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madibyrd · 1 year

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Madi goes into withdrawal. People help her.

features in order of appearance: @akbartheolder; @hazelbeaufort; @nickalphonsus; @neshionals; @sagetomashardy

Of the many, many things to get back to, try and recoup and reset all this bloody bollocks back to normal ('People still have to eat, Emre,' Tomas said. Or maybe Emre just imagined him saying it, in his usual resolute flat-eyed fashion) Emre had a top priority. And that was Madi. She'd salvaged him from the tree, but he hadn't seen a glimpse of her since. And after Emre was thoroughly cleaned, fed, and slaked, he found his way to Madi's little home.

"Maz...nnnf," Emre winced as he peered into her home, and his senses retaliated instinctively. He could clock what was happening fairly quickly. The buckets, the smell, the darkness, the stifling heat of her little indoor chulha. It was a lot, but Emre beelined towards Madi. He didn't touch her just yet. "Oi, babes. Maz, can you hear me, luv?"

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Madi was not feeling okay, to say the least. SHe felt like something was trying to burst out of her so badly (it kept bursting out, she couldn't quite move from the bucket), she felt so, so cold, and her heart kept beating so fast, it didn't feel too bad, while a little voice in the back of her mind kept telling her if she only got some alcohol, she could get better. It would be an easy solution.

She didn't actually hear Emre come in, only realized he was near when he spoke, and Madi just raised her hand and gave Emre a thumbs up for a few moments. "Yeah, I can hear you. Hi? Are you--" but she couldn't finish the sentence, her insides came out of her once again. Once that was done, she wiped her mouth and looked over at Emre, "Sorry, I don't think I'm-- not the best company right now."

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

"Dear me, shall I return when you're feeling better then?" Emre asked deadpan before he kissed his teeth and got to work. "Seen you in far worse ways, as you well know, mate. Honestly this is your plan then. Hole up for a few days and just let it pass. You chat with Nesh at least?" Emre bustled, straightening up Madi's little space, organizing it so she had more blankets, better access to the bucket. A wet rag for her mouth. More water in general. And he added more wood for her little oven.

Once things felt more organized, Emre finally folded beside Madi to sit next to her. He touched her damp hair, pushing it back from her pale, slick face. "You're going to need help, you silly little muppet. Why're you even doing this to yourself."

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Madi tried to follow Emre with her eyes as he moved around and chastized her, but after a few moments, she just felt like her head was spinning so instead she closed her eyes and tried to just listen to him, wiping her mouth with the wet rag as well. "I-- maybe. I just-- it's bad now, but it should be better in a bit, okay? I kind of did this once already." Different circumstances, half as old body, but Madi didn't think about that.

She leaned towards Emre and his touch even though she must have been completely disgusting and shouldn't have had to stick to him, but she just wanted the touch. It felt nice. "I need to-- to get better, that is why I am doing it. I need to get better and-- you know, not drinking is how I get better." Even if right now she didn't feel better.

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Emre's brow creased, but he kept stroking Madi's hair when it seemed she was amenable to the touch. At least she seemed to have prepared somewhat; there was a earthenware jug nearby, filled with some blend of coconut and fruit juice. Emre poured out a cup, even if he knew it was likely to just come back up anyway. "Right. This was how you stopped your bender when you was twenty-one like, yeah?" Maybe he got her age wrong, but he recalled the story.

She wanted to 'get better'. All this time, she'd only spoke about how there was no need to get better. How Madi was perfectly fine the way she was. How she didn't need any help; and conversely she didn't think anyone cared enough to help. And also she didn't deserve any help. A whole mess of reasons, but how she wanted to get better. Like aggravating shadows in the corners of his eyes, memories that weren't his flit into his mind. (The sensation of being terribly burned in a fire. Madi screaming, pleading, crying. ) Emre couldn't remember. He didn't want to.

Instead, he offered her the cup of juice and asked carefully, "Why do you want to get better, as you say." What's the point he wanted to add, but...maybe not yet.

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Madi nodded once, but then it made her dizzy, so instead she just croaked, "Yeah, kind of. It was-- it wasn't easy, but I got through it mostly okay." She also got through it while she was completely in shock for days. She also got into a shock after Emre, but things sometimes happened so fast on meridium, it was almost impossible to remain in a daze for long, especially when she also had to save her best friend who didn't actually die.

Sometimes Emre wanted to talk about. What better time than this. (It would have been easier not to say anything, on many levels, but what was the point of holding back now?) "You d-- you died. Because of me. I thought-- I thought you died." She shut her eyes. He was right, even just the few small sips of juice threatened to come back up again, but she was fighting it. "I don't want to hurt people. NOt-- not like that, not in any way. And this-- I am hurting people." And then the juice came out of her.

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

"Mostly okay." Emre called bullshit on that. More like Madi likely went through shite but in the triumph of overcoming the urge, she looked back with rose-tinted glasses. Likely pinkened further by the fact that her sister Liv actually survived, too. He moved the cup closer. "Drink. You'll hate me for it, but drink. Honestly, did you chat with Tomas, or Nesh before going cold turkey, Mazzy." Or maybe Hazel, or maybe not. Everyone struggled return to normal but Emre wasn't even sure what normal was.

He'd died, Madi then spilled onto him. Emre said nothing yet, just remained quiet and tried not to think too hard on what that meant, or what shadows flickered in his periphery. A month in the trees. He didn't die, he didn't fucking die. That thing was not him. Madi corrected himself but Emre still swallowed back bile. "So you think it'll be a piece of cake then. Fixing yourself. Done it before, you can do it again, yeah. Then you'll be right as rain, no harm to no one, no more. Pretty fucking sound plan if you ask me." It wasn't sound. There was something off-kilter about this. Some element missing in Madi's epic detox mission, but Emre couldn't put his finger on what.

Instead, he wrapped an arm around Madi's shoulders, and gave her a little cold squeeze. "I know you'll argue, but you're being quite brave innit luv."

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

"Uh-uh," Madi protested. "I don't want to." But still she took the cup and drank a couple of more sips. It tasted horrible, really, mixed with her own vomit taste, it was just horrible, but at least somewhere deep down she knew she needed it. "Didn't talk to them. Just-- before. Before all of this. But I'm fine." Really, if anything, her talk with Tomas previously should have been indication that doing this alone wouldn't be easy, but she was only hearing and obtaining what Tomas said during his lectures and his talks, so it didn't stick with her.

She gave him the stinky eyes. "I know you are being sarcastic right now, but I don't have any energy to actually argue back." And then he called her brave and certainly no energy to argue even though this was something she would have wanted to even more. So she just buried her head into his shoulder instead, trying to find some energy in his hug. "I should-- I should talk to somebody, right? One of them?" Except... "I can't move. I can't-- I can't get up and find them. Talk to them. I just-- I can't."

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

"There's my girl," Emre purred softly, taking the cup the moment Madi was done with it. A few more beats, and then he'd offer it again. "You're fine, alright." This was absolutely not fine. None of this was fine but Emre wouldn't fight Madi on it. Instead, he exhaled softly. "Seems we can't stop fighting, can we. Wager we've been fighting longer now than we've been friends on this bloody island." That sounded horridly correct, if his timeline was right. If he hadn't done that one thing that ruined them, permanently.

But really, if he hadn't killed Suresh, it would be something else, wouldn't it? It had to be that way. Madi would find out sooner or later. "I'm not being sarcastic," he said, perhaps a bit more plaintively than he meant. "You just won't ever believe me innit. Not anymore."

Madi saw some reason though, in her miserable state. "Obvi, you little plum. I'll go find them and bring them here. Which one would you want then - Tomas or Dr Nesh?" And then because Emre felt he should, he also offered, "Hazel?"

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Madi was never going to drink juice again for the rest of time. Or at least for a really long time. It was horrible, but she gulped it down and hoped and prayed it wouldn't come back up. She could do this. She really could. But not when Emre was saying stuff like that. "Don't-- please, don't--" She wanted to be his friend but this really wasn't the time to have that conversation. "We can have more time in-- in the friendship column. The not-friendship can just be-- a blip. In the long run." Please, Emre, understand what I want to say, she pleaded silently. And the once again she said, "Don't, please. Just-- not now, okay? Later."

She bit her lips, tried to keep things down in her stomach as she took a couple of deep breaths. "Can you-- can you tell either of them? Both of them? Just so that-- so that they know." Breath in, breathe out. "And can you-- can you tell Hazel, too?" No need for an audience, but people knowing-- that couldn't hurt.

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Madi begged, but it wasn't necessary. Emre searched inside him for that inevitable sting of hurt or pining or bitterness at Madi postponing any friendship chat until the ever-nebulous 'later'. As if 'later' was a guaranteed moment of time. He waited to see if his lip would curl, if he'd say something bilious to her and then soothe her rankle with an apology. Poke and prick Madi just enough to get her upset. Because 'upset' meant she still cared. All these options, but Emre just nodded, and licked his lips, all gentle and matter-of-fact as he replied.

"Right, of course luv. Later. Right. What d'you want to chat about then? I could distract you from...all this, yeah. And before you try to send me away, it's not going to work. You're not the only one who loves, you know."

Emre hummed in acquiescence about telling the others. "I'll nip out when you manage to fall asleep." If Madi was able to fall into anything deeper than a fitful sleep. He wasn't sure if she could, but he wouldn't leave her now.

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

"I'm not trying to send-send you away. I-- I'm glad you're here." Would Emre actually believe that? Or would he think it's nothing more than a pain induced declaration she'd take back later? But Madi couldn't quite think about that much. She'd worry about that later, because there would be a later. "I just-- you're right, they should know. Please. I don't think-- I don't think I could sleep anytime soon."

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

"Stop begging, stop saying please. You don't have to beg me," Emre said, his voice caught like a frog in his throat. "Just...just rest. Rest my darling."

Emre stayed with Madi then, and their conversation gently dipped to just random questions Emre asked as he tidied up Madi's home a bit more, made her drink more juice. Held the bucket for her. Wiped her face. Let her chew on mint leaves (cheers Dr Nesh) until she retched again. Read to her from a girl's mag he'd found in her hut. When Madi's squirming slowed slightly, it was just enough for Emre to slip out of her hut and find Hazel. A brief explanation of what Hazel would expect to find, and then a careful request that Hazel pay Madi a visit. Please.

