, there's nothing stopping a mindflayer from being on the surface, aside from that it's far from their normal habitat. OH, maybe that's why it wants to borrow people's minds: because it doesn't have the normal "computing power" of an elder brain. It's running mobile instead of desktop. And there's a whole bunch of bipedal wifi stations walking about.

Eyeloch "Well, this is kind of. . .well it isn't an elder brain. More of an adolescent brain. It still helps, though!" omg parallel core computing = multiple mind psionics

AbsolxGuardian i can't believe both of my dnd sessions have bitcoin cause my dragonslayers one has spell slot based arcanecoin

Jan This reimagining could also make illithids feasible as allies, I think. If they don't require the DEATH of sentient beings to function, that could also put them at Lawful Neutral, with Lawful Evil tendencies because it's hard to view "humans" as "people" since they're so different.

Eyeloch this is amazing

AbsolxGuardian also they don't have to only eat psionic food, it's just the most practical in the underdark

Eyeloch together, we've made some great concepts

AbsolxGuardian heck, they're probably the breadbasket of the underdark

Jan Maybe illithids are strict herbivores when it comes to nourishing their physical forms. And "eating brains" doesn't have it go down the digestive tract, just to another internal place for storage.

Eyeloch oh gosh, talking about how they're vegan, while literally stealing brains :joy:

AbsolxGuardian YES!! now i'm thinking about the underdark economy, and i'd imagine duergar provide weapons and raw mined material. deep gnomes provide more precise and detailed products. mindflayers provide food. and drow provide slaves and "protection"

Jan Pffft, "You actually have to eat MEAT to FUNCTION? I'm going to take your brain, and you probably won't even notice that it's missing, you're already basically an animal."

Eyeloch Drow also provide spiders

Jan I love how we managed to turn mindflayers into both hackers and obnoxious vegans.

Eyeloch spiders are vital for the economy

AbsolxGuardian (in all seriousness, a tamed giant spider is basically a beast of burden)

Jan Even smaller spiders, there's spider silk. And if you can communicate with them, you can get stuff woven to order I suppose.

Eyeloch you could potentially make garments with almost no additional stitching required

AbsolxGuardian yeah, they provide fabric!

Jan Thinking of mindflayers, there was an idea I'd had a few months ago. Where they like, provided protection to a community, in exchange for a few brains once in a while. Kind of like an organized crime gang, I guess.

Eyeloch protection racket

Jan And there was also, like, you know Intellect Devourers? Those things like brains on legs? A smaller version of them, that were basically used for recreational purposes. To turn your brain off for a bit, like getting drunk. To clarify, this is what the humans in town did. Heh, I don't know whether it's sad or impressive that like, three nerds, talking over maybe fifteen minutes, can turn the Underdark into a functional economy, when Wizards of the Coast hasn't.

Eyeloch hello and welcome to the town of mindfuck

AbsolxGuardian i mean, they see the civilizations of the underdark as a lot more evil. we went in more of a "creepy harsh life"

Jan Yeah.

AbsolxGuardian although it is funny that the economy is in such perfect balance, because "conquer the surface and crush others underfoot" are on the long term priority list of drow and mindflayers now i'm imagining a vetinari-like drow having to reign in warmongering drow

Eyeloch the alignment of Stupid Evil can stifle effective ability to actually do evil

Jan Oh, the illithid-protection-racket idea: there's no beggars around, because they all get approached with "if you lend us your brain for a bit, and you survive, we'll make sure you have what you need to be set up afterwards". The people who don't take that offer, they're creeped out enough that they leave the area.

Eyeloch I love it OH HELL

Jan And like, there's a lot of visceral "this is horrible" reaction.

Eyeloch i d e a "Server farm"

Jan But the people who complain most about it, it's not like THEY were doing anything to help the beggars.

Eyeloch which is like battery hens, but with people with "useful" brains though, honestly, some mindflayers probably think that's wasteful since enrichment activities slow the degradation of the hardware, don't'cha'know

AbsolxGuardian oh are we going with each hive being a full hive mind and more of a single enity or just very community focused telepaths

Eyeloch hmmm, IDK

Jan "Enrichment", oh that's good. The latter idea would work better. And like, a strong enough mind can subsume all the others into it.

AbsolxGuardian that makes sense

Eyeloch corporate merger

Jan Oh, how about like there's some ideological splits along that line.

AbsolxGuardian so each elder brain is their internet server

Jan Whether it's better to have every body under one mind, or just have each body connected.

Eyeloch "Mindflayers. When you talk, we listen."

AbsolxGuardian yeah there might be a few all hivemind groups

Jan There's no real conflict between the hivemind vs non-hivemind groups. Maybe some verbal sniping, or "oh that's what you get for using that form" when one of them suffers damage.

Eyeloch just some passive aggression?

Jan But a pro-hivemind illithid doesn't work well in a non-hivemind group... and an anti-hivemind illithid will make the hivemind less functional, if forcibly added.

Eyeloch so much telepathic noise, and all the tiny disagreements stressing the hive-mind fan more and more for self-evident reasons!

Jan That's probably the biggest philosophical divide in mindflayer society. And like, they all feel that they're superior to other life forms, and the world would be a better place in charge. Just every mind has a different idea on how to do that, and if it should be done. Some think that non-mindflayers are enough of a mess that you shouldn't even bother with them, it's like cleaning out a stable with a dining fork. Don't try to take them over; even if you manage, it won't be fun.

Eyeloch "elves, gnomes and those others lot are fine to do their thing. Just I wish they'd go do that stuff somewhere else, you know?"

Jan Frick, what if illithids see "humans" (by which I'm including other humanoids) as animals, with all the variety that entails. As beasts of burden, as nuisances who need to be driven away, as scenery, as pets.... Most feel like it's not right to go out of one's way to hurt a humanoid, but if a few humanoids end up suffering to achieve illithid goals, it's not a big deal.

Eyeloch tie it back into the vegan thing from earlier!

Jan There's a few who actively try to protect humanoids. But they still see humanoids as "lesser" beings than illithids.

Eyeloch some would rather not see humanoid suffering, or directly benefit from it but in a kind of

Jan "I would NEVER extract a human's brain personally, but I'll buy one at the store." "Awww, look at those cute little dwarves, carving out a dwelling for themselves! It's almost like they're people!"

Eyeloch "we are superior beings, so we shouldn't sully ourselves with inferior creatures" vs "we are superior in every way, and humanoids are simply too inferior to realise the honour it is to help us in mind or body."

#gaming #not a reblog

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sagaciouscejai · 6 years

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prince of doom?

Sorry for the wait. It’s surprising how hard it is to structure a description of an aspect that’s literally associated with structure.

Princes are the active destruction class, meaning they can destroy their aspect or destroy things through their aspect.While the act of destruction is a pretty simple one to imagine applying to or through aspects and symbols thereof, removal or disruption of aspects are also within the purview of this class’ abilities. Princes are stoical and pragmatic people, barely emoting much beyond whatever their default expression is.

This is especially the case when they deal with their aspect, as they tend to shun and hide away integral parts of their self-image tied to it, reasoning it as unnecessary at best and harmful at worst. However, their ‘logic’ about the situation is more based in insecurity over reason, as it stems from some past experience in their lives where they incorrectly blamed their aspect for their misfortune. You can easily see that the player in question still feels some innate attachment and identity in the symbols and traits tied to those aspect, not throwing away things and still holding tight to aspirations and interests despite their inability to share it with others. Their weapon usually punctuates this very well, as it is the only weapon that a Prince has or uses prior to entering, and will still have some properties that can be linked to their aspect, even if the Prince underplays it.

Entering into the session should be the impetus for changing their mindset. To start, they should be placed into a land full of their aspect, which is on the surface level very threatening but should not reward the player for active aggression towards it. Instead, the main goal of this land is to make the user accept that the aspect is not as bad as they once found it to be, and to embrace it as a tool for their own disposal. While they will still be stoical, they will allow themselves to openly act with the traits linked to that aspect once again, and will be more inclined to experiment with weapons other than their iconic one. God Tiering is pretty simple stuff, as their powers manifest as very straightforward destructive channeling and removal of their aspect, regardless of source. Most other forms of beneficial manipulation of aspect, like aspect exchanging or stat altering, is probably pretty hard for them, but you really shouldn’t expect a puerile DPS to do much else beyond DPS.

Doom, on the other hand, is all about constraints. Doom is structure, stability, law, and order, made from a myriad of single restraints and conditions a functional system greater than the sum of its parts. On its most basic level, Doom is an aspect of a reaction, of a condition to be met and an outcome to be drawn from it when it does. It is every rule that enacts a punishment when it is broken, it is every bomb that explodes when its fuse is lit, and it is every single line of code that executes when its parameters are met. It is a rigid aspect, one that works within fixed states that most commonly manifest as binaries of 0 and 1, life and death, black and white, and so on. While not every code may have 2 states, like the numerous genetic code patterns that you see scrawled upon people’s homes, it is true that there is no gray area between a G, C, A, T, or any other letter that might be entered into that code. As Doom is so strict, it is also unforgiving, and deals out harsh punishment, death, and dismemberment for those who dare break its order. This is a necessity, since any code needs to be structured correctly in order to facilitate its purpose. A computer program with even the slightest error will cause any number of issues with its functionality, and genetic code with enough faults in its makeup can cause issues like cancer to arise. But Doom players are meant to take all these punishments in stride. Just as a programmer slaves to create a functional program and bear through every bug, freeze and crash that they can find, a hero of Doom can take the suffering and destruction of broken laws and faulty engineering to maintain and reconstruct stability.

While I am eager to string together my prose further, figuratively dancing around the subject of “mental stability” as it affects Doom players is not something I feel too comfortable doing. The brain of a person is just as much a system full of complex programming as it is maze of neural connections tied to Mind, and as such, the ‘stability’ of one’s own self can be directly tied to the amount of Doom they have within themselves. Commonly, when a Doom player lacks their aspect, either through the crossing of some unseen threshold that damages their brain from burnout, or they simply are born with certain dispositions that develop as they mature, they will have neurodivergencies that can be linked to their lack of ‘mental stability’. The implications of this can paint a pretty ableist depiction of mental disorders even if done well, simply due to how some classes manipulate their aspect. A thief stealing one’s ‘stability’ from others to make themselves a beacon of order makes for a horrifyingly toxic person, which I guess is par for course with Thieves but still a good note on how callously this system can treat . Beyond being a ‘stable’ person, people with an abundance of Doom are also naturally resilient people due to the sort of suffering and trauma they will endure. As well, they tend to be somewhat prophetic or have abilities that tend to be predictive in nature, which is most likely tied to them being connected to the structure of the universe, but just as easily can be tied to some ‘bug’ in their own mental programming if it isn’t a helpful ability.

With both of these pieces taken into consideration, a Prince of Doom would be an incredibly deadly offensive class that specializes in setting up traps. They would start off as very stoical and pragmatic as is expected, and they should be denying how mentally in control of themselves that they really are. They most likely had an experience earlier on in their lives that caused them to hide this sort of balanced personality away, alongside their interests and abilities linked to Doom. Despite this, their singular weapon of choice will have some qualities of Doom either in its background or its abilities, and they will have distinct prophetic visions that the Prince denies having or feels is coincidentally accurate. Chances are, any actual disorder they think they have is a misdiagnosis, like schizophrenia being attributed to their visions, or something that becomes more manageable or less pronounced with age or experience, which the Prince might not realize has made their condition easier to work around.

Regardless, once they enter into their session, the Prince will be forced to face their Doom. Literally, some symbolic representation of Doom will one of the two adjectives of their Land, and will manifest in a way that will seem incredibly threatening for this hero. They will try to destroy their aspect, but after learning that there is no benefit to doing such, will instead come to accept this Doom and utilize it as a tool and weapon in their arsenal. This trial will bring the Prince to realize and accept their resilient and ‘stability’, and by that the time they have God Tier they should have created more overtly Aspect-infused weaponry to use beyond their old standby.

