cosleia - Tumblr blog

cosleia · 10 days ago

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I’ve been thinking a lot lately about some of the people I interact with. I have a coworker who I am pretty sure is a MAGA type, and she is also a lovely woman who is dreadfully overworked and so good at connecting to patients when they call. I can see the conflict on her face when she talks to me, a gigantic tranny dork who speaks Spanish and affirms the LGBT community, but can also talk to her about her cows and knows about guns and stuff. I can see the fear in the eyes of my former Young Men’s leader when he misgenders me and realizes that I’m not an ideology but a person he has known for a long time. I can see the way my extended family stop and stutter over political discussions when they realize they are talking about me. And I don’t know why but lately it’s just made me think about my neighbor as a kid.

When we moved to Arizona, we moved next door to a lovely retired couple - John and Lucy. John was a veteran of WWII, he had an M.D. and a Ph.D. in radiology, and he LOVED us to pieces. His wife, Lucy, was a sharp and gifted woman - well spoken, very observant, and VERY clever. I just know that she used that cleverness as a mom to great effect, because with my and my siblings she always managed to find a way to send us home with candy and treats for a week despite my dad’s protests. We loved them, growing up, and even though they have long-since passed away I love them still, and I love what I learned from them.

John was, as stated, a WWII veteran. He was enlisted as a rifleman, and later as a front line medic, starting at Point Du Hoc and moving inwards to France and towards the Rhine. He let me do a report on him in 6th grade where he shared war stories with me he had kept to himself his whole life - he said it was out of respect for his friends who didn’t get to come home and tell their stories.

He said he told me because he knew I could respect the memories of his friends.

He showed me his collection of medals, and which he’d kept hidden away in a sock in his attic because he’d feel an immense grief any time he saw them. He had wanted to be a doctor his whole life, prior to being drafted he was studying medicine and had taken the Hippocratic oath to Do No Harm. He saw his medals as a reminder that he had Done Harm.

After telling me his stories he was able to convince himself that while he had Done Harm, it was only because his only other alternative was, to him, cowardice. He chose to be brave even if it meant acting against his Oath because he felt that if he didn’t do it someone else would have to go in his place and he would be responsible for the harm that befell them. I don’t think that’s true, but for him it was and that was something no being on earth could have ever dissuaded him from believing.

He shared wild stories - melee combat on the beach, clearing artillery bunkers, receiving a Purple Heart for being injured in hand-to-hand combat with a Wehrmacht rifleman he said he felt pity for because they were the same age and he had to imagine the man he was fighting had been drafted just like him.

He shared how he was awarded a Silver Star for charging a machine gun nest, but shared that he was most proud of not killing anyone in the process. He threw a grenade with the pin still in it and when the machine gunners jumped to avoid being blown up they were killed by someone else so he didn’t have to do it. He took the machine gun and shot the other machine gun in that French field to pieces so he didn’t have to kill the people operating it. He said they were giving out Silver Stars like candy but I knew he was being modest.

He told me about being redesignated as a medic, about how he crawled for about 500 yards on his belly to rescue an injured tank driver, then threw him over his back and crawled the same 500 yards back (1000 yards total) to treat his injuries. He said he met the man in an Army hospital in England after his spine was broken by a high explosive panzer shell was fired through a hollowed out French farmhouse and landed about 20 feet away from him.

He told me about all the people he helped and saved as a medic, he told me about his work in radiology and research after the war. He showed me a hallway that was quite literally wallpapered with academic honors he’d earned as a researcher. He told me about how his first Fourth of July back was a horror show for him because fireworks and German artillery make very similar sounds. He told me about how he woke up in a cold sweat well over half a century later hearing the screams of German artillery men being burned alive with flamethrowers, or hearing his own voice apologizing to the young German soldier he stabbed in the heart at Point Du Hoc.