— ✿ ❀ ✿ — — ✿ ❀ ✿ — — ✿ ❀ ✿ —

She agrees. But she agrees with terms: Emre needs to remove any alcohol he might've stowed away in a hiding place that Madi knew about before Hazel is willing to help. She's not going one step forward and three steps back. Not anymore. Not with this.

She's not feeling too well, herself, after so long in the trees. When she'd finally given in to sleep, it'd been for about twelve hours straight. But she's awake now and the early light of dawn is bringing with it some relief. One: the voice that had roused her from that dead sleep is beginning to wane. Two: Madi is doing this. And she wants Hazel here to help her through it.

"You know, um, when I learned about this in school, they said, um – that a negative symptom is a positive sign. Like... like you're feeling really bad, but it's because your body's getting rid of bad stuff. It's doing its job," she tries to reassure as she places a new cold compress on Madi's forehead – which is a bit of a moving target, with how the other woman's shivering. "So, um. So this is a good thing. Even if I'm sure it doesn't, like... feel like it."

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Madi managed to doze off, but despite the fact that she didn't have any dreams (no nightmares either, which was a win for sure), she didn't have a restful sleep. It felt like she was on the verge of something but couldn't push through, and somehow she felt the cold even in the darkness of her sleep.

She wasn't sure what woke her up, she wasn't even quite sure where she was or what was happening, she just knew she was cold and shivering and so cold. So so so ridiculously cold. She was fire attuned, but this felt different somehow. And then a voice came and-- "Hazel, is that you?" she whisperred, her throat hoarse, a world of horrible taste in her mouth. She was still not really feeling well in her stomach, though. "Negative is positive. That sounds weird. Are positives also negatives?" she asked, trying not to focus on the fact that Hazel was right, none of this felt like a good thing.

"What-- what else did you learn? In school?" she needed the distraction, but maybe this wasn't the best topic. "What were you like in school?"

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

“I think… positives are also positives.” Which would make everything positive, which is objectively not true, but… Hazel doesn’t comment on that. Instead she gently puts the back of one hand against Madi’s quivering cheek, trying and failing to hide her grimace. She’s burning up. “Oh, um, yes. It’s me. Hazel,” she answers belatedly.

There’s a lengthy pause between that and her next response, too, as she’s moving the damp cloth from Madi’s forehead to run it over her cheeks, her neck, her arms. Then she returns it to her forehead and closes her eyes, focusing on her attunement so that she can get a breeze going in the room, hoping that plus the water will bring her temp down. “I was… shy, at first. It was intimidating, being around all these strangers, especially because I didn’t do a lot of the conventional school stuff growing up. But I found some friends, and my uh — my first real girlfriend,” she admits on a small laugh. “And then I talked a lot. Too much, probably, but it was, um… I learned a lot. They have you do this thing called clinical, in nursing school, where you like — you have a hands-on experience in every specialty in the hospital. I guess to figure out which you like best. But um, I learned the most then. Sorry, that was — that wasn’t really your question, was it? I don’t know. I was… I learned a lot. Um, how do you feel?”

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

It wasn't possible to fully push out her body's reactions to things, but Madi tried to focus on Hazel's voice, what she was saying. She could just picture younger Hazel careful and shy, wrapping her hands around her books to protect herself, and then opening up as she got to know more people.

"No, it's okay, I-- I like hearing this. I wanna get to know your past, what you were like in all different stages of your life. So if you want to, I could-- I want to listen." Normally Madi probably wouldn't have admitted it this bluntly, would have felt awkward or anxious over it, but the fever was strong enough that she just said it as she felt it. She might feel all the awkwardness later, but for now, she was feeling too bad because of everything else. "I don't-- I don't feel too well," she admitted it. "It's-- really cold. I and it feels like-- I don't know, I don't know how to put it, I just feel like something is not right." She was breathing strangely, though she couldn't quite tell how weird or what was wrong with it.

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

“How’d you train to be a firefighter?” Hazel asked abruptly, wanting to keep Madi distracted but realizing her unnatural breeze is dying out when she’s talking. “That’s a job that, um… requires some practice, right?”

But there are things that can’t be ignored, and as Madi goes on Hazel nods. Her breath’s short but there’s not much that can be done for that, other than soothing other things. Hazel keeps the air moving, as if that’ll promote breathing, then rifles through the bag she brought. There’s yellowslipper, which… isn’t too helpful right now, given that Tomas had told her that its best use is for migraines. Unless… “How’s your head? Oh wait!” Here, a jar of cloudy, light purple liquid. The bobbler fruit’s juice, diluted with water. It doesn’t exactly look appetizing but… it’ll do. “Can you sit up, just a little? Here,” Hazel prompts, using a hand to stabilize Madi’s back as she shifts the other woman up then lifts the jar to her lips. “Take a little sip of this for me. Please. It’ll help you feel less cold.” As Madi works on that, Hazel ticks back a damp strand of the other woman’s hair without a second thought, then clears her throat. “Um… did I ever tell you about the time my sister ended up at the hospital I was working at? It’s a funny story, actually.”

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

"Yeah, a lot." Madi replied quietly, weakly. "You need to be in a certain kind of shape to even apply, and then they build from there. Both teach you what to do in emergencies, how to handle them, how to handle people during those situations. It's a lot. And then we had to keep going to trainings yearly to make sure we're up to par." It was something she didn't originally think she could do, but she wanted to give it a try and it resulted in over a decade of good years on the field.

It was a nice bit of distraction, to talk a bit, but then Hazel asked her to sit up, and the reality of her situation hit her all over again. She didn't want to sit up, didn't feel like she could, but Hazel helped her and she tried to give her a grateful smile. Maybe it turned out more like a grimace, but she was doing her best. "What-- what does that do?" she asked before she took a few small sips.

If the situations was different, maybe she wouldn't have done it, or would have hesitated more, but after a few sips she just laid her head onto Hazel's shoulder so a moment, breathing slowly. "You-- you haven't. Can you tell me?"

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

“Was there, like, a firefighter gym?” Hazel says, half joking, but then realizing, “You know… I don’t think I ever stepped foot into a firehouse back in the world. I’ve only seen them in movies. What was the one that you worked at like?”

Then comes the whole sitting up thing, which is a process, but Madi gets up a bit and that’s good enough. “There you go. That’s good. Just need you to drink this and, you know, um. Don’t want you to choke.” Maybe not the most reassuring, but Madi’s getting little mouthfuls down, so it’ll do. “Okay, that’s good for now. You don’t want to drink too much of this stuff. Trust me,” she grimaces with a little smile, trying to keep it lighthearted despite how Madi’s pallor, her constant shaking, makes her nervous. “This helps with fevers. Which, believe it or not, you’ve got right now.”

Hazel tenses up for a moment when Madi leans against her. Her skin is hot. Not that it hurts, of course, but she’s pretty averse to touching in general and the heat doesn’t help and just last night she’d been thinking — she’d thought — it doesn’t matter. Those had been bad dreams. That’s all. “She was, um…” Hazel grimaces again. “Well, she was drunk. We were in our early twenties, I was in school doing my ER clinical. I was about to leave for the night when suddenly I hear someone calling my name. But not really my name, like, all sorts of nicknames and stuff, and I knew who it was before I even saw her, and Ivy was sitting there in this bed and I was like — like, why are you here, what happened, and she was like I just wanted to see you! Aaaand then she puked. All over.” Hazel laughs a little, a tight sound, but her hand has wandered up, just the lightest touch of her fingertips against Madi’s hair. “The bouncers from the bar made her friends take her to the hospital, but we just gave her some anti nausea meds and I took her home with me. She was okay.” Hazel pauses, taking a shaky breath before trying to say with confidence: “And you will be, too.”

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

"Yes and no," Madi said after a few long moments. "They are accurate, but they usually don't show all and it's not-- they aren't as big and pretty. It would be nice, but it wouldn't. Not every station has a gym, I've worked at one where there wasn't and one where it did."

She didn't choke, thankfully, but in her state, what she was given tasted horrible and she felt like it would be coming back up for a few very long seconds. SHe shot her eyes and grimaced and hoped for the best and this time her stomach was hopefully empty enough it didn't all come back. And hopefully it would help her fever because yeah, "I feel so cold," she muttered. "So badly cold."

She listened to Hazel tell the story with a small, tired smile on her lips. "It sounds like she had a good night." She at least reached the point where just thinking about alcohol made her want to throw up again instead of wanting another drink. Or at least she kept telling herself that and hopefully it would work. That was what got her here, she didn't need it. "Thanks, I hope so too. It doesn't feel like it right now. I just-- I am so cold and so tired." She slowly laid back down onto the bed and closed her eyes. She just woke up but she still felt so tired and while she slept, at least she wouldn't feel everything she did in that moment.

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

“I know,” Hazel murmurs sympathetically when Madi mentions feeling cold, though she can feel the warmth radiating from her skin from here. “This’ll fix that. I—“ Promise. You’re not supposed to do that, not with a patient. But this is Madi. But… still. “I’ll leave it here for you, okay? I-I mean I’m not — I’ll just —“ She starts and stops, frowning for a moment as she stares at the makeshift pillow that Madi had been resting on. It’d be so easy. Maybe it’d be an act of mercy. It’d be fast enough, with how Madi is already breathing, and she might not even fight back, and —

“Yeah, she did. She was, um, she was good at that.” Hazel focuses back in to work up a small smile. And then she does make a promise, of sorts, with Madi’s hot face against her shoulder and her fingertips moving against the other woman’s hair. She could cover her mouth. She could —

“Okay, well, you just get some more rest for now. And I’ll um… I’ll be here for a while.” She gets up and away from the bed as Madi lays back down. It doesn’t help. Not as much as she wishes it would. Hazel wrings her hands in front of herself as she backs a few more steps away. “If you need anything, just um — just let me know. But… but yeah. Get some sleep.”

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Madi just quietly nodded and watched Hazel put the cup down. "You don't have to stay, if you don't want to," she felt the need to say it - even though she wanted her there. It was nice to have her there, even if it was just obligation and being a nurse and working at the apothecary. "Thank you, for being here. I-- I really appreciate it. And you." And she did try to rest after that - not too successfully, it felt almost impossible to properly rest, but she did try at least.

— ✿ ❀ ✿ — — ✿ ❀ ✿ — — ✿ ❀ ✿ —

It wasn’t as if Madi’s absence was unusual, given the chasm that had opened between them in the last month. No less Nick knew from the little flutters of memories that he had amends to make. A mammoth bridge to rebuild. Except there was something else too.