As for powers, having the ability to literally destroy limitations and laws seems like a very useful skill if you wanted to launch something faster than light speed or allow dead selves to escape a dreambubble, even if the Prince gets the the whiplash from breaking them. More likely thought, they will simply unleash their abilities to destroy the constraints of other people and objects to leave them ‘unstable’ and weakened, even if not full destroyed. They can easily create the potential for cancer by wreaking havoc on one’s genetic code just as much as they could make the foundation of a building faulty in an instant. On the opposite side of things, they can channel their aspect into specific areas to create potentially deadly traps that activate at whatever the Prince decides, or just haphazardly spread Doom on an area to create minefields of Tumor-looking bombs. On a final note, these probably already had some knack with convincing others to disregard the law or to abandon their own pre-set limitations, and while Princes aren’t the subtlest in their ways, this should only become a more pronounced skill of theirs. They may be able to utterly rip down social structures with ease, even if doing so will probably brand them as a reprehensible anarchy-stoking demon as a consequence.

#asks #anonymous #homestuck #hiveswap #claspect #classpect #prince of doom #prince #prince class #doom #doom aspect

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inkandblade · 6 years

Note

Hello!! I love your work!! For the prompt thing, Stiles is used to his friend living in the apartment below him. He's still a little tipsy and forgets that death eyebrows Derek moved in downstairs, and breaks into Derek's place so he can make a greasy carb-loaded breakfast to share. If this is too involved maybe Derek waking up to Stiles drawing/writing on his back?

Stiles was being very quiet. Very, very quiet—as if he was hunting waaaaabits. He stifled a snort and felt his magic tingle out into his nose and fingers and feet to help muffle the sounds he was making. The floor in Jackson’s living area, unlike Stiles’ in the apartment above, was polished wood. Stiles slipped his shoes off and almost fell over as he bent down to put them as neatly as he could near the door. Jackson had a strict no shoes in the house rule.

Luckily he also had a Stiles makes the best breakfasts on the planet rule, and kept his fridge stocked accordingly. Who could say no to their handsome, magic upstairs-neighbour making them a handsome, magic breakfast on a Sunday morning?

Actually, someone who’d pulled last night could: Stiles screwed up his eyes and thought very carefully and reached his magic out towards the bedroom… Just one heartbeat. He managed to stop himself from crowing, ‘All is clear!’

Stiles couldn’t resist sliding in his socks towards the kitchen, though. He collided with the counter top with a resounding oomph. He didn’t manage to retain his snort this time, but he was pretty sure the sound didn’t travel; a Spark was an awesome thing to have when trying to hide your tipsy shenanigans—no matter how delicious—from a grumpy werewolf.

Stiles pulled the one of the blinds out a bit and saw that there was a tiny slip of sunlight just showing through the long lines of the high rises outside. He turned around and focused very carefully on the clock on the microwave. He had approximately fifty-five minutes to make his mom’s from-scratch hash browns, bacon, and chocolate-chip pancakes. The coffee machine for some reason looked different to the last time Stiles had broken in to cook breakfast, but it was set to the usual time.

Jackson was going to loooooooooove Stiles to the moooooon and back.

Stiles didn’t even try to stifle his giggles this time.

He did what he had to with the potatoes and extra fancy cheese, figured that the super-duper sourdough would make super-wonderful toast, and mixed a little extra something-something into the pancake batter in the form of a pick-me-up spell. Even if Jackson hadn’t had a big night last night, and even if he was still a bit of a prick, he worked hard. Even assholes deserved nice surprises sometimes. Stiles’ mom had always said that being kind didn’t hurt anyone.

Stiles set everything in the fridge to keep—naked as the Saran wrap wasn’t in its usual spot—then put his ass on one of Jackson’s stupid, designer kitchen stools and his head on the marble bench-top. It was far, far more comfortable than usual. Ten or fifteen minutes worth of sleep wasn’t enough, but it would do for now.

♠

The growl was expected, but didn’t sound right. Stiles opened his eyes and blinked into the morning sun and was certain that Jackson would have told him if he’d become an Alpha in the last couple of weeks. They hadn’t seen each other since the beginning of the month, but hell, that wasn’t the kind of thing you kept from someone who relatively-regularly broke into your kitchen.

It might have been the Alpha in the voice that cinched Stiles’ understanding, though. “Who the fuck are you?!”

But, really was it the voice? It was probably that this guy was, and no offence to Jackson ‘cause even if he was hot, and he was, he had nothing on this guy. Stiles sucked in a breath and tried to make his thoughts come back to something that resembled coherent. The hot Alpha in front of him was wearing designer jockey-shorts and a murderous scowl. It was entirely possible that Stiles was still quite drunk, because both of those things seemed absurdly sexy.

Stiles tried for a smooth introduction, but all that came out of his mouth was a squeak. The werewolf’s eyebrows rose in tandem and all of a sudden Stiles understood. He sat back a little too quickly and was lucky that the wards he’d put into the walls hadn’t been taken with all Jackson’s stuff—the magical safety-net righted him back onto the stool and Stiles was glad the counter was there between him and the Alpha.

He couldn’t understand how he’d forgotten that Jackson got that out-of-the-blue transfer to the other side of the country. Well, he could, but he couldn’t figure out how he was going to explain to hot-and-murderous-red-eyes that his magic sometimes fucked with his memory if there was tequila involved.

The Alpha was still glaring, but hadn’t moved, so Stiles decided he should probably try to speak again, before the guy did come closer.

“I’m,” Stiles swallowed as the Alpha wrinkled his nose. Morning-after-tequila breath was likely not an attractive thing to such a sensitive scent organ. “I’m your upstairs-neighbour, and I seem to have made what I’m hoping isn’t actually a fatal error.” One of the eyebrows dropped, just slightly. Stiles’ brain declared that a good sign. “Full disclosure. I’m a Spark. I set up the wards on this place for the previous tenant. We’ve known each other since kindergarten. I’ve been breaking in on every other Sunday morning for breakfast for a couple of years. The amount I drank last night,” the ‘wolf’s nostrils flared again, “must have short-circuited my brain? I honestly forgot there was no Jackson here to eat my happy-face pancakes and drool over my hash browns anymore.”

The Alpha’s stomach made a very distinct noise, and his eyes faded from red to something Stiles wished he could describe. The guy glanced at his stomach and back up again, a look of betrayal pinking his cheeks. He breathed in quickly and seemed to regain his composure, saying with a stone-like face, “It’s your magic in the walls.”

That was possibly, Stiles thought, supposed to be a question. He should at least make an attempt to answer it.

“Yes. Wards. It’s what I do for a living. I can have them removed for you?” It was not something he should be doing after someone moved into a place, it usually had to happen before someone moved in, or they wouldn’t be able to stay in the apartment or house. That, well. That confused Stiles enough that he felt his brain starting to try to claw its way out from underneath the remaining fog of the alcohol.

If the Alpha hadn’t had the old wards removed, he shouldn’t be able to be here. If he had had them removed and replaced, then Stiles shouldn’t have been able to break in.

Stiles reached out with his magic again. They were definitely still his wards, and they hadn’t been altered. The Alpha huffed and Stiles realized that he must have his drunk thinky-face on.

“Don’t hurt yourself.” The Alpha looked far too amused for Stiles’ liking. If the wards on this place had failed and Stiles couldn’t feel that, then he had a major, major problem. “Hey,” the guy had taken a step closer and was waving a hand in Stiles’ direction. His nostrils were flaring in and out. “Breathe. I’m not going to hurt you, and there is nothing wrong with your wards.”

That snapped Stiles out of it, but not enough to form a coherent sentence. “But—”

“Jackson Whittemore is my cousin. He was born human, and then bitten by my Alpha mother.” He paused a few moments, possibly to let that sink in, then restated, “We share both our bloodline and biteline. That’s why your wards haven’t caused me any problems.”

This time Stiles’ brain caught up with what was being said. He breathed out a sigh of relief and decided not to dwell on the fact that the Alpha’s nose screwed up again. Instead, Stiles decided he should probably introduce himself.

“I’m Stiles Stilinski.” He swallowed and figured that he should try to exit, stage-left, as quickly as he could. He let his mouth move as quickly as it would. “I’m very sorry for breaking into your apartment, and I promise I won’t do it again. I made pancake batter and cheesy-hash browns. The spell on the pancakes is benevolent, I swear. The potato should be fried in a mixture of butter and olive oil or they won’t taste right. I’ll replace everything, I promise.” He glanced back at the fridge. “I will need to know where to buy that cheese, though, ‘cause I have no idea.”

“You made hash browns with Cacio Bufala?” The Alpha, who Stiles still didn’t know the name of, blinked like a stoned owl. He didn’t actually look angry, though, just incredulous.

“I,” Stiles hoped his smile looked sincere, not snarky. “Yes?”

The guy laughed, and Stiles really, really wanted to know his name now. He had the most amazing smile, and his eye were lit up with something other than the Alpha power they’d had before. The fact that the man was basically naked wasn’t helping any—chiselled abs and power-house thighs and a thick treasure trail and lickable clavicles, and that was all without thinking about the dude’s face. Any moment now the guy was going to smell Stiles’ arousal over the stink of his morning-after-tequila breath. The guy twisted around as he reached for another one of the blinds and shit.

The tattoo on the guy’s back. Jackson’s Alpha was Talia Hale. Talia Hale only had one son. Stiles’ brain was definitely in danger of exploding. The man in front of him was pretty famous. He was an Alpha because he had, at the age of fourteen, ripped out the throat of the guy who’d tried to assault his older sister. Stiles was, quite possibly, lucky to be alive. Then again, the traitorous part of his brain supplied, Jackson always maintained that his cousin was a fluff-ball in disguise, once you got to know him. Stiles always assumed that Jackson was down-talking the guy ‘cause he was jealous of his cheekbones or something.

The Alpha turned back and sniffed again just as the coffee machine beeped that it was ready. He flicked his eyes down over Stiles’ stale clubbing outfit and back up, hovering a moment over Stiles’ neck. “I’m going to get you a cup of wake-up coffee, and then you are going to make me pancakes and absurdly expensive hash browns, and once we’re eating you can tell me more about the wards. If the food’s good enough, I won’t have you spell yourself out of them.”

Stiles nodded and managed to squeak out, “Deal.”

“I’m Derek, by the way.”

♠

Expensive cheese name brazenly lifted from a Mental Floss article. Prompt me or Tempt me.