He told me that when he was asked to present at a medical conference in Germany 25 years after the war ended that he was so scared he couldn’t step off the plane, and that his wife had to hold his hand and lead/pull him with her. He said he was not scared because he was worried about being triggered, but because he knew that someone somewhere outside of that plane had the course of their life irreparably altered by his military service. That to someone out there he was the cause of immense suffering and harm. That some unwitting waiter could be the son of the Nazi Officer he stabbed in the heart with a 12-inch hunting knife. That some woman asking questions in the audience would be the daughter or widow of a man he sent to judgement with a .30-06. He was scared that they would hate him.

He knew what the Nazi’s had done, he knew better than anyone I’d ever met. He’d watched the documentaries, he’s seen the PoWs returning from camps, he’d seen the civilians massacred and tortured by their regime, but he also knew that among the monsters were people like him - idealistic 20-somethings who only wanted to make the world better and were ripped away from that life by the Nazi war machine. And he spent his whole life mourning the loss of innocence and peace that was forced on so many people by such a corrupt power.

To be honest I don’t know if I could do that, but he could. He told me he could still feel the dead and lost with him, both when he slept and when he woke. He told me he thought he’d go to his grave never having told a word of this to anyone. That the stories of him and his friends and allies would disappear silently with him and those like him. That he had wanted that until he realized that he didn’t have to sell out to share the stories - that he could give the stories away for free to someone who would love the people in them, and not just the content of them. He didn’t want his stories to be used as Patriotic Pornography by some TV network or magazine. He wanted the people he knew to be respected, he wanted their memories to be honored and loved, and he entrusted me, a 12-year-old “boy” to do that.

He told me for years afterwards that after telling me these stories that he slept better than he ever had. That by sharing the stories with someone who could hear Him over the din of victory and glory and honor and revisionistic history. Someone who could see the man in the story and not just see the plot of a battle being won. He wanted to be human, and he wanted the people he saw die to be human too - everyone, not just the people on his side. He wanted someone to see and to know the anguish of having to look someone in the eye as heartblood muddies the ground beneath them and hope that they understand that this was not an act of love or hatred but an act of desperation. To hope that you had just taken out One Of The Bad Ones instead of a medical student or a poet who had been drafted. He wanted me to see how hard he had worked since then to build a world without scarcity, to build a world of peace. He wanted me to know SO badly that the cost of violence, any violence, even necessary violence, is always ALWAYS paid by both parties involved.

I think about the rise of the new right wing - the new Nazi movement’s traction in politics, and I feel sad and scared - the world that Johnathan J Yobaggy, my neighbor, my friend, and my hero, worked SO hard to build is being done away with by people who do not understand the cost of the path they are entering. I can see brief moments of recognition in the eyes of some of the people I mentioned - The former young men’s president who immediately regrets misgendering me and hen he makes eye contact with me and sees Me staring back at him and not a faceless “ideology.” I can hear it in the voice of my uncle who quietly comes up to me to apologize for some homophobic comment he made absentmindedly. I can see it in the eyes of racists and sexists being interviewed on TV when they realize that they didn’t vote for a concept, they voted for a real thing. And honestly, I have mixed emotions about it. Because while I understand frustration with the status quo, the importance of basic human needs like affordable good and rent, and I know the fear that comes with feeling powerless, I also can’t help but grieve the endless wheel of history bringing us back to this God Damned Fucking Place again. I hope we can avoid this fate, not just for our sake but for the sake of everyone who has ever tried to make the world safer. For everyone who has ever tried to make up for human nature, for everyone who has ever placed themselves on the offering plate to protect others from the cruelty they know lies just under the surface of mankind’s tenuous grip on progress. I want SO badly for there to be a solution to this, for the people who idolize the Nazi party and the impact of fascism to see that the price of this path is paid in more than just blood but in soul. That they’re allowing themselves to be devoured too. I want for the centrists and the fence sitters and the idealists who want to “change it from the inside” to see how dangerous our politics have become. I want them to see that they’re losing the things that make them great in exchange for a security blanket that’s now become far far far too small to ever work for them again.