For the last hour Nick had been a sitting vigil, with his feet up on the chair in various contorted and uncomfortable positions. “Hey-hey,” he uttered, at the first sign of movement. “Morning sunshine.” It wasn’t, it was the dead of night, but dry humour was all he could fall back on. He felt out of place and out of depth, he’d only ever been on the other side of this. “How’re you feeling…?”

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Everything hurt, that was Madi's first thought as she slowly came to consciousness. She was still cold, but it also felt like there was just no air in her lugs. She couldn't have properly defined it, all she felt was that something was wrong with herself, it was abnormal.

She needed a few long moments to even realize who was sitting near her, talking to her - but thankfully she recognized Nick in the end. "Heeeeey," she croaked quietly, weakly. "I'm feeling like I should be getting close to-- you know, thinking about being okay." Maybe. There had to be an end to this, there just had to. "Have you been here long?"

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Nick swung his feet down and off the chair so he could scoot forwards just a tiny tad. “I should hope so co-co.” Though it didn’t escape him that her use of thinking as opposed to feeling meant progress was still a way off. “Not long we uh, we had a chat when I arrived.” He lifted one brow and chuckled, “you were telling me a story but it sounded awfully like the plot of the bee movie.”

“Reckon we can get that penned down on paper, yeah? Oldies aren’t gonna know it’s plagiarism.” He teased, but glanced about for the jug and cup he’d been informed of. “Up for something sweet? You’ve got a choice of…papaya or…papaya or…yup still papaya.” Nick smiled, but quickly gritted his teeth in determined ignorance of the voice that needled in his head.

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Madi couldn't remember being up earlier, not when Nick was around, though she didn't know what any of that meant. She just knew she felt really really naseous, like she was becoming ice and she wanted to scratch the wall for some alcohol. She didn't want to, somewhere in the back of her mind she knew it would be better later, but now it just felt like if she could just drink a bit, just a tiny bit, things would be easier again.

"I-- I don't want anything sweet. No papaya or anything," she resisted. "You should-- you know, have some. But I don't--" Madi looked up, and she needed a few moment to realize there was something off. Was that-- no, it couldn't be. Or... "... What are you doing here?"

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Nick resisted the urge to fall for a dramatic sigh, and for a moment just fell silent. Contemplating how he could go about convincing her to take a small sip of something. Anything. Someone had mixed up coconut water with honey for her. It was all speared through by the look of confusion come mild…horror?

Right. Nick couldn’t recall what his evil duplicate had done, except his and Mik’s home wasn’t the only to be ransacked. “To check on you…” Nick heard himself say, plainly ignoring that in part he’d come to apologise. Nick chewed on the inside of his cheek none of that was supposed to be important now. But it still was. He of all people should understand the weight of the past. “Make sure you’re okay, y’know. Look I… I know how you’re feeling, yeah?” Nick said, with a hand to the back of his neck as if he was breaking out in hives at the notion of telling the truth. “I just want to help, as your friend or well y’know drinking partner which makes me guilty by default, I guess? Look—shit, I’m not good at this. What I’m trying to say is, I’m sorry.”

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Nothing really made sense, especially not her dad sitting by her bedside-- wasn't she on Meridium? Did he arrive while Madi was resting and just didn't realzie it? He seemed really relaxed for somebody who just arrived to the island, but... maybe she was out for so long? But then wouldn't she have to feel better by now?

"You-- you make no sense, why would you call me your friend? And drinking partner? We aren't-- I don't think we drank together more than like, two times and even that was before--" Her heartrate was picking up. Whenever she was sick, it wasn't even her dad who was with her, he could barely take care of himself, let alone the kids, was what her mom always used to say. Typical men, she would say. And now he was here, sitting by her bedside. Him apologizing for something he hasn't even done kinda explained why her mom always said that, really. "Dad, what are you talknig about?"

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Nick had thought it was all on par, confusion and a little disorientation. She was still deep in the throes of it. Gentle encouragements probably the way to go, right? Except Nick was caught off guard. She so innocently and quietly provided an answer to all the confusion. “No, no, Mads I’m not your dad.” Would it be better to play to her confusion? Shit.

He scooted forward to press the back of his hand lightly to her forehead, except just as it was with Mik he didn’t dare touch. “Shit. Right, okay, Madi.” Nick fetched a fresh cloth to press to her forehead mopping up what sweat he could. “Deep breaths, yeah? Easy, easy, I’ll go get the doc.” This was way out of his remit.

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Madi closed her eyes for a moment - she wasn't a little kid anymore, but it was still kind of nice to have her dad be here and take care of her, try to take her temperature. It was all fine. She probably was just too tired still at first and thought it was Nick, nothing else.

"No, dad, don't say you're not my dad. I know things always haven't been the best but you're still my dad," Madi insisted, her breathing picking up as she tried to push herself up a bit to insist better. What logic there was, she wasn't sure, but she needed to make sure her dad stayed. "Please, don't leave. I-- I'm good enough for you to stay, we don't need a doctor," she pleaded. "Please, just stay."

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Nick stared, what sort of person would he be if he indulged this? More still if he refused her? He grimaced, but stayed where he was. “Okay, okay I’m not going anywhere.” Fuck. An all too familiar suffocating blanket of guilt encompassed him. He urged her to lay flat again. Then pulled the chair back close to perch on the edge of it.

This would be an ideal time to be fucking air attuned. Nick cautiously touched his hand to hers. She was too hot for him to hold. Much less that needle of temptation from a foreign voice came forth. “You’re alright, yeah? Sleep this off and then tomorrow…” What was he doing? “I’m sorry.” What difference did it make if the apology came from the wrong shitty parent, to the wrong burdened kid? “Tomorrow we’ll I don’t know…how about go climb to top of that mountain? Yeah? You can be ontop of the world.”

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Madi felt like she calmed down once her dad reassured her he would stay, but her breathing didn't actually slow, it was simply Madi's perception. "That-- that sounds great, I would love that," she said with a small, weak smile on her face, only for it to drop mere moments after. "I-- I don't feel so good, dad," she whispered as she started shaking more and more.

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Generic. He could keep this up if he stayed, generic. Plain bland father figure. Except her face fell, and with it so did Nick’s hope for her as the tremors grew more obvious. The severity growing by the second. “It’s okay, yeah?” But words weren’t much of a distraction nor medicine in this matter. Nick was close to giving up and abandoning Madi to find that damn doctor when —

— ✿ ❀ ✿ — — ✿ ❀ ✿ — — ✿ ❀ ✿ —

‘Shit, thank god you’re here. She’s seeing things man, I don’t think she’s in a good way—‘

Then, Nick had left. Now it was just Madi and him, all alone. In moments like this, Neshdan embodied calm and quiet. His fingers removed the wet cloth from her forehead and he used his attunement to draw the water out of the soft material, just to gently let the water wash some of the sweat from her face. „Deep breaths. Nice and steady.“ His hands moved to push her to her left side, then held her, one of his soft and cold hands wrapped tight around her right arm. „What’s going on, Madi?“, he asked, his words as composed as his mind. „What are you feeling? Try and describe it to me.“

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Something was happening, that much Madi could feel, but then all she could see was her dad stepping away and then somebody else coming into the frames - the doctor from around. What was going on with her. "Pain. It-- it hurts, I--" But she couldn't finish the sentence. Her shakes that she thought were nothing more than due to the cold got worse in only a second and she was just shaking now, unable to speak, just groan from the pain.

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

„It’s okay. Madi, it’s okay. Deep breaths.“ Obviously, that was easier said than done, and he knew that. But there was nothing much he could do except from holding her, cooling her down through his own, icy body and timing the shakes. As he waited for her to calm down and for the shakes to subside, he remembered brief mentions of how she’s been drinking, and about how she might want to quit. No epilepsy, then, just seizures as her blood and body was getting rid of the alcohol.

Slowly, Neshdan sat down next to her, continued to keep her laying on left her side and then pushed a few strands of hair out of her face, gently pushed her mouth open for the part of a second to check for her tongue. „Everything’s all right, Madi. It will stop.“

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

There were voices vaguely next to Madi, but she wasn't fully there in the moment. She could hear what Nesh was saying, somewhere at the back of her mind she understood that he was there, that she was as safe as she could be in this situation, but she was not there, not fully. Her body took over, shaking uncontrollably, her spit dripping from her, while she kept groaning in pain. At the forefront of her it was nothing but pain.

She wasn't sure how long it lasted, she couldn't tell when it all started, or even when it started getting better, but her her body was stuff, her head was pouding as the shaking slow stopped and her body relaxed.

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

„Okay,“ Nesh said when she was slowly calming down, „Okay. You’re okay.“ When the shaking had fully subsided, he allowed her to lay down on her back again, but his hands stayed on her shoulders, for some reassuring touch. „You were having a seizure.“, he explained as he carefully took the dried cloth to wipe her spit away, „which can occur when you’re going through withdrawals. It’s rare, and I don’t think that it’ll happen again. When’s the last time you’ve eaten something? When did you last have something to drink?“

A lot of questions for someone that’s still partially knocked out, but it’s better to distract her. „When was the last time you had alcohol?“

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Seizure. Madi was having a Seizure. This was nothing like what she's experienced before and her exhausted brain of hers told her it really was a ridiculously stupid idea to even attempt to do this on her own - what would have happened if nobody came looking for her?

But they did. They did come looking. She was so convinced she was alone for so long but if that were the case, nobody would have been here.

She curled up as she laid down and closed her eyes as she listened to the doctor's questions. "Drink is-- I don't know, after this started. People-- they kept making me drink." Her voice was pained and weak, but at least she had some semblance of herself and her surroundings now. "Everything else before people got out of the trees."

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Nesh paused for a moment to take in her features, check for any other symptoms as she laid there. „Your symptoms are quite severe.“, he said, before his fingers reached for hers. Then, for a few minutes, he simply held her hand, fingers intertwined as he applied gentle pressure. Sometimes, that was all patients needed - and he had held many hands, as they struggled to fall asleep, cried, or died.

„We’re going to wait another fifteen minutes and then I’ll get you something to eat. Is that fine with you?“, he asked, now both of his hands holding one of hers. „I’ll sit with you for a while, watch over you while you rest. I told Hazel where I am, and she’ll know to get me in cases of Emergency.“

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Madi didn't have much strength in her, her entire body felt quite numb and wobble, for lack of a better word, but when Nesh took her hand and gently squeezed it, she tried squeezing it back. It was probably barely sensable, but she tried anyway.