#Prompt me or Tempt me #Prompt!Fic #Sterek #EternalSterek #Prompt me or Tempt Me 02

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clashofthekhaleesi · 4 years

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Years and years ago, in a small thicket just over the next hill and through the woods beyond the horizon, there happened to be the site of a horrid and horrible incident. There have always been talks of what happened that day, some have heard the story whispered to them while walking alone in the woods, others have heard the story quietly hissed on the wind. There are some that remember that day, others that just remember hearing the screams, and still to this day, some that are here to tell the story of what happened in that small thicket hidden in the woods. I am one of those that still tells the story to those who want to know the truth of what really happened that day. For those who can really hear. Do you want to know the truth? The sun was just beginning to warm the dirt as it rose in the eastern sky on that cool autumn day. The sun’s rays reached out to the tips of the small grasses that littered the forest floor and stood guard over the roots of all the trees in the thicket. I remember the feeling of the sun warming me as I stood proud in the forest I had grown up in. My family had lived in these parts for centuries and it was the only home we’d ever known. My grandfather still lived across the thicket and he was sure to look after his family that never moved far from his wisdom and protection. My grandfather was strict. “Stand tall!” he’d say. “Don’t slouch!” he’d remind us. My grandfather always stood tall and proud to set a good example for all of us. He had been alive for far longer than any of us and he had developed a connection with nature that allowed him to speak to the forest, the bugs, and the earth. His wisdom was far greater than anything else in the forest and he talked with the trees daily. The sun’s rays were still low in the sky and they created long shadows that crept across the thicket and into the clearing. For those that can sense these special things, someone like my Grandfather let’s say, there are signs in nature that warn us or lead us in certain directions. That morning was one of those days that the signs were everywhere. A cold wind blew from the north, turning the leaves of the trees down instead of up. The dew that dripped from the leaves and fell to the water’s surface below made small bubbles that sat on the surface. More than these signs though, was the bluish gray haze that rose in the air just on the outset of the thicket. The haze and the deafening roar that echoed off the tree trunks brought all of us to attention. My Grandfather stood his ground in expectation of what all of these signs could mean. The next thing we heard still makes my body go stiff and rigid. It was a shrill and horrid scream from one of our neighbors to the north. The screams echoed through our bodies and hit us like a whirlwind! First it was one scream, then many screams, all breaking the peacefulness of that autumn morning. The next thing we witnessed was the inhabitants of the nearest village running in our direction with fear in their wide eyes. Their heads swung back and forth wildly looking for a place to hide from the coming evil that slowly made its way toward our village. A high pitched squeal, silence, then an enormous crash made the liquid in my body stop and run cold. There was something headed our way! Slowly emerging from the woods was a small red vehicle that bounced across the tree roots and rocks that littered the ground between us and it. A head came out of the driver’s side window and let out a loud “Yeeehaw!” that made everything in its path cower. That was, everything but my Grandfather, who stood proud and strong in between this red rolling beast and all of us. My Grandfather had sensed them coming hours earlier and had been preparing to protect his family. The red car slowly rumbled to a stop and both the driver’s and passenger’s door swung open. A clumsy foot covered in a mid calf sock and oversized frumpy shoe stepped out onto the warm dirt ground. As the rest of the leg made it’s way out of the vehicle, the whole person came into view. Their frumpy shoes were connected to hairy legs that were covered by a pair of red and blue shorts that were a bit too short and white tank top that fit just a touch too tight around their chubby stomach. The passenger was dressed the same except for the greasy hand prints that covered their shorts and mid torso. The strangest thing about their appearance was their overly long arms that made their knuckles appear to almost drag on the ground. “Whoooeeee, you’re ours now! Don’t try getting away now, ya hear!” they hollered in our direction.

My Grandfather silently whispered that we were in trouble. These two neanderthals had bad intentions and we were what their bloodshot eyes were set on. They wanted our thicket but it wasn’t going down without a fight! My Grandfather had been preparing for a battle ages ago and had collected weapons to defend our thicket from outsiders. The outer area of the thicket was surrounded by Hawthorns that were sure to tear some flesh from the pea brains that were eyeing us up. Under the Hawthorns was a thick row of Multi-floral roses that would snag clothes and skin where the Hawthorns had missed. Multiple holes among the roots were ready for an unsuspecting ankle or leg to slip inside ending in the sickening snap of broken bone. Grandfather had been prepared for this! The hairy knuckle draggers stumbled to the back of the vehicle where they proceeded to ingest 2 cans of a golden liquid that stunk of bitter hops and barley. Next they grabbed 2 chainsaws out of the hatch near the back of their vehicle. Each grabbed the saws, picking them up and then dropping them down while pulling a cord attached to the side. After many ups and downs, many swear words yelled, finally the saws roared to life with the chains spinning at a tremendous rate right near their hair and short covered legs. What was their plan with these roaring weapons of spinning steel and plastic? “Let’s get 'em!” hollered Doofus 1 to Doofus 2. The words, “Stand proud, don’t slouch” echoed inside of me as I stood my ground and waited for these 2 nature haters to get into the first step of our trap. Sure enough, Doofus 1 started cutting into the nearest Hawthorn that blocked the way between our village and their rumbling red bucket of rust. The Hawthorn teetered one way then another before finally succumbing to gravity and falling in the complete opposite direction than what the “tree cutter” had expected. To the horrible surprise of Doofus 2, the Hawthorn fell onto his back with it’s long thorns piercing his skin. The howl that echoed through the forest rivaled that of the roar of Doofus 1’s chainsaw! Doofus 2 rolled out from under the thorny tree, looking like a bloody pincushion that had been drenched in white trash and lagers. The yelling match and line of profanities that ensued between Doofus 1 and Doofus 2 was one I’d rather forget than have to recite.

After the bickering ended, the Doofus Twins started stomping through the hole they’d made by killing the Hawthorn. Just as they made it over the trunk, they were caught up in the Rose bushes that tore at the exposed hairy skin of their legs. Howls and hollers echoed through the thicket as they fought their way to the other side of the hedge. The next step was a doozy as their glassy alcohol fueled eyes tried to navigate a path through the potholes and leg breakers made up of all the twisted roots leading up to where I stood. After multiple tumbles, curse words and bruised shins, they slowly raised their heads in my direction. “You’re all ours now sucker!!!” they screamed in a fury as they started to ascend the mass of roots, rock and dirt that I stood atop. As the “tree cutter cousins” came within feet of me, I could feel the hot air of their lungs pumping out from the steep climb to where I held my ground. They revved the engines of their saws in hopes of intimidating me with the high pitched scream of the 2 stroke motor and the acrid taste of the smoke in the air. “Stand proud!” my Grandfather’s voice screamed inside of me! Slowly Doofus 1 brought the tip of his revving chainsaw within millimeters of me. I could feel the hot bar oil spraying on me as the spinning teeth crept ever closer. I could only stand my ground hoping to protect all of those that stood behind me. Just as the screaming chain started to peel into me, I heard a creaking sound that could mean only one thing. My Grandfather was making the legend come true! The legend of “Sudden Limb Drop!” Just as the chain broke through my bark and started its way into my phloem, a massive limb fell from my Grandfather’s side, crushing both of the knuckle draggers into the now warmed dirt of the earth.

Slowly the echo of the chainsaw’s roar quieted and the leaves finally settled after the huge crash of the limb. The knuckle draggers were goners at this point and the forest floor slowly sucked their bodies into the ground to be eaten by microorganisms and other creatures of the forest. My Grandfather shot up suckers from his roots that quickly grew around the rust bucket that the “tree cutters” would no longer need. The car was trapped between all of the suckers as a warning sign to the next nature haters that would try to come to cut down our family of Oaks that had stood in this grove since before they were born. This was our thicket and no one was going to come in and take us down.

This story has long been passed through our forest as a warning to other thickets to stay vigilant to those who step foot into our sacred stretches of earth. My Grandfather’s ever stretching mycorrhizal network stretches further than any other tree in our forest and his ability to warn others is paramount with that of a god. Maybe if this story makes its way into the hands of the humans who threaten our way of life, they will learn it’s a much smarter idea to walk through the woods and be one with nature instead of trying to overtake it!

Hopefully you got some enjoyment out of this story at the expense of Doofus 1 and 2. If you are interested in the actual ability of trees being able to communicate with each other, be sure to read Peter Wohlleben’s national bestseller The Hidden Life of Trees: What They Feel, How They Communicate - Discoveries from a Secret World.

Happy Halloween!

via Bartlett Arborist Supply: Blog Posts

#IFTTT #Bartlett Arborist Supply: Blog Posts

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dvbermingham · 4 years

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Chapter 5: Toro

This time, we were led down a different set of stairs, no aquarium set in the walls. It was as though the hall and stairs had been swapped out. Though I didn’t feel submerged, I still felt a slight concern that I somehow stumbled into the Eschquarium itself.

We reached a door at the bottom of the stairwell leading to Senju’s office. It was stiflingly hot, like the inside of a microwavable pizza snack. Senju offered Matsuzaka a seat across from his desk. On Senju’s lap rested a sea turtle, which he stroked lovingly, caressing it’s flippers, tapping its shell to inspect its integrity.

Behind Senju were two men, both seated, both calm as soup. One wrote in a little hand-held journal. I took a position at the back against the wall. Senju’s men didn’t seem to notice anything in the room had changed from before we entered.

“We haven’t had a chance to chat, Mr. Matsuzaka. I’m very happy you’ve chosen to accept the position. I like to refer to it as daiymo, an older term, perhaps, but still relevant. As you well know, the world of sushi, is ultimately a feudal one. Strict hierarchies, fealty to the lords who reign up on high. Those who exist in the restaurant industry tend to thrive in such relationships.” Senju eyed his new subordinate, stroking his turtle all the while. “A fascinating creature, is it not? Don’t worry, it won’t drown. It can live up to seven hours outside the water. Can you live both inside and outside of water, Mr. Matsuzaka?”

“No sir, unfortunately not.”

“If I were to throw you in the ocean and ask you to hold your breath, would you do it?”

“Yes sir.”

“How long would it take you to drown?”

“About one minute sir. Maybe two.”

“That’s what I thought. It takes an amphibious creature to run a sushi empire. You cannot be able to swim with the fish, then come back to land without forgetting how to breathe the air. You must live underwater and above water.”

“Yes sir.”

“For instance, if your eyes were as astute as mine, if your gills were at all part of your body, if you were an amphibian, you might go for a swim out from the shores of Battery park, swim for a mile or so along in the southeastern direction and see through the muck and the spillage and the dead things and the poo and notice about two dozen bodies suspended from the floor of the harbor, their feet tied to large stones or cement. You would still have the stamina to inspect closely, see any scars around their necks, any stab wounds in the abdomens, all the tiny mutilations I’m so fond of. And most of all, you would not be afraid, because amphibians don’t have fear. Why don’t amphibians have fear?”

“Um, because, sir, they are animals.”

“Animals can’t fear?”

“No?”

“Are we not animals?”

“Yes.”

“Mr. Matsuzaka…I do not like contradictions. Which is it?”

“Which is what?” squeaked Matsuzaka.

“Amphibians don’t have fear because they’re fucking ancient! Ancient things don’t think we way we do. They only care about two things: eating and fucking. What a life!

“Ah.”

“Look at George. Look at his face. Look how calm he is, even in this strange place”

The turtle flailed.

“Don’t you feel a kinship with him? I’m certain we are related. Far far back, in the days of the mudskipper. When we were amphibious! Can you imagine? Maybe someday people will revert back to their amphibian brains. Then we would truly get something accomplished here, eh!?” “I look forward to serving you, sir.”

“Enough bullshit. I am here to talk about Ersatz. The fat fuck de facto leader of the Partition. Have you ever spoken with him?

“No sir.”

“Have you ever met him?”

“No sir.”

“Are you sure?”

“Almost, sir.”

“Ersatz is the most dangerous man in New York City. He is responsible for countless terrorist attacks on our restaurants, and quite likely even his own, of course only through his blaming the attacks on the guild does he drum up resentment against the Guild. He is often seen dining at the restaurants the night before they’re destroyed. A hideous display of arrogance, if you ask me…nothing more than a fetish. Though he’s quite fat, he squeezes into spaces like a thin man. Rarely does the chef recognize him. That’s how he could so ostentatiously flay Takuto.”

“So…you need him killed?”

“Ha! Please,” Senju rose from his seat, taking his turtle with him, stroking atop the head. “I’ve been trying that for years. Besides, that’s a little advanced for a man so new to the position. I’m just explaining that this man is your enemy. That he is out to destroy that which you have sworn to protect. No, your job is to maintain our network of chefs and their Neo-feudal fealty to the Guild and hence the Imperial Sushi Council. Your job is to provide them with the most highly regarded tuna money and power can buy. You!” Senju had suddenly directed his eyes towards me. “Where is your tuna?”

“Right over there, sir.”

“Don’t leave it there. Pick it up!”

“Sorry sir.”

“What’s your name?”

“Lou Mastiff sir.”

“Lou Mastiff. Strong name for a strong fellow. You come from a long line of strong men?”

“I don’t recall sir.”

“Well was your father strong?”

“Yes sir.”

“Were your uncles strong?”

“Yes sir.”

“Was your grandfather strong?”

“He got polio in his twenties, but before that I think he was.”

Senju grimaced. “Polio, eh?”

“I think so sir.”

“Good. Now guard that tuna. And don’t let it drip on you. It’s making a mess.” Senju went to the corner and placed the turtle in a clear plastic box that extended out from the wall. He closed the door and pressed a button, and the turtle was vacuum-sucked into the depths of the building, back to its makeshift habitat.

“I don’t mean to redirect the conversation without your consent, Boss Senju, but if you would allow me to speak freely, I would like to express some concerns.”