Safety found in the past is already gone, and safety found in the future is only as real as a daydream. That any ideology that promises that by “joining us now we’ll make things rough so we can make things safe in a decade” is a promise made by those who will not have to fight the battles they send you to.

I don’t know if America was ever really great, but as long as John was alive it felt great to me. There is no ideology that can replace a neighbor. No tax plan that can replace a friend. No grocery bill that can replace community and connection. No amount of budget cuts that can replace kindness. No amount of suffering from people I hate that will ever make more love. I don’t know how to make America great, but I know how to make my America great and it is not by selling out integrity and compassion and community and fucking humanity to make eggs and gas cheaper. It is by seeing and hearing the people around me. I’m not Mormon anymore, but I still know the value of mourning with those that mourn and comforting those that stand in need of comfort. I’m not Christian anymore but I still have Eyes That Can See and Ears That Can Hear. I want to make this all stop but I can’t stop the collective power of tens of millions of people so instead I listen to my MAGA coworker tell me about how sick her kid was last week. I make jokes with my Young Men’s leader. I hug my uncle. I let them see me fully, as a human and not an ideology. As a woman and not the concept of gender. As a whole person and not someone who can be easily summarized or boiled down into something short and quippy. And I let them know I can see them fully too, and I can see all their humanity as easily as they can see mine. I just have to hope that this works - that enough people can See and Hear the people in their lives who matter to them to bring them out of their personal world of forms and into the real world.

I am probably, honestly, just spiraling a little bit. I took my ADHD meds today and in addition to helping me focus they make me a little anxious so I doubt things are as bad right now as they seem. But just in case there’s any truth to the way things seem to be going, remember, and I mean this seriously: Be kinder to each other, be gayer, and read more Terry Pratchett.

And for the love of god day hello to your neighbor.

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cosleia · 13 days ago

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hux who falls head first into subspace at the drop of a hat

(bonus point if he doesn't know that that's what's happening)

they're tactile friends. kylo mindlessly touches hux's hair while they're watching tv and hux goes all gooey. he leans into kylo's touches, heavy lidded and content. kylo asks about it and hux brushes it off, says that's just what happens when people touch his hair.

kylo is silently amused. he knows exactly what's happening. he cups the back of hux's head and scritches his hair. hux tilts his head back and parts his legs a bit. kylo doubts hux is aware he's doing it. he casually asks if hux knows what bdsm is.

hux mewls softly. he knows what bdsm is, but he's never done it. he's seen some bdsm porn, but he doesn't think it's his thing, he mutters.

kylo uh-huhs and bites back a laugh. hux is slowly fusing with the sofa, eyes closed, lips parted slightly. kylo extends his touches and scritches to hux's neck. it's not about his hair - kylo knew it wasn't - hux reacts the same way when kylo sticks his hand down the back of his t-shirt and rubs the top of his spine. kylo tells him he should put his head in his lap. hux doesn't pause to question it, but does as he says right away. he barely opens his eyes to do it and rubs his face on kylo's thigh, before settling down and curling his legs up toward his body.

kylo didn't expect hux to just ... do it. hux is prickly at the best of times. if kylo had known head scritches was all it took to get hux to agree with him, he would have done it a lot sooner.

hux is pliant. kylo barely has to touch him to encourage him to roll onto his back. hux blinks up at him with heavy lids, completely unconcerned about what is happening. kylo puts one hand low on hux's belly and pets him soothingly; the other he puts back in hux's hair. they lock eyes and for a brief moment kylo thinks hux will come to his senses and hit him - but hux just closes his eyes again and arches his back, asking for more belly touches.

kylo huffs a soft laugh and hikes hux's shirt up, so he can scritch his happy trail. "you're being awfully ... submissive," kylo says pointedly.

hux snorts and swats his chest, either not getting the subtext or not wanting to dignify it with a response. since kylo isn't doing anything untoward, he keeps petting hux, instead of clarifying what he meant. hux tilts his head, trying to guide kylo to a certain spot. kylo avoids it on purpose, until hux starts to whine. "do you want something?" he asks teasingly. hux wiggles his whole body, struggling to form sentences. kylo begins to question if he should continue. it doesn't feel right. kylo stops petting him and removes his hands from hux's body. hux whines softly and asks why he stopped. kylo gently tells him he thinks he's in subspace. hux makes a face; doesn't know what it is. kylo tries to explain it, says it's a bit like being high hux blinks owlishly up at him, says his name.