"Not really sure if my-- my stomach can handle anything. But maybe-- maybe something to drink." Her throat did feel dry a bit, though she also tasted whatever was the effects of the last few hours? days? in her mouth, so even just getting some of that out would have been great. "Thank you. So much-- for all of this," she said quietly, her eyes closing down. as she tried to rest some more, not letting go of Nesh's hands for any bit.

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

„I’ve barely done anything.“, is his honest reply, and Nesh doesn’t even have to leave to get some water, because one of the people that visited her before him left some. It’s not much, but probably enough for now. „Do you want me to get anyone?“, he asks, and he doesn’t know her well enough to know if there’s someone she could ask for.

As he waits for her reply, he makes sure to clean up some of the mess in her hut, lets some fresh air in and gives her a fresh and wet cloth to wipe some of her sweat away, just in case she wants to. „Take it easy, yeah?“

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Nesh claimed he hasn't done enough, but Madi didn't feel that way, but she was too tired to argue against it. She just wanted to feel normal. She'd thank him for his help later, once she could think properly.

She pushed herself up a bit to drink some water - it didn't quite sit well with her just yet, but it wasn't as bad as before. The reaction that became a habit for her in recent months that it would be easier if it was alcohol came up, but she gripped the cup of water harder and drank from that instead. "I'll-- yeah, I'll take it easy," she said taking the washing cloth away from him and then before he left, she added, "If you could-- you know, if you bump into Tomas and could ask him, I wouldn't mind if he came." It felt awkward to even ask and her insides told her she should just remain alone, but that was what got her into this in the first place. She needed to be done with that, or at least try to.

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

"in case you throw up, please refrain from drinking for about fifteen minutes. Rinsing your mouth is fine, though. Try to eat light foods, nothing too hot, and as health as possible. Take your time to rest, Madi. I'll try and check up on your bees. From a distance." Nesh gifted her one last gentle smile, before collecting the utensils from the emergency kit he's brought. "If you happen to seize again, don't worry, it will pass. Just make sure to try and get me to come, yeah?" The man gently patted her head, then raised from the ground, took a deep breath and left the hut, just to go and look for Tomas.

— ✿ ❀ ✿ — — ✿ ❀ ✿ — — ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Madi was in a sleep so deep that Tomas couldn't wake her when he came in. But Nesh had assured him that Madi was past the worst of the danger, and after checking her himself Tomas found that the girl's sleep was restorative more than worrisome, so he passed the time in slowly and carefully giving her a sponge bath. Madi, he felt, had long since crossed the threshold of either of them being too precious about varying states of undress in front of each other, especially in a situation like this.

"Hey there," Tomas said, when she finally started to stir. "You're looking better." He adjusted on the stool he was sitting on, looking her over again, and then said, "--actually, you look terrible. Better put off competing in the Miss Mystery Island pageant this year."

Tomas passed his hand against Madi's forehead, brushing back her damp, sticking curls. "I brought coconut water. You should have some. It's the best thing to rehydrate you." He busied himself pouring the water out of the nut into a cup for her to manage more easily; it was chilled down, courtesy Emre's ice and Tomas' lingering sleety air attunement. Much nicer that way, and easier for her to swallow.

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Madi both felt better and not at the same time, so to hear that she looked better was-- yeah, that sounded strange, but Tomas quickly corrected himself. "Damn it, that was my dream all along. How will I-- you know, go on now, knowing I don't have a chance to compete this time?" at least her tired voice was just perfect for this deadpan delivery for the joke. And that did make her feel a bit better, waking up to Tomas joking with her.

She struggled, but after a bit she did manage to push herself up onto a sitting position. Her entire body felt like a bulldozer went through it, but hey, that was to be expected, right? She hoped so. "Hey," she finally greeted him and took the coconut water, "Thanks." She took a couple of sips, didn't dare take more before she knew how her stomach would handle it. "How-- how long have you been here? Hope you didn't have to wait too long while I slept."

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

"Don't fuss," Tomas said, grumpily, when she started in with hoping he hadn't been there too long. "It's my time to spend however I damn well want. The doc was very delicate with giving me an update, by the way. I guess he's still going by doctor-patient confidentiality rules." Tomas gave Madi a tired, soft smile; an unusual expression for him, really. "But we know better, don't we." He reached over, putting his hand around hers on the cup. "My poor girl. Been through the fuckin' wringer."

Tomas let his hand linger there for a moment before drawing in a breath and looking around, pointing at a covered plate. "Brown sugar arepas, and fried plantain, for when you need to eat something," he said, more briskly. "Easy to eat, sugar and salt, which you need. Were you hallucinating? Did you have any seizures? I'll bring you more food when you need it, we can build you back up depending on how much you can manage, but you should be able to keep it down if you're slow and steady."

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Madi just nodded at Tomas insisting that he wanted to spend his time as he pleased, and when he put his hands around her hands, she looked down for a long moment and then back to Tomas' face. "Your poor girl?"

Why didn't she say how she felt for so long, Alex asked. She was the dick for just expecting and assuming how others felt and now here she was needing the reassurance. And she did need the reassurance, but at least she'd say it now. "I wasn't-- wasn't sure for a while. I know you tried to help now, but before... I just thought that wasn't the case, I'm sorry."

She took a couple of more sips from the coconut water as Tomas talked about what else he brought. "I-- am not actually sure." Did she hallucinate, have seizures? She couldn't really remember much but then-- "I think so, yeah. Unless you're gonna tell me that my dad showed up here and tended to me while I was-- during it." And then she added, "thank you, for everything you brought and coming in general. Helping."

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

For a moment, Tomas thought Madi's repeating his words was her objecting to the familiarity, and he was hanging on to see if he needed to walk that back when she went on to say that she hadn't been sure. If that was how he thought about her. "Madison," he said, as she sipped the coconut water and then thanked him, "I've always cared about you. From the very start. With everything that you brought to my farm, all of your -- your enthusiasm, and your dedication, and ..."

He stopped there, giving her a considering look. "You wanna know a secret?" Tomas said. "Emre's not my problem child. You are."

Leaving it there would only make her anxious, so he didn't pause before explaining: "I know him. I understand how he works, mostly, or at least in relation to me and our farm. When he fucks up or we disagree I get it, the fundamental elements of it. But you, sweetheart..." Tomas shook his head, that smile reappearing. "You turn me upside down, sometimes. You I don't get, even though we're probably more alike than Emre is to either of us. Who knows, maybe that's exactly why. But the ways you react to things, your personal moral code, I have to work at grasping how you see the world. And I haven't always been very kind about it."

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Everything Tomas was telling her felt like a rollercoaster ride - up and then down and then up. For a second, when he called her the problem child, Madi's stomach dropped, but then Tomas was quick to explain and it made more sense afterward, and definitely less scary, less negative. She didn't feel like she fully grasped it, but it also made sense.

"I-- I didn't think there was a problem child," was the first thing that came out of her, mostly because she didn't even know what to say to any of what Tomas just confessed. "Sorry, that isn't-- doesn't matter. I never thought anything about me was that complicated. Or I guess maybe that's why. I-- I'd like it if you understood me. If you wanted to. Even if it comes with unkind words sometimes, I can handle it. I know the precedent doesn't show that, but I-- I want to get better. About a lot of things."

She remained silent for a few moments, gently tapping at the cup with her fingertips, before she said, "I think I really want you to see me good, worthy. I-- I cannot really explain how, but I feel like in this regard, you are different from the others. You are just-- you are so effortlessly careless and helpful and kind while also sticking to your own sense of moral, and I just-- I really, really want you to think of me the best possible way you could, and when we didn't agree and argued, I automatically jumped to the other side, assuming the worst. No, not assuming, fearing it. I just didn't want you to think less of me, and I thought you did, so-- I'm sorry."

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Tomas rumbled a little when Madi said that she hadn't known about the way he saw them, but ultimately he didn't protest. Because what she was telling him was more important, and he nodded, saying, "I'm not all-knowing, Madi. I stumble too, when it comes to people whose ideas don't jive with mine in a way I'm comfortable I can understand -- but I want that. To work through this and start to recognize your patterns. Your -- bee-flight."

She lapsed into a silence, and Tomas got up and moved around for a few moments, tidying things pointlessly before drifting back to take his seat again as Madi continued. "I already see you as good, and worthy," Tomas protested, "but I can see how you wouldn't think so, or at least weren't convinced. I think our languages are different. So maybe I need to stress the positive with you some more. So you feel better about helping me see your point of view, and you feel less stressed when it comes to explaining things to me." He crinkled his nose. "Even if I'm a bear about it. Now you know that it doesn't mean I think less of you."

Picking up one of the soft cloths he'd brought, Tomas dipped it in a bowl of cool liquid and took Madi's free hand, wiping at the inside of her forearm with it. "Water with bay leaves and lime," he explained. "My mom used to like this. When she was sick. It kept her cool and the scent freshened things up a bit."

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

"I know that, nobody is. I just-- I guess sometimes it's harder to notice those stumbles with certain people. Or maybe I didn't want to notice, I don't know anymore. But i'm trying-- well, saying I am trying to actively see the negatives feels weird, but I just-- I'm trying in general, I guess." Madi wanted to change her outlook on many things - be a bit more open, not shut herself off from people. It was plenty of steps too many on that regard, and it started with not doing that to those she was already close with.

"You're not a bear, I just-- it started when Emre-- when Suresh happened. We clashed and things... were said, and afterward I just-- I avoided you and then when we did speak, I just couldn't hear things anymore, or only as I wanted to." She needed a lot of time to think through this, pick apart interactions not with just Tomas, but with other people too, and realize all the ways she's been wrong.

Tomas started wiping at her forearm and she let out a long sigh of relief - it did feel good. "This is good. Speaking of-- you told me so much personal things. About your mom, about you. And I just brushed them off. I am sorry. I should have seen it as you trying to reach, out, trying to help, instead of-- everything."

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Now it was Tomas' turn to be quiet for a while, as he kept soothing Madi's arm and then gestured for her to switch hands with the cup and give him the other arm. "Drink a little more," he said, and then more awkwardly in response to her apology, "It's fine."

But Tomas stopped, holding the cool, damp cloth in the crook of Madi's elbow. "No," he said, sounding a little peeved with himself, "actually, it's not. I'm not saying that to be mad at you, I understand why in the state you were in, you couldn't exactly extend any empathy, but -- it's not fine. It's not easy for me to tell people anything about myself, especially my childhood or ... being abused, or my mom being an alcoholic, or how she died. How ugly all of it was. And I need to break my own fear that nobody thinks these things that happened to me were important."