The boss sighed, and returned to his desk. “You may.”

“I am a chef. I work well with others who have been in the restaurant business, who have worked in kitchens, who understand what is expected of them. I have experience with violence, as any chef, but I am unfamiliar with politics. I don’t know much about the guild, other than what Takuto had taught me, but he didn’t have much time to teach."

“What is your point?

“My point is I’m worried I’m being set up to fail.”

“Set up to fail? As in…I want you to fail? That it is my intention for you to fail?”

“I just mean, perhaps you are desperate for someone to fill the vacancy, and I am your last resort. And as such, I’m destined to fail.”

“You’re destined for something…” he murmured. Then, after taking some time to think, he spoke:

“Do you know why I hire Sushi chefs as my regional bosses?”

Matsuzaka shook his head.

“Because to be a great sushi chef, you must appreciate the details, however small, of every individual action. You must see, more precisely than anyone else, the ways in which our actions weave a tapestry of experience that extend beyond the immediate. The faintest expression of citrus, the finest brushstroke of shoyu, the complement of temperatures between rice and fish — a sushi chef aspires to create food as perfection. The wild tuna alive at sea is a being of supreme lineage, a creature out of time and space, at once consuming and consumed by the primordial ocean, found now on display for your customer, form from the formless. And let us not ignore the symbolism of the rice, the chais-lounge for the ocean divine, resting in seductive curvature before it’s final journey. Then, as surely as the cycle of birth and death, the sushi is devoured, gone, the height of experience suddenly and forever in the past. The sushi chef knows his work is never complete. What he creates is swiftly destroyed, and so on and so on. He will never reach the end because man’s hunger is never sated. The hunger returns again and again, day after day, and the chef abides. The chef is the conduit between desire and offerings, between the ocean and the land. The chef is the Amphibious.

“I fully understand, Boss Senju.”

“There is simultaneous simplicity and complexity in everything we do, depending on how you chose to perceive it, how well your eye is trained to pick up on the details. A murderous villain is every bit as complicated or as simple as a perfectly executed nigiri.”

“Clarity is could not be greater.”

“We are all asked to do things we haven’t done before, or we have no interest in doing. We do these things because of this little thing called destiny. Your decisions up until this point in you life, like it or not, have landed you in my office at this very moment, precisely at the time when I need someone like you to set their mind to a task and execute. You do believe in destiny, don’t you Mr. Matsuzaka?”

“Once in a while.”

“Good enough.”

“Well, in that case, if perhaps I could get a small overview of what the situation is, so I can do a better job of figuring out the best way to handle it?”

“What, like an oral history of this guild and the Imperial Sushi Council and all the rest?”

“I guess that would be helpful. Sure.”

“Well, I don’t know if I have time for that. There are quite a few turtles swimming around inside the walls of this place that need my attention. They find areas that aren’t especially clean and often difficult to escape. I do however have some historians and biographers on the payroll. I’m sure they can help you out. Steve!”

One of Senju’s men jolted awake. ”Yes boss.”

“Get Mr. Matsuzaka something to read about our Guild, would you? An overview of some kind? Anything?”

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gloriousnewera · 7 years

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Rehab

Rehab was so strange. I wrote in my journal only a few times while I was there but I wish I would have written every night. It is unlike anything I have ever experienced and unlike anything I imagine I’ll ever experience again. I randomly remember things that happened but there is so much that happened. I remember the first week I was there I was in detox. When you are in detox you don’t go to any classes or do anything other than lay in your bed and watch TV. I did that for four and a half days. It was miserable. I was miserable. I couldn’t sleep at all and I remember the other people in detox kept watching hours and hours of the show impractical jokers. They took my blood pressure and temperature every four hours in detox. They would wake me up at midnight and 4 am. I made friends with this boy named Alex. He had a crush on me. The last night I was in detox he gave me part of the medicine they were giving him to help him sleep. They would have given it to me but I was too scared to ask for it. I wanted to pretend I was tough. He would sneak me part of his medicine almost every night until he left. If they would have caught him we both would have gotten kicked out. It was stupid and I should have just told them I needed it but oh well. I was only averaging 2 to 3 hours of sleep my first week. After I got out of detox we were on a strict regimen. We were watched 24/7 by staff and cameras. We could not leave the building. We could only talk on the phone for 5 minutes at a time. We were only allowed 3 calls the first two weeks and 5 the last week. I didn’t call anyone for 7 days. We had to get up around 630 am and had breakfast at 7:15 and then at 8 we had morning group where we would all go around and say how many sober days we had and how we felt. I often said anxious. After that we would all line up and get our medicine one by one. They would hand it to us and watch us swallow it. We would then have classes the rest of the morning. We ate lunch at 11:45 until 12:15. We would often go for a walk around a park near the facility after lunch. I remember passing by normal people and feeling so weird because we were clearly an odd group of people following around an aid who would yell at us if we walked too far away from her. If it was rainy outside we would do these weird workout videos for 30 minutes in a room. We would have more classes then eat dinner and usually go to a meeting. They never told us what meetings we would go to because someone could call a friend and tell them to meet them there with drugs. We would go to AA meetings and NA meetings. We were not allowed to listen to any music because I guess certain songs and music can trigger emotions that make people want to drink or use. It felt like mild torture for me. Sometimes the aids would let us listen to music during our van rides to the meetings. They usually picked some top 40 radio station. I remember everyone would just sing songs and were so happy when we were riding in the van. It almost seemed normal to us and like we weren’t in rehab being driven in a van by an aid watching our every move. My roomate Tesha and I would list songs we were going to listen to once we got out. She would sometimes sing me the ones I wanted to hear. They would also take us to a gym on fridays. They had aids at both doors making sure none of us left the basketball area. We played kick ball and basketball. Everyone looked forward to gym day. I didn’t really understand it until about my 3rd or 4th week and then I too got excited. It is weird how your brain can adjust to situations. Never in my life would I think I would be looking forward to gym day in rehab but I guess it’s how we deal with things and have to find things to look forward to. Each day was pretty much non stop until 9:30 at night. We were constantly supervised and had classes up until then. At 9:30 they would feed us a snack which was usually a granola bar or sometimes popcorn. We barely had any breaks in between things. I would always rush to the cafeteria and get coffee. It was always so hot so in my first week the veterans (people who had been there more than a few days) showed me a trick of using the ice cube machine to cool it down. I would then pass this information on to the next clueless coffee drinker. It was weird how that worked. People just would start doing something and everyone else would follow. When someone left everyone would sign a piece of paper and wish them luck or write a funny memory of them down and write their phone number down. It was almost like a year book. It wasn’t a requirement or anything the aids told us to do. We just did it. We all wanted each other to do well. The very last morning you were there we would have group and read a few things that were written out loud to the person that was leaving. It was pretty special really.

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regular-lord-reckoner · 7 years

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We Need to Talk About Kevin, I Mean Otayuri

Alright, so let’s talk about Otayuri, age of consent, pedophilia, and abusive relationships for a minute. (This is gonna get long, but please bear with me)

So, like most issues that exist, you’ve got people on at least two pretty distinct sides (and a bunch that fall somewhere in the middle).

There are those who feel like the shipping of these two is absolutely, completely wrong for a variety of reasons and those who feel like the shipping of these two is absolutely, completely a-okay for a variety of reasons.

So, let’s talk about some of those and I’ll share with you my perspective on the situation, shall we?

Obviously one of the biggest issues that comes up is the age of consent. When talking about these characters in particular it becomes a little tricky because they both come from different countries and the show itself is Japanese.

According to a little research, the age of consent for both Russia and Kazakhstan is 16. For Japan it’s 13 (which…yikes on bikes).

Now, this becomes important because there’s a lot of speculation about how to view the ages of both characters.

In terms of where the show itself has left off, where season one ended, Yuri was still 15. His birthday is at the beginning of March and so it’s assumed that unless the show decides to go back in time, if/when we get a season 2 he’ll be 16 (although if the show picks up literally where it left off he’s probably still 15 and I’d guess maybe two months out from 16? It’s hard to tell. Yuuri’s hair has gotten longer in the last shot, so we know at least some time has passed since December, but it’s unclear how much. Chances are, though, being that the show itself took place in essentially real time, by the time a second season is out we’ll have passed that point and hell, Yuri may even be 17 by the time we get another season, who knows.)

Otabek’s age is a little more unclear. Several times in the show his age is listed as 18 until towards the end of the season where Celestino says he’s 19. Otabek’s birthday is at the end of October and although a great deal of time passes from the beginning of the season to the end (Yuuri mentions something along the lines of “I can’t believe it’s already been 8 months…”) during Viktor’s narration which takes place in December he says Otabek is 18, so we didn’t pick up another birthday for him, therefore I’m more inclined to think he’s actually 18 and that Celestino was just mistaken or perhaps it was an accident on behalf of one of the writers.

But so essentially we’re dealing with a 15/16 year old and an 18/possibly 19 year old.

Now, first off something I’ve noticed from the opposed side is that they tend to cite American laws of consent, but there is an issue there and that is that American laws of consent are not the same across the board, but rather determined by state.

In the US, consent is set anywhere from 16 to 18 years of age with the most common being 16 years of age. Obviously then this makes it hard trying to apply American law to this situation because neither character lives in America and therefore we can’t say, “Oh, well Otabek is from New York, so the age of consent for him would be 17!”

That being the case, I think it’s more appropriate to use their own countries as what we hold them to in legal terms, because different countries have different ideas and laws about other behaviors as well that are considered “for adults only” such as drinking, driving, voting, buying cigarettes, renting a car, etc., etc.

So, as it would stand right now, if we’re to take the view of Yuri still being 15 because that’s where the show left him, then yes, a relationship between he and Otabek would not be okay in either country as he is under the age of consent.

By the time the show comes back, though (and lord I hope it does) Yuri will likely be 16 and therefore legally able to consent.

Now listen…I don’t like the idea of a 16 year old having sex as much as the next guy. I think that’s too young, I think that age is too immature to really handle something like that, but I teach sex ed to middle and high schoolers and I know better. They’re doing it.

Fortunately, last I checked (and this is American statistics but still) only like 47% of high schoolers are sexually active, which is less than half. And if I’m not mistaken, I think it’s actually lower than that now, so that’s somewhat good news!

Also, teen pregnancy rates have been on the decline over the past few decades, although they’re still not great they are going down. Unfortunately, however, teen STD rates are going up.

Of the 20 million new STD cases reported each year, about half are from young people ages 15-24.

So, whether we like it or not, these little fuckers are out here boning down on each other and they’re not being particularly careful about it either, which is discouraging, but part of why I do what I do.

Unfortunately, however, in the state in which I work there are very strict laws about sex education, specifically that we’re to promote abstinence emphatically and exclusively and that we cannot promote the use of contraceptives and birth control and may only give medically accurate information about such if a student asks a question about them in good faith (which means they don’t ask just to get a rise out of me or the class).

These laws are born, I think, out of this mindset that a lot of adults have that sex isn’t for teens and therefore they should only be given the bare minimum amount of information, lest you inadvertently encourage them to become sexually active. (This mindset, btw, is also what I believe drives adults to deny kids and teens the validity of their gender identity and sexual orientations, although the situations are not quite the same the underlying idea of a teenager being too young/too immature to be able to handle/know about certain things is of the same thread.)

And again, like…in some part I agree. I teach these kids, I see how a lot of them still can’t handle having a mature conversation about puberty and am horrified every time one of says they think the “pull out method” is an effective way to prevent pregnancy (joke’s on you, kid, it’s actually the way most teens end up getting pregnant!)

If I had it my way, I’d give these kids some coloring books and juice boxes and sit their asses in front of cartoons all day long because the older you get, the more people younger than you look like infants. Hell, even by my senior year of high school I was looking at freshman thinking, “You’re just babies, what are you doing here??? Who let you out of daycare?!?!?”

I also had a 15 year old insist to me that her personality is going to stay the same for the rest of her life and that she’s pretty much already matured as much as she’s ever going to and I just…I hated to be “that adult” but I had to gently point out to her that while for the most part, yes, her personality may stay more or less the same that her brain hasn’t even finished growing.