"mm?"

"am i hard?"

kylo glances at hux's lap. he's rubbing his thighs together. "you can't tell?"

hux shakes his head, looks pinched. "i don't know."

"have you ever felt like this before?" kylo asks quietly and brushes hux's hair back. hux is slow to answer, kylo's hand on his forehead is claiming all his attention.

he shakes his head. "don't think so. maybe. kind of."

kylo laughs softly. "think you can snap out of it?"

"don't want to," hux says and curls into kylo's stomach. "feels good." hux is hard and the fact that he can't tell worries kylo a little. he's seen people in subspace before, but hux is quite deep, considering they've barely done anything. kylo is surprised at how comfortable hux is with him; with this. hux doesn't exactly make a habit of being vulnerable in front of other people - at least not him. hux and kylo are close, sure, but not as close as hux is with phasma. kylo is not the one hux kisses when he's drunk

"tell me if you want to stop, ok?" kylo says. hux nods and mumbles a little. he pulls kylo's hand close to his mouth. they're effectively holding hands and hux nuzzles the back of kylo's hand, lost in the sensation of how kylo's skin feels against his own. it's sweet. kylo smiles and wonders what kind of stuff hux would react to if he ever did bdsm properly. he doubts it would be pain.

it's not something they talk about, but their friend group knows what brendol was like.

kylo runs his free hand over a welt on hux's lower back. hux wiggles his hips away from kylo's touch. he's ticklish. he would probably be into sensation stuff, kylo thinks. like feathers and blindfolds. maybe vibrators. kylo abruptly stops that line of thinking before he becomes hard, too. kylo pulls hux's shirt back down, covering his middle. "you look cute like this."

"like what?" hux asks, face smooshed to the back of kylo's hand.

"curled up in my lap. like a kitten."

hux opens one very judgmental eye and slowly opens his mouth and threatens to dig his teeth in. kylo raises a brow and calmly states, "if you do that, i won't pet you anymore."

after a moment, hux huffs and covers his teeth. "you're no fun."

"no?" kylo challenges and slips his hand up under hux's shirt, running his fingers over hux's side and back, scritching. a shiver goes down hux's spine and he moans softly. he's going pink in the face and down his neck. if kylo were to guess, the blush extends down his chest, too.

hux mewls "please" and kylo freezes, hand halfway to hux's nipples they're hard and showing through his thin t-shirt, practically begging to be touched.

kylo licks his lips. "please what?"

hux makes a string of nonsensical sounds and writhes, but doesn't answer. kylo keeps touching his chest softly, brushing against his nipples every so often. kylo lowers his voice, "tell me what you want, hux. i'll do it, but you have to tell me."

"you," hux mumbles. "want /you/, kylo. please."

kylo gapes. his ears burn. they probably match hux's in colour.

with kylo frozen above him, hux finally opens his eyes. "please, kylo?" he whispers, eyes hooded and dark. in a moment of clarity, hux rolls onto his back, his head still firmly in kylo's lap. with a flick of his wrist he opens his belt and jeans. "please," he says again and drags kylo's hand down his belly.

hux's belly is quivering under his hand. they haven't done this before. they flirt sometimes, but hux has never shown interest.

kylo swallows thickly. hux is looking up at him pleadingly - how is he supposed to say no to that. sliding his hands down hux's belly, down into his briefs feels like the most natural thing in the world; like he's done it a million times before. hux's skin is so warm and soft. kylo curls his fingers around the base of hux's cock and hux doesn't break eye contact. it's thicker than he had imagined. hux makes a soft, wounded sound. his hips buck instinctively; just the once. kylo doesn't know if he should just go for it. this has got to be crossing some sort of line. is he really about to risk ten years worth of friendship?