He blew a breath through his teeth, patting the cloth against Madi's arm and then dipping it in the bowl again, sitting closer to press it against her temples in turn. "There you go," Tomas said wryly, wiping her forehead. "I'm all messy and listening to bad internal messages too. So we better both start arguing down those shitty thoughts, huh."

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Madi took a couple of more sips and listened - it would have been so much easier if Tomas would have kept it all at "it's fine", but this was better, this was more honest and they needed that. Even if it was harder this way. "I really am sorry, both for how I reacted and that all of it had to happen to you and you had to experience that. I don't want to-- I don't want this to be the reason why in the future you'd decide not to share with me, either about this, or about anything else."

She leaned into his hand a bit as he pressed the cloth against her temple, closing her eyes and breathing in deeply. "Yeah, we better start. We can-- you know, help each other. If we see the other doing their thing, we can have some kind of secret code or something, just a little check in that nobody else would understand but the two of us? Something like, I don't know, the papayas are not ripe enough or something. Some farm talk so people wouldn't question it either."

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Tomas snorted at Madi's proposed code, saying, "No, no, that's got too high a probability of somebody asking follow-up questions or giving us advice on how to force-ripen a papaya. Did I tell you when I was a kid what we called them was pawpaws? Saying papaya feels weird to me. But there's a fruit that grows in Kentucky that's also called a pawpaw. I suppose if you know them both it would get confusing."

This wasn't much of a pressing concern and Tomas knew it, but it felt good to ramble on about nonsense for a minute while he recalibrated. "I'll buzz you," he decided. "And you buzz me. That's all, bzzt. Short and sweet and people will just think we like imitating bees. Or buzzers."

He replayed that in his head and took her hand, guiding the cup to his own mouth for a sip of the coconut water. "Could be I'm a little dehydrated myself," Tomas huffed, letting her have it back. He wiped his face with the saturated cloth before dropping it into the bowl and leaning forward, elbows on his knees, one hand against Madi's thigh. "I'm glad to see you getting on top of this thing, peach," he said. "It hasn't felt right. You and Emre both unbalanced and out-of-sorts. I want us -- I want us all to heal."

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Pawpaws and papayas - something Madi never would have guessed they would talk about during the conversation, but it felt like a nice little respite, and when he gave her his idea, she let out a small, tired chuckle. "Bzzt. Yeah, I can work with that. That could be easy."

She gave him a smile, nodded. "I want us to heal too. I want us to be able to go back to-- well, maybe going back to how things were isn't going to be possible, not after everything, but maybe something similar. Or something better even, if it's possible." She hoped it would be - she would work as much as she possibly could to have it back.

FINISHED.

#emre #emre 038 #hazel #hazel 019 #nick #nick 004 #neshdan #neshdan 001 #tomas #tomas 017 #interlude 11 #sometimes a little help is all you need #thank you so so SOOO much for everyone who participated #and did this with me #it was really really fun and emotional and i am eternally grateful

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denizmavisiigibii · 2 years

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Sizi kapısının önünden kovanları değil, kapınızın önüne çiçek bırakan insanları sevin.

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sidonius5 · 2 years

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tamyrawilliams · 1 year

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Emre comes to massage Tamyra and they end up talking about a lot of things. Revelations are being had, decisions are being made. ft @akbartheolder

Emre slowly his way towards Tamyra's home. It had been a while; granted Emre got those hazy green blips still, some flickering memories featuring Tamyra's lovely face...only that hadn't been Tam, just like that fake hadn't been him. It would be easy to avoid Tamyra these days - they both seemed occupied these days, and after their last attempt to find Kaz went so south, things just...fizzled. Went stale. No need to talk about it; neither of them were like that. Tamyra left angry, Emre left despondent, and they simply didn't reconnect since.

But Emre wasn't the type to let things lay fallow for long, not when he found himself thinking about Tamyra. Maybe even missing her company, honestly. She'd been the first person to find him on Meridium, when Flight 441 crashed; he wasn't ashamed to say he'd grown rather attached to Tamyra Williams, in a strange, detached, fond way.

"Oi, Tammy-darling," Emre called out, once he got closer. "You about? It's been a little while innit." Emre lifted the bottle of scented coconut oil, gave it a waggle. "I come bearing an offer."

— ⋆ ✯ ⋆ —

Tamyra didn't really expect Emre to show up at her place that afternoon - or any afternoons these days, really. They didn't really talk anymore, not as casually and often as before, and that was generally normal for Tamyra for the most part. And with Emre, that was mostly the pattern, even if this was a longer period than it ever has been before.

Not that she minded, not for one bit. Emre was fun and they worked well together, definitely one of the good ones from that plane crashing.

"Hey, I'm here, what's up?" she leaned against her entrance door's frame after Emre's initial call out to her, watching him get closer, wiggle that scented coconut oil in his hands. "Oh, and you brought a gift with that offer as well, now I must hear that out. Especially if it ends with that oil in my home. I am starting to get low on my own bottle. Whatever you are doing, keep doing it, by the way, they are too good, my skin is much happier using these than anything else, really."

— ⋆ ✯ ⋆ —

"I don't intend to stop making oil, if that's what you mean...but that bloody fake of mine used up all the oil during that month, and never bothered to make any more. I'm getting on that, but - this is from my personal reserve innit. Been cleaning out my old home and I found it. Better to use it than save it so...I thought to myself: who would like a massage? And, well -" Emre motioned to Tamyra. "Person on the island who deserves it the most, obvi."

Emre let himself smile. "And before you think I'm just being English and sarcastic, I am thinking about public morale innit. My theory is - if Tamyra Williams is happy and well-oiled and relaxed mood, she'll strut about giving everyone something gorgeous to look at. And she'll be dazzling and happy. Then - everyone will be happy."

A shrug. "Pretty good theory if you ask me. So. You up for it, darling? Or I could just leave it here."

— ⋆ ✯ ⋆ —

Tamyra couldn't help a small smile on her lips that grew bigger and bigger as Emre kept on explaining her theory. Keeping her happy - with oil and personal massage, no less! - and through that keeping the entire island happy too. She could easily see where this was going, but she wasn't going to send Emre away, no. She could have some fun herself.

"Definitely a good theory, yes. I can get behind it. Anyone keeping me happy is something I am down for, and I will never turn away good oil and free massage. Come on in, though, you cannot just keep standing there if you wanna massage me," she said and let Emre in.

“I've got some water that I can offer-- well, I have more, really, but I think the water is the best thing I can offer to a waterbaby, right?" She handed over a bottle of fresh water. "So how are your massaging skills exactly? What can I expect?"

— ⋆ ✯ ⋆ —

"Water's fine," Emre accepted readily. "More thirsty than usual after them bloody trees innit." He took the water bottle and drained a third of it right there, then scoffed as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "These hands is proper talented, sweetheart. Ask any married woman from my ends. Happy endings for the lot of them." A brag as he cracked his knuckles, rolled his shoulders as if getting warmed up to win a marathon.

He motioned to Tamyra's fancy bed. "Want to do it there, or you got a place outside to stretch out in the sun? Tell me where it aches and let me do the rest, yeah?"

— ⋆ ✯ ⋆ —

"Same with me. I feel like no water is enough these days." Though she mostly just spent time in the water - but Tamyra didn't work on the farm, she could have hours just to chill in water while Emre during all of that probably spent working his ass off on the farm.

She grinned. "Am I getting a happy ending too? Or is that not part of the offer here?" she couldn't help but ask before moving over to her bed. "Here's alright." She untied her bikini top and after a moment's of hesitation, she laid down onto her bed on her stomach - her burn scars on her back showing, but it's not like she could have hidden them anyway. "My shoulders and that top part of my back is where it aches most, if you could start there, please."

— ⋆ ✯ ⋆ —

"All I taste is green. Honestly I don't mind eating my veg - especially if curried right - but when I'm eating a bloody egg or fish and it still taste like bloody plant?" Emre kissed his teeth. "And that's not the half of it, innit. All types of problems since them bloody trees."

Tamyra teased, and Emre smiled. "I'm full-service, always. Whatever the lady wants," he said, the least aggressive proposition that Emre had ever used with Tamyra. As he knelt next to her bed, Emre removed his grandfather's ring from his finger, and the little shell bracelet from his wrist. He dangled it proudly in front of Tamyra's face, where she was reclined. "Like that? Wren made it for me, didn't she. Talented little thing, she is. Check - it says 'akhi'. Means 'brother'. She actually carved that in!"

He put it on Tam's little table, then squeezed some oil in his palms, rubbing it to warm it up before placing his hands on Tamyra's smooth shoulders. Scars or not - "Bloody hell, you've got the most gorgeous skin, luv."

— ⋆ ✯ ⋆ —

"Yeah, let's not even get into all the other problems." The need for water or the taste almost felt small, compared to the other consequences, and Tamyra didn't want to think about it right now. Just about the massage and that happy ending. "The lady definitely wouldn't mind a happy ending, mister," she smiled and gotten ready to just sink into her bed, enjoy his fingers and whatever else he wanted to do with her.

And then Emre had to take off a bracelet made of shells, dangle it in front of her face until she really looked at it and rub it in that Wren made it for him. She made one for Tamyra too, except she had no idea where it was now and she was pretty sure she would never get one more. That ship has sailed.

But no, focus, Tamyra. Massage, oil, Emre's hands, happy ending. "I knooooow. And your oils help them immensely," she sighed and tried to focus on his hands but then. "So you're one of those who deserves a Wren jewlery, hmm? Gets it even made especially for you..." She was not bitter or hurt, no. Not at all. Nor did her shoulders and most of her body tense up. Not. At. All. "How lucky you are."

— ⋆ ✯ ⋆ —

In response to her invite, Emre leaned in, dragging a slow kiss between Tamyra's shoulder blades, to the sweet jut of her spinal bone.

But then he focused. Because Emre actually did enjoy giving massages. It wasn't just all about the ulterior purpose - granted he'd never massage a man...well maybe he could imagine his hands on one man. Oh, and Iyaz of course - so much as just the feeling of success. Having a woman moan in the pleasure of worked muscles, the pleasure of touching her skin, giving attention, making someone happy through touch alone. He kneaded the heel of his palm against Tamyra's back, searching out the little knots and tense spots.