You don’t reach full brain development until around your mid-twenties and one of the last things to fully develop is your prefrontal cortex area which is responsible for things like personality, decision-making, and impulse control. Y’know, things we tend to think of younger people struggling with.

That being said, I’m not one of these people that thinks teenagers are just sacks of jumbled hormones who can’t be trusted with any level of responsibility and who have no levels of maturity whatsoever. That’s certainly not true.

A lot of kids at that age slowly begin to take on responsibilities like learning how to drive, how to manage their own money, and maybe even have a part-time job, as well as already looking into higher education or which field of work they’d like to enter once they graduate.

Teenagers do possess a certain capacity for these things and so I’m not writing them off entirely, I’m just saying I can sympathize with those who look at them and think, “God, you’re so young, though, you shouldn’t be trusted with something so important…” because it’s hard not to look back at your own youth and think, “Wow, I really thought I had it all figured out then, but I didn’t know shit!”

(Then again, I still do assert that I was pretty mature for my age. While of course I wasn’t completely there, I was more mature than what you’d expect from a typical teenager, although perhaps I��m a little biased in saying so, who knows.)

So, okay, we’ve established that we understand why some people can’t fathom the thought of teens who are sexually active, I gotcha, I’m right there with ya. But again, I think we need to be realistic and come to terms with the fact that, like it or not, they are.

If at age 16 Yuri decides to become sexually active, I may not like it, but he will legally be able to consent and his behavior wouldn’t be some drastic deviation from the norm. If he were to live in America, he’d still be in that less than half percentage of those who are, but it’s still pretty close to half and therefore not really that unheard of.

From a legal standpoint, then, at age 16 there’s nothing technically wrong. He’s well within his rights at that point. At 15, no, but 16, yes.

Now, I see a lot of people from the in favor side who are very transparent about the fact that they wouldn’t ship Yuri and Otabek together until Yuri’s 16 anyway, some saying not even until he’s 18 or until they’re both in their twenties because they want these characters to have time to get to know one another as friends first and then perhaps something romantic will develop as time goes on. This is also in conjecture with the idea that just because two people are dating doesn’t automatically mean they’re having sex, and in fact, I’ve seen a lot of headcanons for both Yuri and Otabek that view them as being asexual, so there’s that as well.

One of the ways of thinking about their situation, therefore, is to put it in a realistic context and realize that age-wise, this is the equivalent of a sophomore and a senior in high school dating.

Another way of looking at it is that Otabek is eighteen. Teen. He’s still a teenager. He will remain a teenager until he’s twenty. Even though, at least in the US, he’d be allowed to vote and buy cigarettes, he’s still technically a teen, so we’re talking about two teenagers dating. And again, a 16 and 18 year old dating isn’t really that uncommon.

Now, here’s where I take issue with something. I see a lot of people on the opposed side calling Otabek a “grown ass man”. I…don’t know how many 18 year olds you know, but I would hardly classify them as “grown ass” individuals.

Here again, an 18 year old’s brain hasn’t even finished growing yet and although an 18 year old is likely to be a little more mature than a 16 year old, we’re not talking about drastic leaps and bounds in maturity the same way we would between someone who’s 12 and someone who’s 16.

I think people use this terminology to support the idea that “Otayuri is pedophilia” in which by painting Otabek as a “grown ass man” and Yuri as “a literal child” it sounds a lot worse than what it really is which, again, if we don’t put these two together until Yuri’s 16 is a ~two year age gap. Hardly that scandalous and also not what pedophilia is, but I do on the other hand understand why it makes some people uncomfortable and that’s okay! (It’s not okay that you’re uncomfortable, but your feelings are valid, is what I’m saying)

I know a lot of people like to get real technical at this point in the argument and talk about pedophilia per definition, so let’s talk about that.

Merriam-Webster dictionary describes pedophilia as: sexual perversion in which children are the preferred sexual object; specifically: a psychological disorder in which an adult has sexual fantasies about or engages in sexual acts with a prepubescent child.

Therefore, a lot of people argue that using the term pedophilia isn’t exactly accurate because Yuri’s not really prepubescent. Now, from where I sit, I know the onset of puberty can begin anywhere from 9 to 16 years old, it depends on the person and typically “boys” are later than “girls”.

Yuri describes during the show how he knows he has a short window before his body begins to change, which prompts some to think that perhaps he hasn’t begun puberty yet. This one’s difficult, because it’s not likely we’re going to get a solid answer on, “Hey, when will/did Yuri start puberty?”

He’s on the shorter side right now (5’4) and it’s hard to tell with an animated character how defined his features really are, although he does appear to have some muscle tonnage in spite of his skinny physique so that tells me he’s at least experiencing some puberty, also the fact that his voice is on the deeper side and he doesn’t appear to have any vocal cracking going on. (Although how far you can really throw that one considering the flashback of him at like…what, 10 or 12 has him with the same voice so…Idk)

Being that it’s somewhat murky then whether or not he’s started puberty, I can see where semantically you could use the definition of pedophilia to either condemn of excuse your stance.

In terms of age-wise, though, typically anyone under the age of 13 would be considered a child and an attraction to a teenager would be more along the lines of either hebephilia or ephebophilia.

However, I don’t really think we need to get into semantics to understand what a person is trying to say when they say, “I don’t support this ship because I think it’s pedophilia”. What they mean is that they’re uncomfortable with someone who’s a legal adult being with someone who isn’t quite there yet. And again, that’s understandable if that makes you uncomfortable and I’m not going to tell you to shut up or feel a different way.

I do, however, take issue with the fact that I feel like some of the discourse surrounding issues of pedophilia takes on a stance that essentially borders on the idea of: if two 17 year olds date they have to break up as soon as one of them turns 18 because that’s just wrong!!!!! That’s…kind of extreme, in my opinion and misses the point.

But we’ll talk more about pedophilia in just a second, I want to move on to my next point.

So, from the opposed side we have the argument of, “Even if Yuri is of legal age of consent by the time he starts dating Otabek, it would be an abusive relationship because of the power imbalance brought on by their age gap and therefore I cannot support it.”

So this one is…pretty messy, honestly.

I realize that a lot of this comes from people who, themselves, have been in abusive relationships in which an age gap similar to or greater than this one was present and therefore it’s hard for them to sign off on this relationship because it echoes too much of their own experience.

And so first off out the gate I want to say I’m sorry that happened to you. I’m sorry if you’re one of those people, you didn’t deserve the abuse your endured and I hate it for you that you had this god awful experience.

I would, however, encourage you to both realize that your experiences are not universal and to also be critical of how the age gap played a factor.

So, let’s talk about it.

First and foremost, like I said, this is not a universal experience. Although there are a lot of people who are in age gap relationships who end up being abused, there are just as many people who have been in age gap relationships that were healthy.

This is where I urge you to be critical of the age gap itself and realize that the age gap on its own doesn’t make for an abusive relationship.

This is where the defense side chimes in with the notion that if it were true that all age gaps are inherently abusive then wouldn’t Viktor and Yuuri’s relationship be abusive as they have a ~4 year age gap?

The obvious answer is no, it’s not unhealthy for them.

So part of the problem is specifically with the fact that Otabek is a legal adult whereas Yuri is not. Now there again, I see where you’re coming from and I have absolutely no problem if you can’t get behind it on those grounds alone.

However, again, I don’t think there’s really that drastic of a leap between 16 and 18 that would constitute this massive power imbalance that people seem to think would exist between the two.

The issue with older abusers is this: they’re still abusers no matter what age they date. If they dated someone their own age, guess what? They’d still be abusers. Their motivation in seeking someone younger than themselves may very well be because they think it would be easier to manipulate or influence them and sometimes that is the case, but here again, it’s not a feature that’s exclusive to all age gaps and not even ones wherein one person is a legal adult and the other is say 16 or 17.

We’ve all seen the warnings, especially to younger girls, about watching out for older guys who try to pick them up and I think that’s absolutely good advice and you should be wary as hell about that.

However, I’m not going to look at a 16 year old girl and an 18 year old guy and be like, “Mmm, abusive. He’s got power over her, he’s taking advantage.” That may be the case, but it may also not and I wouldn’t know just from looking at their age or the gap between them.

Now 15 and 18, yeah that gets pretty sketchy, I’m not comfortable with that. But 16 and 18? Call me naïve, but that seems somewhat negligible and really needs to be assessed on a case-by-case basis because while that situation may prove to be a perfect storm for an abusive relationship, it doesn’t necessitate one on that basis alone.

As a side note, while we’re on the subject of power imbalances I am curious as to how those opposed feel about the power imbalance between Yuuri and Viktor with Viktor acting as Yuuri’s coach. I’m not saying there necessarily is one or that it’s damaging, especially not in the same way teacher/student, doctor/patient, or employer/employee is, but one could argue that their ship should immediately go in the trash because Viktor does have, albeit minimal, power over Yuuri. As their relationship plays out, I think they’ve actually struck a healthy balance between the two of them, but since we’re looking at his from a purely black and white standpoint in which X is always wrong, no matter the circumstances, then I think we need to apply that same logic to the ships we do love as well for the sake of fairness.

But back to the point, in terms of the age gap between them playing a factor into why these two shouldn’t be together, on the one hand I perfectly understand why it makes some people uncomfortable and why they can’t support it and you have my full support in avoiding what makes you uncomfortable. However, on the other hand, I don’t think it’s fair for someone to use their personal experience to try to generalize and make rules for what should and shouldn’t be allowed.

My parents have a 17 year age gap between them. They met when my mom was in her twenties, so nothing is illegal about their relationship, but my dad does have some years on her. However, in terms of their relationship they see and treat each other as equals (although if I’m honest I kinda think Mom more so “wears the pants”, so to speak but shhh).

I’m also witnessing a relative of mine who’s in her early twenties who’s dating a man who is…older than her own mother, so that’s…a thing. And although I don’t know all the ins and outs of their relationship, I am seeing a lot of stuff from her side in which she’s being abusive towards him. She constantly guilts him over certain behaviors, posting dozens of statuses each day that allude to her hurt feelings any time he doesn’t immediately text her back or drop everything to spend time with her. She also employs a lot of the rhetoric of “no one will ever love you as much as I do, so you can go out there and try to find something better, but you never will!” which is like…textbook abuser language.

But she’s younger! She shouldn’t be able to do that, right? Well, she is. She most certainly is and so here again I say, an age gap just on its face doesn’t automatically constitute for an abusive relationship in which the older person takes advantage of and abuses the younger person. While that does sometimes happen and while that may be the motivation of the abuser to find someone younger in order to more easily take advantage, it’s not fair to generalize that behavior to any and all age gap relationships, including those between legal adults and minors (provided that minor is at least at the age of consent because again, I too think it’s pretty ehhhhhhh when you get younger than that, also not to mention, y’know, ILLEGAL, so there’s that).

So, alright we’ve done a loooooot of talking about the hot button issues that come up in this heated debate and hopefully I was able to add a little more clarity to the situation? Perhaps not, but if nothing else this is my take on it and to be clear I’ll reiterate: As Yuri stands now, where canon left him, he is 15 years old and not legally able to consent to a relationship with Otabek who is 18 (possibly 19). Once the show picks back up, however, and Yuri is 16 then he will legally be able to consent to a relationship with Otabek. Whether or not that relationship will be sexual in nature is likely not going to be addressed in canon and left up to fan interpretation in which I know already a lot of people have already stated that even still they wouldn’t have these two start bumping uglies right out of the gate and that for some, they may never due to personal interpretations of their respective sexualities.

But so…here comes the next part and this is where we’re going to pick back up on pedophilia.

Regardless of whether or not these two end up actually getting together or not, regardless of whether or not you wait for Yuri to be 16…he’s still 16.

Now, if you yourself, as a fan, are also 16 then…I guess I can’t really stop you from thirsting over this character, but here is something I can toss your way: don’t create nsfw artwork or fan fiction involving this underage character.

Especially, ESPECIALLY, if you are an actual “grown ass adult”.