"kylo, please," hux whispers and grabs kylo's forearm, digging his nails in just enough for kylo to feel it. "i want it."

kylo tightens his fingers and hux melts. he tries his best to keep his eyes locked with kylo's, but the harder kylo squeezes, the heavier his lids become. hux's briefs restrict his wrist, but it somehow doesn't feel right pulling them down. kylo gets a slow rythm going. he can't tell which one of them is more out of breath. he's always had a thing for hux, but he never thought anything would come of it.

hux doesn't know what to do with himself. he clutches the front of kylo's shirt, keening quietly. "god, you're so big. /fuck/."

it takes kylo a second to realise hux means his hand. he glances at his hand, moving languidly inside hux's briefs. "maybe you're just small," he counters, heat creeping up his neck.

hux /wails/ and clamps his thighs tightly around kylo's hand. he's trembling all over, eyes firmly closed.

"yeah?" kylo smiles and bites his lip. he forces his hand deeper between hux's shaking legs. it's a tight fit, but he manages to cup hux's cock and balls. "you feel that?" he says teasingly. "don't even need two hands to take care of you, do i?" hux whimpers and hides behind his arms. kylo drops a kiss on one of his pointy elbows and says, "open your legs."

hux closes his legs more tightly, thighs shaking with the effort.

"hey, now, don't be like that. you want me to touch you, don't you? get you off?" there's a few seconds' delay, but hux nods. "then you gotta open your legs."

"kiss me."

"... what?"

it's muffled behind his arms, but still audible. "want you to kiss me." kylo can /hear/ the pout. kylo pulls his hand out of hux's briefs and nudges his arms aside. hux is biting his lip and peeking up at kylo through his lashes.

"you want me to kiss you?" kylo asks softly. hux nods and tilts his face up shyly. not kissing him doesn't even cross his mind. kylo cups his face gently. he doesn't have to hunch over to reach, hux surges up to meet him. he wraps his arm around kylo's neck, holding on tightly. kylo instinctively wraps his arms around hux's back and neck, supporting him. hux makes a soft sound and parts his lips, wanting kylo inside. hux's lips are so soft and plush against his own, swollen where hux has been biting them. kylo deepens the kiss. he bites hux's tongue teasingly and he whimpers in his arms.

they should have done this ages ago.

hux removes the hand from his hair and puts it back into his pants. kylo laughs softly, but wraps his fingers back around hux's dick anyway. hux sucks on kylo's tongue, while kylo rubs him off slowly.

hux doesn't need much at all before he's trembling and coming in kylo's hand, keening breathily. hux closes his thighs around kylo's hand again, but with none of the strength from before. hux breaks the kiss and hides his face in kylo's shoulder. kylo cradles him through it, praising him quietly. "good job, baby. you did so well."

hux is still half hard, but he whimpers pitifully, so kylo lets go. he scritches hux's happy trail - smearing come everywhere - and pulls him fully into his lap. "feel good?" kylo grins. hux nods and makes a happy sound. he seems more present now; more alert. he digs his fingers into kylo's hair and tugs him down, demanding a kiss. kylo is more than happy to give it to him. "you /can/ be sweet," kylo says against hux's lips, "who'd have thought?"

hux nips his lips and pulls on kylo's hair. hard. kylo breaks the kiss with a laugh and ruffles hux's hair.

hux freezes. "did you just rub come in my hair?"

kylo snorts. "no. rubbed it in your pubes, though," he winks.

hux sits up and looks into his briefs. he glares at kylo over his shoulder. "you're disgusting."

"and you're beautiful."

hux is visibly taken aback, but pushes it down hastily. "don't be daft," he huffs.

kylo smiles softly. he reaches for hux and pulls him close by the sleeve of his t-shirt. he kisses his cheek and rests his forehead against his temple. "wanna do it again?"

hux curls into him and smiles softly.

x-posted to twitter

#kylux #fanfic

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