"I made her promise me to make one," Emre smiled, glancing at the pretty little bracelet. But he must've hit a pressure point, at the way Tamyra tensed. Emre pushed through. "Don't be jealous, c'mon. I'm sure she'll make one for you too innit. I don't need to be unique, just the first."

— ⋆ ✯ ⋆ —

"I'm not jealous," Tamyra snapped, not at all convincing that she wasn't, in fact, jealous. Even though she wasn't. She was hurt and annoyed and hated how effected she was, but she wasn't jealous. Nope.

"And anyway, I doubt she would make anything for me. She made it very clear that she wants nothing to do with me, so no bracelets or anything for me," she grumbled. Even though she did get one for herself. Probably the first one, despite what Emre thought his was. But admitting that would require explaining the fact that she didn't know where hers was or why Wren wouldn't make her another one and that was too embarrassing, so she just kept it for herself. Instead, she tried to get away from the topic, as one naturally does. "Can you-- a little bit further up-- there, yeeeah, right there, please."

— ⋆ ✯ ⋆ —

Emre didn't pause in his attentions to Tamyra's muscles, but he was somewhat thrown off, surprised when Tamyra snapped at him. 'I'm not jealous' in a tone Emre knew quite well - from women, from his own mouth on occasion. 'I'm not jealous' to rhyme with 'I am extremely jealous'.

But why? Tamyra had a sister of her own apparently; surely she didn't want Wren as her sister too. The only other option was...nah. Emre mulled over Wren and her crush, but it couldn't possibly be Tamyra. That would be like saying Beyoncé was your crush; everyone did it, no one actually got it.

So he just moved to where Tamyra wanted him, fingers pushing down on a particularly hard knot. "Like that?" Emre asked quietly, accommodating where Tamyra shifted to get it just right. He worked at the muscle for a bit and then said, "I...think I made up with Kaz. I think...I think we sorted things out, a bit. He don't hate me no more, erm, I don't think. Took work, but. It was my doing, wasn't it."

— ⋆ ✯ ⋆ —

Thankfully Emre didn't push the topic even though Tamyra wasn't quite subtle, and she rewarded him with moan as he knotted out a hard spot. "Yeah, just like that, don't stop please." Just a good massage and now no more talk of Wren and those stupid jewlery. Stupid, pretty, meaningful jewlery, but whatever.

Kaz was a much better topic anyway. "Yeah? I'm glad. I still don't fully understand what happened, but he is a good one, so getting him to not hate you anymore is good. And just-- whatever you're doing, keep it up. I am sure it'll work." She was curious, though. "What did it? What did you do that convinced him to forgive you?"

— ⋆ ✯ ⋆ —

The last time Emre and Tamyra had talked about Kaz - or tried to - Emre had snapped at her. Told her he never wanted to talk about and of that with her again. He remembered feeling hurt, misunderstood and frustrated by (what he'd thought at the time) relentless pushiness. At the time, he'd hoped that Tamyra would be understanding and soft with him.

Well. The least he could do now, was give her that patience and softness he'd desired back then.

He smiled at her soft moan, her body relaxing more, muscles warming up nicely. "Right, well. The reason he cut me out, was because I was a dick to him innit. I was getting worked up over - over another matter that he was trying to help me with. It got too much, and I took it out on him, yeah. Said - I accused him of some horrid things, man. Told him he didn't give a fuck about me and that."

Emre kissed his teeth. "Pushed him away, didn't I. Like a prat, all because I was too scared and hurting innit." And to answer Tamyra's cautiously curious question. "Dunno if he's forgiven me yet, but I asked him for another chance, right. Because I missed him. And because I know I fucked up. And...fucking hell, I missed him so badly, Tam. It hurt how much I missed him."

— ⋆ ✯ ⋆ —

Emre was trying to be patient and soft with Tamyra, and if Tamyra knew what he was doing, she would have appreciated it, but she didn't have a clue. She just figured they changed the topic - Emre wasn't always open about Kaz, that was part of their falling out initially too, so now it was interesting to hear Emre's side of it.

"You pushed him away and this isn't just anyone, it's Kaz, and he takes those things deeper than just anyone, so his trust is harder to earn back," she summarized what happened the way she saw him. "But he's given you another chance, right? You didn't just ask for one, he said he's open to it? I think as long as Kaz is open, you guys will patch things up."

Those last few words of his stuck deeper than she thought they would, though. And...fucking hell, I missed him so badly, Tam. It hurt how much I missed him. It hit her in that moment just how much she related to that sentiment, when it came to Wren. Even if she should not have felt like that - when Emre and her weren't talking much, she was just fine, she wasn't aching or thinking about what Emre threw into her face in the middle of an argument, and Wren and her weren't even fighting, she still just kept hearing those words, they way Wren dismissed her.

Ugh, she hated this. She didn't want this kind of revelations, it only made her feel worse. So instead she shifted and turned around and pushed her upper body up onto her forearm and leaned in, pressed her lips against Emre's. That was what they both wanted, right? They could just skip the foreplay-talk and get right to it.

— ⋆ ✯ ⋆ —

"Who knew our Kaz would take things so deep. About me..." Emre murmured ruefully, his smile crooked and wry. But he hummed, agreeing that Kaz's trust was understandably tough to earn back. "Never thought someone would go that hard, not for the likes of me. Know what I mean? Sounds pathetic, but whatevs. Honestly still hard to believe, but I'm trying innit. Just got to knock some other fucked-up thoughts from my head."

And it seemed Tamyra had an idea how to do that. Emre leaned into the kiss without any protest, tasting her sweet perfect mouth. Even the little dip that the scar left on her upper lip - perfect against the swipe of his exploring tongue. A good, intense kiss, dotted by a shorter one, then a smaller one over that. And then, Emre pressed his forehead against Tamyra's, breathing heavily, mint and coconut.

"You sure I'm who you want, Tam? C'mon. I know I threw a pissy little wobbly about all this, before, but. I'm trying to be better about it. I missed our chats too." Emre continued his kisses along her nose, in the soft wet flutter of her eye. "Who would you rather be kissing right now, darling."

— ⋆ ✯ ⋆ —

The bottoming jokes were right there on the tip of Tamyra's tongue, but then the last second she decided to hold it back. They were actually talking about something good without arguing, she didn't want to mess it up with a badly times joke. Instead, she said, "And you got the attention of a good one. Kaz is a catch - but I am sure you're aware of that."

Then the kissing - thank god they were both into each other and knew that they could just provide easy fun to each other. Emre was always safe in that regard, and it was probably one of the best things that he showed up at her door.

And yet, something was missing. Something was glaringly missing and she could feel it in that moment - even though in the past it was mostly passion and physical between Emre and her, even that kind of desire and need was missing from Tamyra. She just wanted to forget and wanted anything else other than thinking about Wren but apparently Emre could not provide that. But still, she wanted to keep going, wanted to try and find a way to get lost in Emre.

Except he had different ideas, and Tamyra groaned when he pulled away, when he stopped them in the gentlest way possible. She didn't need gentle, she needed Emre to blank her mind. Instead he stepped right in the middle of what she didn't want to talk or think about.

"I'm not wishing to be kissing anyone else." She moved her head, pressing her lips against his again but even that attempt failed, nothing, she was just getting more frustrated, so instead she entangled herself from Emre completely suddenly - if he was closer, it was all soft and kind and she didn't want any of that right now. Instead she moved to the furthest part of the bed, pulled her knees up to her chest and ran her fingers through her hair. "Wren!"she snapped."I wish you would be Wren right now, are you fucking happy? Is that what you wanted to hear? I wish you were Wren and that is the last thing Wren would ever want so there. No jewlery, no nothing from her for me."

— ⋆ ✯ ⋆ —

Tamyra was getting all tense again, undoing Emre's work on her with every unsatisfied shift and frustrated moan. She wanted this, but she didn't want this. Emre could feel it on her, or maybe within her. Maybe it was because they were waterbabies, but Emre could feel her pulse and currents like restless waves before a storm.

Tamyra could've told him to shut up and just fuck her like she wanted. Emre would've complied, even if he really had just come by to do something nice for her, a massage and maybe a bit of a reconnect. Fucking Tamyra senseless hadn't lost its thrill but maybe, just maybe Emre actually sought something more with her.

She told him no one and Emre would've accepted that, let Tamyra get over any discomfort with some heated physical attention. But she couldn't. Her urgent kisses became aggravated, and suddenly she was pushing herself away from him, to the edge of the bed, curled tight in a defensive little ball.

Emre stayed kneeling on the side of the bed, knowing what he wanted to hear - but still amazed that Tamyra said anything at all. About Wren. Wren. "She told me about her crush...that was you. She never said your name, I never had a clue, honest." Not that it really mattered; Emre knew Tam liked girls the way he liked boys. Well, one boy. "Darling..."

— ⋆ ✯ ⋆ —

Crush. Wren told Emre about her crush on Tamyra. Tamyra couldn't help the bitter laughter that burst out of her as she rubbed her scar, in that moment somehow it was both a comfort and a hindrance, something she was ridiculously aware of in that moment.

"Do not fucking darling me right now Emre, I am not in the mood." She wasn't really sure what mood she was in, but not this. Not soft, not gentle, not sympathetic, even if Emre was trying all of that. In any other situation she would have most likely appreciated it, even later she would appreciate it, but in that moment, it felt too much.

"Crush," she repeated the word though, almost as if she was trying it out for the first time. Wren never said it so specifically, and Tamyra never asked, never really thought about it deeply, and yet it made all the sense. "She had a crush on me. Great. Fucking awesome. And I fucked it all up to the point where she wants nothing to do with me anymore. She wants people who aren't so judgemental around herself, were her exact words, actually. Great. Just fucking brilliant..."

— ⋆ ✯ ⋆ —

Tamyra groused at Emre, but for once he wasn't reactive. He didn't need to be; he wasn't the one hurting right now. The way Tamyra laughed - angry and bitter, so angry but at what exactly? Emre stayed where he was, like if he moved then Tamyra might take flight or tell him to fuck off.

He settled on his heels, propping his head on the bed by his elbow. "What're you on about? What's even happened between you two? Wren's at some point where she's blaming herself for all sorts, and now you're blaming yourself too?" Emre reached out and poked Tamyra's thigh. "Bruv, c'mon bruv. I spilled all sorts to you about Kaz, didn't I. Bruv." Emre couldn't help the tease, since she didn't want to be called darling.