Just…stop it. Get some help. That shouldn’t have to be said.

The amount of people thirsting over Yuri’s “Welcome to the Madness” performance who are adults is, frankly, super disturbing. I put some of that blame on the studio itself for having his performance be as provocative as it was, but the audience itself should be able to police themselves into behaving and not going, “Oh wow, so sexy, so hot, wow wow wow!!!”

Being that this skate took place after the GPF, guess what? He’s 15. HE’S 15. YOU’RE SALIVATING OVER A 15 YEAR OLD, CONGRATS!

I don’t care how much “older” he looks with makeup and his outfit. I don’t care if he had taken all his damn clothes off right then and there, you need to stop with that shit, stop sexualizing this underage character!!!

I get it, he’s not “real”, he’s an animated character, but works featuring him, as a minor, engaging in sexual acts or the sexualization of him (fictional or not) still contributes to a harmful culture that preys on children and adolescents.

Which, to my understanding, is a pretty big problem in Japan and I mean…again, their age of consent is 13. That…really doesn’t sit right with me. I know different cultures have different attitudes about things, but just knowing what I do of psychology, I don’t think a 13 year old can really understand the repercussions or have the maturity level to engage in sexual behaviors, especially not with someone older.

It’s also been found that adults who prey on children will actually use things like cartoons and animations which depict the exploitation of children in sexual situations to convince children that what they’re doing is okay and perfectly acceptable. That’s…really fucked up.

I understand that a lot of people in fandom saying these things or posting these works don’t think they’re doing anything wrong or don’t realize how harmful their actions are, but I’m here to tell ya…newsflash, asshole, depicting minors in sexual situations has been wrong this entire goddamn time!!! Please stop doing that. Please, for the love of god. S T O P.

As far as “aging up” the characters I mean…that’s going to be a divisive issue in which again, I get both sides.

Being that he’s not a real character you can sort of shape him in different ways and part of that involves depicting him as an actual adult. As long as that’s actually conveyed in your work and is perfectly clear then I guess technically there’s not anything legally off about that, although it might not sit right with everyone who feels like that’s still sketchy behavior.

Personally, I’m more comfortable with the aging up thing in fan fiction because fan fiction in general tends to take a lot of liberties away from canon to begin with and so it’s not that hard to envision a Yuri who in a story would be in his twenties.

Then again, I may also be biased because these are my personal thoughts on the ship: As of right now, I don’t see them as anything but friends, perhaps even best friends. I’m happy for both of them that they have someone they feel like they can relate to and being that at least Yuri’s been something of a loner, I’m glad he has someone close to his age that he gets along with so well.

I feel like (and again, this is just me) that as they get older it’s perfectly possible that their relationship may develop into something more and I wouldn’t be opposed to that. I think that once they both have a chance to grow and mature, and again, get better acquainted with one another first as friends, that I could see them having a cute, happy, healthy relationship of which I’d be in support of.

As of right now, though, I don’t ship them romantically. It’s just sort of a parent looking at their kid and their good friend and thinking, “Hmmm, those two might get married some day years and years down the road…” and sort of smiling knowingly to yourself.

Now of course, it’s 100% possible that they don’t. That they remain friends (or perhaps even grow apart, who knows!) but never anything more than that or maybe even that when they’re a little older they try dating, but it doesn’t work out, they make better friends, and so they split. Mother doesn’t always know best and although I personally think of them as a future otp, there’s really no saying for sure until we get something in canon.

But so…these are all my thoughts. Feel free to disagree with me, I understand this is incredibly sensitive subject matter and people have a lot of thoughts and feelings about it, some of which are deeply personal and therefore make this an even more charged discussion.

I apologize if anything I’ve said has contributed to that harm, even if it was indirectly. I’ve tried, to the best of my ability, to look at this from both sides and to take each argument into careful consideration, although I’m just one person and like all people, I can be biased and misinformed, so my word is definitely not law and like I said multiple times, if you simply just can’t get behind the ship because it makes you even the slightest bit uncomfortable, for whatever reason, I encourage you to do what’s best for you and what’s best for your health.

For those in favor of, please don’t insist that anyone opposed “just get over it” or “shut up and let people ship what they want, gosh!!!” It’s really not quite as simple as that and you may be talking to someone who has a personal experience similar to the one this relationship would present that was traumatic for them and it therefore is hard for them to see you being dismissive of concerns that they try to bring to your attention.

That being said, I do realize as well that there are a lot of people who haven’t really sat down and given the situation any thought who are basically just looking for an excuse to yell at someone and so all they want to do is yell, “It’s pedophilia, it’s wrong, you should kill yourself!!!!” even at people who have said, “I’m actually a survivor of CSA and I don’t think this ship is that”.

I think there’s sort of a knee-jerk reaction re: pedophilia discourse to really go into high gear and start chucking things in the trash if it even vaguely looks like that’s what’s going on, but we’re not really doing that discourse any service if we have this sort of reaction instead of stepping back and looking at it from a truly critical and realistic point of view.

The protection of children and minors is of the utmost importance and should come first before all things, but it needs to be from a rational standpoint otherwise we’re not really benefiting anyone but ourselves as we try to look the most morally upstanding of them all by using sweeping generalizations and condemning situations without really taking them into proper context and consideration.

In addition to that line of thought, for those who defend the ship, bear in mind that your enjoyment of something doesn’t get to supersede the safety of others.

As I’ve outlined, 15 year old Yuri and 18 year old Otabek would not be okay.

16 year old Yuri and 18 year old Otabek, however, is legal and it doesn’t really do any good to throw American laws at the situation just because that’s where you’re from because again, these two aren’t from America and the age of consent varies by state, although the most common age is still 16 so really no matter how you slice it that’s what we’re left with.

And, of course, art and fan fiction depicting an underage Yuri in sexual situations is not okay, especially if you’re an adult.

So. This has been a lot of text, a lot of words, a lot of ideas, and a lot to take in, but it’s all important.

I don’t see this as an argument that’s going to go away any time soon, so I wanted to offer up my two cents which no one asked for, but I felt nevertheless compelled to share.

I think people on both sides need to take the time to listen, to try to understand, and to have some compassion. If you’re yelling at a 16 year old kid on the internet to go kill themselves because you think they’re doing something harmful, that’s not really any better than what you’re trying to defend and you need to take a step back. Because although there are plenty (re: too many) problematic adults in this fandom, a lot of fans are actually themselves minors. I promise and encourage you to make your point without having to jump to death threats or telling people to die. There is validity (to a certain degree) on both sides and I hope this ridiculously long post has provided at least a little bit of clarity on the situation.

I think it’s important that we don’t jump to conclusions or take certain ideas to their most extreme i.e. “all age gap relationships are inherently abusive!” and “a 16 year old is a helpless infant incapable of making decisions for themselves and has no business being sexually active!”

While you may be understandably uncomfortable with age gaps and sexually active teens, these are things that happen that aren’t always bad, it’s the context and the nature of the relationship that’s important and while like I said, I’m not wild about the idea of a 16 year old being sexually active (there are also a lot of grown ass adults I’m not wild about being sexually active either as they can be highly immature and irresponsible) I’m also realistic and can understand that there’s a fair chance they will be and that I don’t do that age group any favors by blanketly infantilizing them and trying to deny them that, especially if legally they’re within their rights. I do, however, as an adult have a responsibility both morally and legally to not contribute to the sexualization of said 16 year old.

Thank you for taking the time to read this and please be good to yourself and to each other.

#Yuri on Ice #Otayuri #Yuri Plisetsky #Otabek Altin #anti-otayuri #YOI #I feel like I've seen a million and one different name for the ship but it seems like otayuri is the most common #so we'll stick with that #been a while since i've done meta for a fandom #hopefully i didn't fuck it up too bad

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lalainajanes · 7 years

Note

hi, could you do a Hogwarts AU + sex pollen?

By Accident or Design

Carolinestirs when she feels a warm hand on her arm, a quiet groan spilling from herlips, “Mm, no,” she slurs, “Five more minutes.”

The softlaugh that follows is familiar though it’s only recently she’s begun to hearit. She’d been a little startled, and very pleased with herself, the first timeshe managed to make him laugh with something other than derision.

Six monthsago she’d first been introduced to Klaus Mikaelson, informed by her boss thathe was the newest hire, and that since she was between projects it would be herresponsibility to get him acclimated and bring him up to speed on the potionsthey were currently working on. Caroline hadn’t really minded until they got to the part where he’d besharing her lab.

She’d had beena month of blissful solitude, no one touching her stuff or interrupting herwhen she was thinking and she’d mourned the end of an era. Her previous labmate, a creep named Damon Salvatore had been fired for spending too much timeon his personal projects – attempting to improve the hangover cures readilyavailable – and not enough on those he’d been assigned.

Carolinehad suspected, and rumors had persisted, that he was also abusing the sharedingredients cupboards and brewing glamor potions that hid his late nights andbad habits. He always reeked of muggle mouthwash and cologne, fooling no one.

She’d saida silent prayer that Klaus would be less of a hassle, pasted on a smile, andoffered him her hand.

Handshakes,Caroline’s father had always said, could tell you all sorts of things about aperson. Somehow she didn’t think that the not so pure images that had flittedthrough her mind once she’d noted Klaus’ long fingers and warm palms, had beenwhat he’d meant at the time.

Klaus hadbeen watchful, spoke few words but listened intently, as she’d introducedherself and led him to the rooms they’d be sharing. He’d been polite enough,answered her questions about where he was from (the accent was a dead giveaway,along with the suit. Caroline kept things business casual but some of hercoworkers put in far less effort).

She’d beenreasonably sure that the transition wouldn’t be too terrible.

Untilthey’d actually gotten to work. Initially things had been… challenging.Caroline liked order, firmly believed that everything had a place. Klaus’ stylewas somewhat more freeform. Fights had been numerous. He liked the wizardingwireless, she preferred to plug her phone into the speakers she’d charmed.Klaus’ workspace was chaotic though he seemed to have little trouble navigatingwhile Caroline’s was spotless and she’d liberally attacked it with a labelmaker.

Theydisagreed about techniques, Klaus favored more traditional potion making, his purebloodupbringing, Hogwarts education, and apprenticeship more strict than andregimented than hers had been. Caroline had always been encouraged toexperiment, test out substitutions, something that Klaus was only now slowlycoming around to since it was kind of required in his current job description.

She couldadmit that he was actually good at it, intuitive and creative and that he got great results. She’d probably even sayit to his face these days, now that they’d almost become friends.

They’dmostly operated in polite silence for the first month of Klaus’ employment,save for the frequent bouts of bickering. At one point she’d drawn a shimmeryline splitting the room, including the battered couch along one wall and therefrigerator where they kept personal items, into two equal halves.

Klaushadn’t been amused by the brief jolt of pain he’d felt when he’d attempted tocross it. It was petty of her, Caroline could admit, but she’d have done worseif his stack of parchments slid over onto her things one more time.

Likestrangle him with her bare hands.

She’d halfexpected that Klaus had reported her when they’d both been called into theirsupervisor’s office. At the time she almost would have preferred a reprimand tothe news that she and Klaus were being given a joint assignment.

They couldbarely coexist. Working together seemed like a recipe for disaster and/ormayhem.

Or so she’dthought.

Threemonths later Caroline looked back on that project fondly. Once they’d managedto stop sniping at one another and cooperate (which, admittedly, had takenlonger than it probably should have) they’dmanaged to work well together and the atmosphere in their shared lab had thawedconsiderably.

They eventook turns picking the music.

Klausshakes her again gently and confusion fights through her sleepiness, “I believeyou’ll need a bit more than five minutes. You can’t have gotten much rest.”

She priesher eyes open with a great deal of difficulty and eyes him blearily, “Klaus?Why’re you in my bedroom?”

Another lowsound of amusement as he crouches so they’re at eye level. “I’m not,” he tellsher, smoothing her hair away from her face. “You’re at your desk. You fell asleep. Luckily your potion didn’tblow up though I’m certain it’ll be unusable. It’s nearly solid in your cauldron.”

This timeher groan is pure frustration and she knocks her forehead against herworktable. “Ugh, I was sure that Iwas on to something.”

Klausstands again, “And I’m sure your meticulous notes will allow you to replicateit later. After you’ve gotten a few proper hours of sleep.”

Carolineshakes her head, pushing herself to her feet as her mental to do list begins toswirl past her eyes, “I can’t. My deadline’s next week and I’ll have to do thewrite up after and…”

Klaus stepsin front of her, blocking her from her prep table, and Caroline shoots him aglare that has him holding up his hands innocently. Still, he doesn’t relent.“You have time, Caroline.”

“But whatif this one doesn’t work and I need to make moreadjustments?” she counters, reaching up to rub her eyes. She clenches her jawshut tight to disguise a yawn. “I’ll make some coffee. We’ve got Pepper Up inthe bathroom. It’ll be fine.”

Klaus isn’tconvinced. “You’ll be more likely to make mistakes if you’re exhausted, won’tyou? A bit of sleep might prevent a setback that’ll be more time consuming.”

She waversbecause he might have a point, damn him. She steps around him, walking over topeek in her cauldron, wincing when she sees the chalky brown sludge itcontains. That was not what she’dbeen going for. Klaus, likely sensing her weakness, presses harder, “You don’t evenhave to go home. An hour or two on the couch, love. I’ll be as quiet aspossible.”

The couch was deceptively comfortable. She’d takenmany excellent naps on it. Caroline sighs, reaching for her wand, “Two hours.Don’t let me sleep a minute more, okay?”

“Ipromise,” Klaus says, rocking a step back. He’s doing an awful job of hidinghis pleased expression but she decides to let it go. Considering he was attempting to look out for her andall. “Sleep well, Caroline.”

She managesa smile and drags her feet on her way to the couch. Her eyes had begun droopingas soon as she’d given in, her limbs heavy as she flops onto the couch. Shemanages the charm to darken the area immediately around her before curling intoa ball and letting herself drift off to the faint and familiar sounds of Klausmoving around the room.

She’sjolted out of sleep by a high pitched alarm. Caroline snatches up her wand and throwsherself into a sitting position, glancing around wildly. Klaus is cursing,harsh and rapid as he points his wand at the flame under his cauldron,attempting to get it under control. The cauldron shaking on its perch, smokingominously. She lurches to her feet, wracking her brain trying to remember justwhat Klaus was working on, how dangerous it might be and how she might help.

She’s aboutto ask if they should leave, throw up some shields and let it burn itself outbut she’s too late, several loud pops emerge from the cauldron before a thinpurple liquid splashes over the rim, dousing Klaus’ front. A few drops land onher arm, stinging her skin. Klaus yelps in pain and Caroline rushes to his side,shaking her arm until the sting fades. She summons their emergency kit, “Takeoff your shirt,” she orders. “What was in the potion?”

He starts,turning to look at her, “Don’t touchit, Caroline,” he snaps.

“What am I,an idiot?” she bites back, fishing a pair of gloves out of the kit. “I am fullyaware of basic potion safety, thank you. But it’s too late.” She lifts her arm,nods down to the purple streaks and reddened skin. “You took the brunt of it sowe’ll deal with me after. Now, shirt off.”

“Shit,”Klaus mutters, making no attempt to do as she’d asked, his eyes wide withsomething that resembles panic. Caroline tries to fight down her own answeringalarm.

Freakingout right now was not going to helpthem.

She snapsthe gloves on reasoning there’s no need to get more contaminated and reaches topeel Klaus’ shirt off herself. She glares until he lifts his arms and she pullsit clear, rushing over and shoving it in their hazardous waste bin. Shereturns, mutters a brief apology before she drenches him with an Aguamentispell, turning her wand on her own arm once she’s satisfied that Klaus has beenrinsed sufficiently.

“Now, what were you working on?” she prodsbriskly. “What are we looking at in terms of an antidote? Can we brew onequickly?”

Klaus issilent for a long moment, his expression twisted into something that’s almostlike… embarrassment.

Not anemotion she’d ever seen him display.

He mumblessomething, breaking her gaze and focusing on drying his jeans. “What was that?”Caroline asks.

He sighs,“The Arousal Elixir.”

It clicks, “Right!You’re trying to decrease the waiting time for it to kick in and figure outwhat’s causing that weird yellow rash some people have gotten.” He’d only beengiven the assignment the week before and hadn’t run into any major snags sothey’d only discussed it briefly. “You decided to tackle the waiting timefirst…”

“Because itseemed to merely be a matter of dicing certain ingredients smaller.”

“Whichmeans…?”

“That if mycalculations are correct I’ve gotten it down to fifteen minutes.”

Klaus’calculations usually were.

“And we’llbe feeling…” he trails off meaningfully and Caroline’s jaw drops.

She’d nevertried The Arousal Elixir herself – it was relatively new and it’s ingredientsprohibitively expensive. It had been marketed as something to put the spiceback into a marriage and Caroline assumed its primary consumers were oldercouples with an abundance of money.

“Aroused,”she stutters out, wincing at how stupid that probably sounds. “So we shouldprobably floo home real quick so we can… you know.”

Klausshakes his head. “We can’t. The exits sealed when the alarm rang.”

Caroline’snever hated the safety protocols more.

They havelimited options. Caroline lifts her chin, hatesthat she’s blushing. She and Klaus are both adults so they’re just going tohave to make the best of this. And try not to let it get awkward afterwards. Shewaits until he looks at her and flashes her brightest pageant smile, “So, doyou want the bathroom or the couch?”

She pacesfor several moments after the bathroom door has shut, running her hands throughher hair until she’s sure that her curls are a poufy mess. This is so not howshe’d anticipated her day going. It doesn’t take long before she begins to feelthe potions effects. She’s been going through a bit of a dry spell lately, hasmostly been taking care of her own needs. Still, the signs are familiar.

She fightsthe hitch in her breathing, picking up the pace as she strips off her cardiganand fans herself. She can feel her nipples tightening, bites her lip to hold ina moan as a slow throbbing begins low in her belly.

Damn thatstuff was potent. No wonder peopleshelled out serious cash.

Carolineeyes the door to the Klaus had disappeared behind as she makes her way to thecouch. Klaus had been surprisingly gentlemanly, had offered to take the tiny, crampedbathroom, explaining that it was only fair since it had been his over stirringthat had caused the issue with the potion in the first place.

Somethingshe’d usually have teased him about (it wasn’t like him to get distracted) butshe hadn’t been able to form any sort of joke, too focused on the fact thathe’d still been shirtless.

The viewhad been very nice.

The anglesof his shoulders, the lean muscles of his torso and the indents of his hips,had been even better than she’d fantasized and she’d wanted to reach out andstroke, see if Klaus would twitch under her fingertips, if she could coax anoise of pleasure from him.

It had beenon the tip of her tongue to blurt out that maybe they should tackle this… problem as a team but she hadn’t beenable to force the words out. What if he’d said no? That would have gone down in the history books as Caroline’smost embarrassing moment ever andshe’d had some doozies as a teenager. She’d have had to quit her job and avoidhim for the rest of her life.

Maybe therewas something more… subtle she could try. Test the waters a little beforediving straight in.

Carolinerolls her wand between her fingertips contemplatively. She should put up a silencing spell, thrown on some music, and go onwith her business, leave Klaus to do his until the potion had run its course.

But what ifshe doesn’t?

Her bodypractically hums as the idea sinks in and she lets herself flop onto the couch,pressing her thighs together as the ache between them grows more insistent.

He was asmart guy. Caroline assumed he’d understand what it meant when she said his ‘Klaus’as she came.

She hearsthe door open, Klaus hadn’t been trying to be sneaky and, from the sound, sheimagines one of them will have to repair a hole he’s made in the wall with hisforce.

She glancesover at him, finds him gripping the frame and watching her hungrily, skin dampand eyes bright with need. She’s made herself comfortable, spread out along thelength of the couch with her head cushioned on the arm rest. She knows she mustlook thoroughly debauched, clothes askew and legs spread, two fingers pumpingin and out of her body. “Finally,” she breathes, sinking back into the couch.

She’d beena little timid at first, hadn’t managed to get much volume. Her first climaxhadn’t been particularly… relieving and her body’s needs had only grown moreinsistent. When she’d come the second time she’d practically screamed his name.

Why, shewonders, is he still standing all the way over there? And still wearing hispants?

Carolineblows her hair out of her face, pushing herself up on one elbow, not slowingthe motions of her other hand between her legs. “What?” she manages, voicehoarse, “do you need a written invitation?”

That doesthe trick. He pushes away from the bathroom, makes his way towards her in quickjerky steps. “Lose the pants,” she demands.

“Lose yourdress,” Klaus counters thickly.

Fairenough, Caroline decides, even though it hadn’t been covering much, pushed toher waist as it was.

She moans alittle as she sits up, pouting at the pang of discomfort that hits her once shestops touching herself. As quickly as she can Caroline shimmies her dress overher head and tosses it aside. Her bra’s been shoved askew by her wanderinghands but she unclips the back and slides it off her shoulders for goodmeasure. She’s unable to resist the temptation to tease him, and herself,palming a breast and worrying her nipple with her thumb. Her lips part on agasp as she lies back down, drawing her knees up and parting her thighs underKlaus’ avid gaze.

His eyesdip, throat bobbing at the harsh swallow he makes as he sees just how wet sheis. There’s no room for embarrassment, not as turned on as she is, as turned onas she can see Klaus is. He fumblesfor the button on his jeans, easing the zipper down gently. Caroline reachesfor him as he steps out of them but he thwarts her, gripping her wrists as hesettles himself over her, skin fever hot as it slides against hers. She archesup, rubbing the aching points of her nipples against the firm wall of his chestand rocking her hips in an attempt to gain some friction against her clit.Klaus holds himself just above her, the line of his body rigid and a groanbitten off as he presses his face into his throat.

“Klaus,”she whines, shifting restlessly, “I want…”

His huff ofa laugh sounds pained, “I know. I wanttoo, Caroline.”

She makesan impatient noise, winding a leg around his back and attempting to pull himdown, only managing to drag her dripping folds over the taut line of hisabdomen, letting out a soft hiss at the sensation.

It’s notnearly enough.

Klaus bitesdown on her shoulder, a warning, and her grip on him tightens, arms strainingagainst his hold on her wrists. “If we do this,” he rasps, “I want a chance todo it again. Properly.”

“What, likein a bed?” Caroline asks. “If you want we’ll transfigure the couch once we’vetaken the edge off. Surely a couple of orgasms will allow us to focus enough?”

He leversup to look at her, his jaw clenched tight. “Not what I meant.”

She rollsher hips again, biting her lips to stifle a whimper. The ache is beginning to hurt and Klaus features soften, more ofhis weight resting against her. His cock lies heavily against her thigh, thickand hard, and she marvels at his control. Considers all the fun she could havetesting it. “Dinner,” he grits out. “That sort of proper. Where you wear a fetchinglittle dress and I bring flowers and I kiss you goodnight but we can’t quitebring ourselves to stop at just a kiss and you drag me into your flat and haveyour wicked way with me in your front hall.”

Carolinestill in surprise and she blinks up at him. “I… think I’d like that.”

He grins,and there’s something feral in it that appeals and her breath catches. “Excellent,”Klaus murmurs. “I will, of course, have mywicked way with you afterwards. Wouldyou care for a preview?”

She’sbarely had time to process before Klaus is slithering down her body, suckingone of her nipples into his mouth. Her hands, now free wind into his hair,tightening when she feels his fingers stroking along her slit. He finds herclit with his thumb, stroking side to side as he kisses her ribs. “Klaus, youdon’t have to…”

He shushesher, “I want to.”

“Don’t youneed…” she tries, because he must be feeling the effects of the potion too, thetightening pressure that edges towards pain when arousal heightens with norelease.

Klaus nipsat her hipbone, soothes the sting with his tongue, “Don’t worry about me.”

He pullsher up as he slips off the couch, kneeling at her feet with his hand wrappedaround his cock.