— ⋆ ✯ ⋆ —

Tamyra absolutely did not want to talk about this, not in the slightest, she wanted to curl up and forget about all of it, but somehow she couldn't stop spilling anymore - kind of funny how she was the one who originally asked Wren to keep things quiet about the two of them and yet she was thr one who kept bubbling out over and over again.

"What happened, bruv, was that we slept together a couple of times, had some nice chats, and then she realized that I slept with her father before he died and when I still was just annoyed with her and then naturally, she stopped talking to me. We had a couple of fights, but eventually things seemed to clear up, at least to a point where we were talking and then this stupid fucking fake me shit happened and all I know is that Wren made me a necklace but it's nowhere to be seen and by the time I woke up as me, she realized that I'm not the kind of person she wants to be around. Like I said, she said I'm too judgemental and she doesn't want people like that around herself at all." She dragged her palms across her face, groaning, wanting to feel anything other than what she was feeling right now. "And apparently she had a crush on me which-- I guess I should have known but I didn't until now so it was a bigger fuck up than I even realized."

— ⋆ ✯ ⋆ —

It really did come spilling out of Tamyra, undammed and unfettered by anything except her ability to see clearly. And really - how could Tamyra see clearly? The story she told was all twists and turns, ups and downs intertwined in what sounded to Emre, like a tangle that got harder to pull apart. She probably left out certain parts, because it had all gotten so complicated. Wren left defeated and discouraged, Tamyra left wondering how it all went wrong, and was it even right in the first place. At least, this was how it seemed to Emre, in the way Tamyra spoke. In a way that Emre had never heard Tam speak before.

Slowly, Emre moved closer to Tamyra. He didn't reach out of try to touch her, he just sat up on the bed with her. His feet still on the ground, his hands curled over the edge of her lovely mattress. Emre stayed quiet for a few beats before speaking again.

"And you miss her, innit. Kissing me, kissing others, but you're thinking about Wren."

— ⋆ ✯ ⋆ —

Tamyra felt like a skittish animal who just wanted to run away from all of it. All of this. What was even the point of having this conversation? Why was Emre so gentle and soft when she didn't want him to be? (To be fair, she wouldn't have liked any approach, whatever Emre tried, she was simply in her feelings and had to get annoyed at something and this was somehow the one thing she picked, without what seemed like not much logic behind it.)

"Yeah, yeah I fucking miss her," she breathed, much more quiet suddenly, that tension in her body never leaving and yet Tamyra deflating all the same. She rubbed her face and groaned. "Fuck, it's so stupid. She was just supposed to be this annoying kid. That was who she was until-- well, until right before your plane crashed, I guess. But her parents died and she disappeared and that was that. And then she was back and I don't know, now I'm sitting here missing her so much. Like-- like it hurts," she echoed his words back to him. "Fuck." And then, just for the emphasis and because she didn't know what else to say, how else to deal with all of these feelings bubbling up inside of her that she's never known before, she said again, "Fuuuuck."

— ⋆ ✯ ⋆ —

Emre reached over to his bottle of water which he'd also put on the table. Fortunately he didn't do anything sappy like offer Tamyra water, as if she was having a panic attack. He drank some himself, and then closed the bottle and lobbed it onto the space between them on the bed. Not an offer exactly, but. The longer Emre lived on Meridium the more he found water - drinking it, soaking in it, staring at it - to be as comforting as an embrace, or a kiss. Without another person having to be involved.

"It is fucking stupid," Emre agreed, but then looked at Tamyra over his shoulder, to meet her likely glare. "Feelings, I mean. Feelings like this. Feeling them is fucking stupid. Admitting them is even worse..." Emre tugged the shell bracelet over, something to toy with.

"Apparently Wren's felt this way for a long time, poor little thing. Puppy love, crush, whatever you want to call it - but she's not a little girl anymore. So this girl's held onto something this long...bloody brave of her, if you ask me. You'd think she'd grow out of it by now, innit. She didn't, though. Reckon that means something?"

— ⋆ ✯ ⋆ —

Tamyra just stared at the bottle between them - was it an offer for water or did Emre just put it down there or...? But then he said it was all stupid, what she just explained, and Tamyra's head snapped up, staring daggers at Emre.

"Are you fucking--" she started but then Emre continued, and alright, maybe, just maybe, he was on thin ice, but she wasn't going to murder him on the spot today. But she didn't know what to say anymore. No, she just didn't want to say anything anymore. Because yeah, all of this was stupid and she hated it, hated all of this - feeling this small and hurt and unsure of what she could even do now.

So instead Emre kept talking, about how brave Wren was for having feelings for Tamyra for so long, even though it all started when she was just a kid, and part of her wanted to pinch him and the other part of her just wanted him to keep going so she'd never have to say anything again. But of course he had to stop at some point. Tamyra just kept staring at him, and then after what felt like a small forever, she grabbed that stupid bottle, but instead of drinking from it, she just rested her chin on top of it as she held it just to keep herself tethered. "What so you think it means? What are you trying to say, Emre? I'm really not in the mood to try to read between the lines, so this would be the perfect time to spell things out."

— ⋆ ✯ ⋆ —

Emre turned to Tamyra again, but this time it was an incredulous look. "Are you joking? Are you having a laugh, here. Honestly, Tam. You're so bloody resistant to thinking about this, that now you're asking me what I think any of it means? I don't bloody know! I'm not you, and I'm not Wren! You are - " Emre pulled his a breath, pressed his lips together and exhaled in a frustrated 'hnnnnnmmmgh' noise between his teeth.

"What the fuck is so wrong with Wren? Why're you resisting her so much? What the fuck is so bloody frightening about feeling something for someone as sweet as our little Wren. She's adorable and when she cares about you, it's honestly one of the best bloody feelings in the world. And I know you're capable of kindness for your mates, I know you've got a big heart for the people you care about, innit."

Emre splayed a hand. "And I'm not using the 'l' word here, if that's what you're so afraid of, alright? We're just chatting about being bloody affectionate to a good girl! What on earth do you want from her?"

— ⋆ ✯ ⋆ —

Tamyra's eyes flashed at Emre. "Do I look like I am having a laugh, Emre? Do I?!" but he just kept on going, taking her apart and acting like it was all so easy peasy, so ridiculously stupid that she didn't even just consider the solution and did it and in a way, this was actually helping because at least Tamyra could deal with anger. Or, well, deal with it better than with everything else she's been feeling.

"I don't know what I want from her. Is that so hard to fucking believe?!" she snapped at him once he was finally finished. "I don't know what any of this is because I've never actually felt like this. It doesn't mean that there is anything wrong with her, it doesn't mean that she isn't adorable or that she isn't sweet or whatever else you wanna throw into my face because I fucking know that, alright? I am very well aware of it. But whatever this is, it's fucking new for me and believe it or not, I am fucking terrified of it. Because in my experience, anyone taking even a single step in this direction, it lead to nothing else other than pain and mystery, eventually everyone got hurt, no matter how far they walked down this road and so yeah, excuse me for not being jolly happy to jump into anything with anyone.

"And before you say anything, just to remind you of the last fucking ten minutes, I am already hurting and nothing even happened. We slept together a few times and that's it. So yeah, I resist any and all of this because I do not want to feel like this, I do not want to be like this. I am not the person who keeps playing another person's words in my head over and over again. If somebody doesn't want to be around me? Who cares, I am the person who shrugs at it, not feel hurt about it and turn into-- into this. So fuck of with your 'why can't you just be affectionate' bullshit, it's not that simple."

— ⋆ ✯ ⋆ —

Tamyra let loose, and honestly it was oddly gratifying to hear. Not because he wanted Tamyra to suffer - yes, Emre loved people suffering with him; but this? This was not one of those moments. He actually wanted Tamyra to be happy. He wanted Wren happy too.

So he smiled slowly, and then stretched out onto Tamyra's bed, making himself perfectly comfortable as he kept his gaze on her. Her stormy glare, her cutting words, all of it. "Flipping hell, you're so hot when you're angry. More than usual, like."

Emre reached out to her, kissing his teeth. "C'mon, luv. Hold my hand, give it a good squeeze. Just hold my hand, I swear I'll be good. Haven't I been good to you so far?" He scratched his head, curious that no whispering sabotaged his feelings or thoughts right now.

"I reckon a lot of things happened to get you this twisted up, dar - soz. I mean bruv. I'm sorry it hurts. Honestly, I am, I'm being serious now. It is frightening and, I mean, what. All the couples who should be tremendous - where the fuck are they even. Tomas and Libby? Yaz and Peter - granted that was more my fault than Iyaz's. Madi and...well that's a whole other story. Bloody hell, even Nick and Mik aren't as perfect as I want them to be. My parents..." Emre's brow furrowed. "Sometimes I wonder if they'd...if I'd grown up with them, what their marriage would look like now. No one seems to work out, does it. If anything's a joke, it's that innit. Not you. All ends in pain and misery..." Emre huffed, bitter agreement.

"Right. At least it's out, yeah. And if you ever want to chat about it more, you can chat with me. I won't take sides, I promise. If it's not worth the risk, then don't do anything. Let Wren go and she'll fly away. Suppose everyone does eventually innit."

— ⋆ ✯ ⋆ —

Tamyra expected some kind of fight back. Or maybe she wanted one would be a better way of putting it. Arguing with Emre was safe, it was something she knew and welcomed instead of everything else. So when he just went and stretched out on her bed as if it was all over, complimenting her even, Tamyra stopped and just stared, shocked that and so confused about what Emre was even dong. She automatically gave him her hand, though if anyone was squeezing, it was him and not her, no.

"Wait, that's-- that's it?!" she sputtered, baffled and confused, reeling from the whiplash of these emotional rollercoasters. "I just yell at you all of that and you are just... suddenly alright with it all. You have been pushing me and pushing me on this and now it's just all agreements? Telling me to let Wren go and everything is solved? I can come back to you for more of all of this if I ever need-- what? What the hell, Emre?!"

— ⋆ ✯ ⋆ —

Emre batted his foot lightly against her ankle, as his smirk grew wider, more catlike. He waggled her hand too, thumb brushing light circles over her beautiful dark-skinned knuckles. Scars on those knuckles. "What can I say? I've renounced my fitnah. I'm a lover not a fighter," Emre said, and then kissed his teeth again.