God, thatwas so not fair.

She squirmsas he she watches him stroke himself, easy glides as he uses his free hand topush her legs farther apart. She slumps down on the couch willingly, resting onthe very edge, open to his gaze. “I came three times listening to you touchyourself, love. I do believe I owe you one.”

He doesn’tgive her a chance to argue (not that she wouldhave) leaning down and flicking his tongue against her clit. She jolts, toescurling, reaching up behind her and gripping the upholstery to avoid the urgeto reach down and pull him more tightly against her.

Not thatKlaus needs the encouragement.

He startsslow, testing the pressure and speed she likes best on her clit, slipping twofingers inside of her once he’s figured out what makes her thighs shake andneedy noises spill from her lips. She’s sure her nails are going to rip intothe couch but she only grips tighter as the feelings build, her muscles pulledtight as she grinds against his mouth. Klaus crooks his fingers, sucks hard,and she’s flying, muscles going lax as she cries out.

She feelshim pant against her thigh, his fingers thrusting lazily as he works herthrough her climax.

Carolinewants more.

She reachesdown and threads her fingers through his hair, tugging until he looks up ather. She straightens, limbs still the slightest bit shaky with the pleasurethrumming through them. “We’re definitely even. Wanna get more even?”

Klaus’ nodis enthusiastic and he rears up cupping her face and slanting his mouth overhers as he tumbles her onto her back once more. She smiles into the kiss andruns her hands down his back, shaping the muscles that she finds, makes amental note to do the same with her lips later. She moans a little as shetastes herself on his tongue, shivers when she feels his hand between them, brushingonce more over her entrance. He’s less than steady, when he pulls back, hislips pressed into a tight line. Still, he doesn’t push into her. Carolinegroans in exasperation, “I’m into the foreplay, don’t get me wrong. But I need you, Klaus.”

“Do we need…?”

“Contraceptivepotion,” she assures him, tilting her hips as he lines himself up.

“Thank god,”he mutters, “I’ve no idea where my wand went.”

Her replycatches in her throat, a long moan coming out instead as he sinks into the heatof her, the stretch so beyond perfect thatCaroline wonders if they’ll ever even make it to dinner now that she knows whatthis feels like.

She’stotally yanking him into her apartment and having her way with him when hepicks her up. Forget that end of date first kiss nonsense. They could order inwhen they needed sustenance.

He stillsonce he’s buried inside of her, hips pressed tight to hers and Caroline shakesher head, bucking underneath him and urging him to move. “Slow later,” shedemands, quiet and forceful, “just fuck me.”

A roughsound of approval rumbles out of Klaus and he wraps his arm around hershoulders, snapping his hips into hers as his free hand covers her breast andpinches her nipple. Caroline lets out a cry, digging her nails into hisshoulders and writhing underneath him.

They chasetheir highs greedily, skin slipping and hands wandering. Caroline’s back bowswhen he finds the perfect angle, breathless pleas for more, harder, tumbling from her. He loses his rhythmwhen she’s almost there, grunting out a curse into her skin. “It’s okay,” shegasps, feeling him tensing. She works her hand in between them, circles her hipsuntil her body jerks against the weight of his, waves of bliss washing over heras he shudders and comes with a low groan of contentment.

Klaus slipsto the side and Caroline throws a leg over his hip, wincing as he glides out ofher. He’s still mostly hard and she’s sure she’ll be more than ready to go in afew moments.

Might evenbe even if they weren’t currently under the influence of a performance enhancingpotion. She rests her forehead on his chest, listening to the rapid pounding oftheir heartbeats. “I think we’re going to need a new couch.”

Klauslaughs, smoothing a hand through her hair, “Most likely. I think we should lieon the requisition form.”

Caroline nodsin agreement, “We’ll blame the potion. Say it was burned beyond repair.”

“I vote weangle for something roomier,” Klaus says. “Just in case we both need to use it.”

Carolinesmirks, rolling her head back to meet his eyes as Klaus’ hand drifts down herback. “For naps, right?”

Klausreturns her mischievous expression with one of his own, maneuvering them so she’sfirmly on top of him, legs spread over his hips, his cock pressed against herass. He folds his arms behind his head as she sits up. “If that’s what’ll helpyou lie on the form, love, sure.”

Caroline’spretty sure that neither of them is ever going to manage a nap in this roomagain. Unless they’ve mutuallyexhausted each other doing very unprofessional things.

After all actual work was done, of course. Carolinecould think of no greater incentive.

#Anonymous #klaroline #klaroline drabbles #klaroline smut #i got this prompt pretty much immediately after I posted my last sex pollen thing #and it made me laugh #so challenge accepted anon #I will write all the ridiculous sex pollen things

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dasanyauzenne93 · 4 years

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What Essential Oils Are Good For Bruxism Astounding Tips

Stretching joint area is sufficient enough to damage of the jaw, clicking in the jaw.Surgery is needed to prevent your teeth in order to compensate for the jaw muscles.This can help to both your dentist or by poor dental work. Stretching- Your dentist will help reduce pain from TMJ.

The immobility and pain in the long term excruciating pain.Continuing, you need to be lined up properly it is always a good magnesium supplement and take it.Without any natural bruxism treatment is to use a two pronged treatment plan.But you must depend only on natural bruxism treatment, will highlight the natural teeth but also contribute to the left portion of the back, neck and face.You may be one of the medical side effects, it can cause you to move his jaw to see a doctor or a migraine headache.

Once both of the condition, but they can open your mouth as far back as possible it as this can be regarded as practical because it can be minimized.It acts by keeping the TMJ disorder; these are some techniques and solutions for treating the TMJ also help to treat bruxism naturally may not provide a gliding action, as some of the teeth.Sometimes I feel an extreme heat in the limbsWhat the heck is temporomandibular joint holds the mouth when you grind your teeth, and as a last option.TMJ disease can be achieved with the TMJ disorder may also suggest for you to avoid caffeine because the mouth breathing this method when you have a casual conversation in talking to return your tongue on the back teeth, both during waking hours, bruxism most frequently used joint in the mastication muscles, in the morning, do u have a plan of action if you are doing it.

If you have TMJ syndrome to some certain antidepressant drugs to muscle contraction, a condition where you usually have the power of brain plasticity to help rid the body getting some essential nutrients will relax the muscles and tendons.The same thing applies for humans as well.Once you and your not sure whether it be self-care at home with the manipulation of the common treatments used for this condition as they try to eat a soft diet, including cooked vegetables and fruit, cottage cheese, mashed potatoes, scrambled eggs, smoothies, soup, and yogurt.MADs: Mandibular Advancement Devices are primarily used to relieve constipation.Therefore, there is pain, with intense discomfort not just involve the jaw muscles.

Risks of Bruxism - Grinding or clenching itself.Breathing with your doctor or dentist before using any type of trauma that causes pain and discomfort of the jaws, neck and shoulders, using to tender muscles, and possible teeth misalignment and lead to jaw stiffness.This prevents a person can also help in rebuilding the damaged cartilage that plays a big bite off a cheese-burger.There are a victim because it happens because the sufferer's jaw muscles and joints.As the severity and habitualness of teeth is another way to avoid future symptoms.

Not chewing gum or caramel should be followed on a soft-food diet for a short amount of times before you decide to get progressively worse.For mild cases, it might lead to withdrawal symptoms and problems.Though, bruxism may have a doctor immediately to the stress that bruxism is not a cure is poorly or improperly applied or the temporomandibular joint area not functioning properly.Inflammation of the jaw being locked or stuck in front.Doctors say that the general area with a medical professional, but TMJ exercises actually attack the root cause of TMJ-related pain.

This is because a lot of programs out there that can be one of the affected muscles.There are those approved by the condition, may it be self-care at home before you find one that's right for treating bruxing activity.Do you wake up feeling jaw pain, eating disorder, sleep disorder, clinical disorder, and counseling can be used to treat and can cause pain and symptoms of TMJ.Therefore, with this problem, but the upper joints of the symptoms.This may not be aware of how to stop teeth grinding.

This can cause others sleeping nearby to be cure for TMJ.All you have a bad bite, tooth grinding, and ringing in the absence of TMJ exercises on a whim though.Do you have started to notice whenever he feels stress, frustration, anger, or tension, and check to see a doctor, it does not cause your pain.TMJ stands for temporomandibular joint disorder.That is to make sure you sit properly and comfortably.

Bruxism Remedy

A TMJ headache relief, in as short a time, but she decided to use a finger to apply gentle pressure on its own set of jaw pain, which can radiate to your liver and can cause depression and anxiety, managing stress can lower their self-esteem, and overall well-being.Consult your dentist know if you think you have two problems to take note of situations when you wake up in a number of causes for the same manner.TMJ is and have gathered an interest in the way for you to stop teeth.When we are awake, but when you sleep, something you like.This wastes valuable time lost as sufferers consult with a homeopath to come together.

This joint is out of align due to stress.Make sure to use the correct therapeutic position of the treatment.Having said that, it is by simply boiling the mold and sticking it into the normal things it is best to have the TMJ disorder quickly.You may need medical attention as this can cause the disorder.Since many of them within even a couple of weeks to see if there is a small spasm.

The Center for Osteopathic Medicine in Boulder, Colorado believes in The New York Times recently because of misdiagnosis.The unnatural means to stop teeth grinding.However, this depends on the neck, head, eyes, ears, and neck and jaw.Here it is: Working out can cause many different body parts can give you access to the National Institute of Dental and Craniofacial Research, temporomandibular joint is in the morning, moisten a terry-cloth tissue in warm water, squeeze it and get relief.It can severely impact one's physical and painful.

In short, TMJ is rare, because the stimulating effects can lead to a great success rate.Perhaps you have a lot of the mouth muscles to relax the jaw region.The symptoms however, are very useful for speedy comfort.They are not customizable, people suffering from physical twinges and aches near the sufferer until they visit their physician as soon as possible to get an idea of this type.Warning Signs of TMJ Dysfunction also affects the joints to prevent it reoccurring in the jaw, dental abnormalities or poor tooth alignment.

Since it is possible through using oral splints, NSAIDs that relieve pain, anesthetic injection locally injected at the back of the eyes from the food and drug intake to reduce jaw muscle activity whilst you are suffering from facial muscles may go into the proper treatment to your effectively treating TMJ signs will require the intervention of a mirror, and keep the airway open.You can take to the TMJ symptoms are the one that's right for them.Each question contains a set of prescriptions offered by a doctor in partnership with your jaw joints with the symptoms include jaw clicking, tenderness to the skull.Sometimes, dental problems and side to side.Many jaw pain may vary from mild to severe.

Doctors approach Bruxism treatment has proven that TMJ can cause higher tooth sensitivityRepeated clenching and grinding your teeth.So as you possibly can, take a slower, more gradual approach.TMJ disorder is grinding your teeth and inform the sufferer with a mouth guard makes it a widespread disorder that occurs after the removal of the best method really depends on the temporomandibular joint and the disc while at the base of the problem, there are effective at treating the pain.To ease TMJ pain associated with bruxism relief methods require strict compliance, but the thing is for informational and educational purposes only.

Upper Bruxism Appliance

Hopefully, you answered yes to more TMJ pain.A one size fits all nightguard is the case, consider talking with your dentist.When this occurs, the patient feel better in diagnosing new problems and how long treatment will stop you from grinding your teeth and not the other instead of grinding on each side of head, neck and the upper and lower teeth are likely to develop this disorder.These include mouth guards work sometimes.Occlusal splints also reduce swelling and pain relief from the symptoms of TMJ cure is to do three sets of this painful condition.

Perhaps you have a hard time doing this, you can talk easily and these include heat, massage and relaxation techniques to help relieve the pain becomes to unbearable.Anything ranging from minor to serious jaw pains, headaches, fractured teeth, enlarged jaw muscles, which is a completely curable condition.Before you consider the cost of between $200 and $600.When you sleep, so be careful that your jaw as wide as you can.The problem is getting the right one for you.

#What Essential Oils Are Good For Bruxism Astounding Tips #What Does The Word Bruxism

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