"Oh now come on. What d'you want, a row? I'm tired of arguing and resisting all this, everythng, all the time. Aren't you? Haven't we bloody been through enough, Tamz. You live in hell, you've lived through hell. One bloody misery after another. You likely got whispers in the back of your head, telling you that you're a dickhead and fuck everyone else. You really want to be yelled at again? By me?" Emre snorted. "The fuck do I got any right to yell at you."

Emre shrugged, and leaned to the side, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his backpack. "Yell at me all you want, if you want. I'm tapped out, bruv. I think you're wonderful, and I adore Wren. I don't want to see either of you unhappy. If you're so positive you can't be happy together, what'm I supposed to do about it." Emre shook the pack, a cigarette popping out of the top. He offered Tamrya to take it. "We got enough bollocks making us miserable innit."

— ⋆ ✯ ⋆ —

Tamyra just stared at Emre - when did he become like this? What has happened to have him react like this? What the hell was she supposed to do with this now? Yes she wanted him to yell at her but no, she didn't want him to yell at her either, but she felt like she made a fool of herself already, she couldn't just say all of that and make it worse. So instead - still kind of huffing and puffing but her body slowly letting go of the tension already - she uncurled herself and drank what was in the bottle she was clutching to and then laid down onto the bed, sprawled out.

She took a cigarette and just kept staring at the ceiling as they smoked in silence for a bit. All of it, everything they've been yelling and then not yelling at each other was boiling inside of her, and she needed to figure out what didn't sit with her well from all of it.

It wasn't so hard in the end, though, even if for Tamyra it was actually really hard and complicated - or maybe just scary more than anything, really. "I don't want to just-- let it all go," she said quietly in between two smokes. "I don't want to just not talk to her anymore or see her hang out with that stupid, boring bitch, Beatriz," the woman wasn't stupid or boring or a bitch, Tamyra spoke to her exactly once, but that didn't really matter, she just saw Wren choosing her over even just simply hanging out with Tamyra and that bothered her so stupidly much, it was ridiculous. "I wanna be the one that's there, whatever that means. I don't just-- I don't just wanna leave it at this."

— ⋆ ✯ ⋆ —

Tamyra finally relaxed (kind of) and gave in, and after Emre lit her cigarette for her, he stretched his arm out under her like a makeshift pillow, as he lay back too. The two of them, just staring up at the rafters of her well-made home. Except - "You should hire someone to clean on the regular for you. Not me, so don't even try. Some shy mouse with no purpose would likely jump at a chance to clean innit. Daily sweeps for insects and that, straighten up your plates and clothes, that sort of thing."

Emre snorted at the mention of Beatriz, such terrible castigation of the poor girl. "You still afraid of people knowing? That you like girls and that. I'm still afraid, if I'm honest. But I've been...experimenting innit. Seeing if people will mock me or accuse me of hating gays and that. So far it hasn't been..." Emre frowned, and took another drag of his smoke. "No one cares, is what. Sometimes I think I could scream 'I've sucked cock' from the mountain top and all people here would reply is: so what, so have we."

Emre stubbed his cigarette out, then shifted to turn and look at Tamyra. Nuzzle against her face. "All I'm saying is maybe you've got to really figure yourself out first, before you can figure out what you want with Wren. Seems you've both hurt each other innit. Refusing to think about it will only make it worse."

— ⋆ ✯ ⋆ —

"Hey now," Tamyra exclaimed. "Are you trying to tell me that my place is messy and dirty? Because I will kick you out, hmm?" She was mostly joking, though -and really, the idea wasn't the worst. If she could find somebody to do the cleaning for her, it would make things so much easier. It would have to be somebody whom she could trust in, which she could look into. Hold some trials or something.

Tamyra gave a small, tentative nod. "It's getting better, I think, but yeah, it's scary to just-- to do those first steps, you know? When you tell somebody. But yeah, I noticed that most people are generally good about this like-- it's strange, how different of a world I came from and what this world here is, in regards to sexuality." She paused for a bit and then added, "I slept with Lina."

Emre was probably right, she needed to figure herself out before she could do anything else, before she'd talk to Wren and figure things out with her too, but she's been trying to sort this out for two years and it didn't feel like it would be two more days and then it would he done, and if she waited-- Wren would just move on and that would be that. And that thought, as it struck him, actually had her worried it would be irreversible, if she took as long as she needed to figure herself out. But instead of voicing that, she asked, "Have you figured yourself out? Before you went to Kaz?" There was not poking, no malice in her voice, she was just curious, wanted to see how Emre looked at all of it from his side.

— ⋆ ✯ ⋆ —

"Right- fine, I'll give it one clean-over, yeah? As an apology for...everything else I've done to piss you off. I know that list is long, innit," Emre teased Tamyra back. And really, Emre did like to clean, he couldn't help it. Tidy meant approval. From parents, then social workers, then sergeants, then bosses. Make it clean, keep it clean. Words to live by. "But after my reset, you'll be on your own. Find someone to keep to my standards."

First steps. Him and Tam had spoken about this before, those first steps. It seemed a really long time ago, as Emre thought about it. "It's just...not as important as It was in my head, innit. Half of who I was, was tied up in being a man. Everything I thought being a man meant." It was different for Tamyra though, Emre recalled. "There's no scandal here, Tam. No disgrace. If anything, people would love you more. They call celebrities 'iconic' now for doing brave gay things, these days. I know you'd love to be iconic."

He chuckled, and reached for another of Tamyra's water bottles, drinking some and passing it to Tam. "I fucked Lina too, she's always good for it. How many womens' that for you now? Bloody hell, girl, I've got to catch up innit."

A pause, then another drink. "Erm... it was more cut-and-dry for me, I reckon. I was the one who fucked up. He done nothing wrong. I realized how much I missed him. He cut me out of his life. You remember how pissed he was in the jungle, luv? That was all on me, not you. And I hated myself, knowing I'd driven him to that point. He was only ever patient and...and kind to me, and I treated him so badly just because I couldn't figure myself out."

— ⋆ ✯ ⋆ —

Tamyra couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of her. "Heey, if you want to clean my entire place top to bottom, go right ahead, I'm not going to stop you. And if you ever feel like you need to make sure it all lives up to your standards, you can always just drop by and clean a bit, I'm not going to get offended by it, either." Based on this conversation alone, she wouldn't have been surprised if he suddenly showed up one day out of the blue.

Emre didn't tie his sexuality to his manhood anymore, which was good, but that didn't really related to her in any way and she was about to open her mouth and say just that and then Emre added things more to her own situation and she let out a sigh as she sunk into the bed more. "First of all, I am already very much iconic, thank you very much. It's me we're talking about after all. And seconds-- I know there isn't any scandal. The people here-- most of them are good. Even the idiots somehow. And it's not like you're the only one I've told, I've told others and nobody reacted badly or anything. But still, when I think about telling somebody new, it just-- even with that knowledge, it's terrifying. And I gotta work through that I know, but it doesn't make it any easier." She tilted her head. "Have you told others? Aside from me and Kaz, does anyone else know?"

Wasn't even surprising that he fucked Lina too, Lina was like the two of them, eager to fall into some mindless fun. "It's been four now, so really, get on it, bruv, I'm leaving you behind," she teased as she took another swing of her smoke, tapping oh his tigh playfully. "Honestly? I get why you hit on every girl you meet, they're great fun."

It was much cut and dry with Kaz, Emre said, and Tamyra agreed except the reason for that was partly because she didn't even know what Wren was so mad about. "I mean, after that he was pissed at me too, but-- yeah, whatever you said to him to push you away, it worked. But at least you know. You know what you did, while me-- I think Wren expected me to remember or something, or at least ask, but when she just dismissed me, I was so shocked and hurt, I just snapped back and then walked away. And then she went back to that Beatriz because apparently she is nice enough to hang out with..." she grumbled. "Seriously, she's not even that pretty and probably has rocks for brains, but whatever I guess..."

— ⋆ ✯ ⋆ —

"Maybe I will...but don't get used to it. I just...sometimes I just need something to do." Fill up the spaces of time that he'd used to spend with Iyaz. Not even really doing anything just...hanging out in Iyaz's presence. Soaking his little brother in: alive, safe, well, funny, cute. Emre looked at Tamyra. "Iyaz left me, you know that he left through the Heart Tree? Before the fakes showed up, he...he's convinced his fiancé is alive so he went to look for Peter and he disappeared in the Heart Tree, I think. He's gone and it's just. It's hard without him. I know he's still alive, but...I miss him. Living without him, it always changes me."

It was the first time Emre fully articulated that, and why with Tamyra - well why not. She used to complain about people just telling her things, whether she wanted to hear it or not. At least this didn't require her comfort.

"You're not yet an, erm, gay icon though," Emre pointed out lightly. "Got to hit all them iconic points innit." But Emre nodded. "It's terrifying, yeah. Erm...I'm not...I'm not sure. It's more like people are just okay if I am." Madi kind of knew. It felt sometimes like Tomas kind of knew. Wren kind of knew, and even Nick kind of knew. He cuddled more against Tamyra. "Still figuring that part out innit."

He smiled, at Tamyra's rightful boastfulness. "No other bloke's got much appeal to me, if I'm honest," Emre said, perhaps one of the most innocent things he'd said in a long time. Emre didn't notice though. "Nesh is alright but he's too much like Yaz. Plus I shagged his sister back in London."

Tamyra detailed the latest misunderstanding between her and Wren. "You reckon it's worth it to ask her what she wanted you to remember? Or to tell her that you miss her?"

— ⋆ ✯ ⋆ —

Tamyra gave a small nod. "I heard, yeah. Kaz told me when it came up, but I just recently found out." She liked Iyaz, he was cool and a good doctor, but it's been a while since she talked to him or went to see him for anything, so it wasn't really a surprise that she didn't realize what was happening until Kaz told her.

"You know, when you showed up with him by your side, I was really jealous. You had your family, your person right there with you. What could possibly be better? And now I think-- as good as it can be, it can flip right on its head and hurt just as bad." She paused for a second, watched his face. "I am sorry you lost him like this, that really sucks. But when he comes back," when and not if, Tamyra paid very close attention not to be an asshole in this moment, "you'll be here, waiting for him."

Not a gay icon yet. Never something she thought she'd want, but it actually didn't sound that bad. She could be okay with that. "People are just okay if you are? What do you mean by that?" They both agreed on one thing, though, they were both trying to figure it all out. Sometimes together, sometimes apart, but it was something similar they were both going through and that gave Tamyra some comfort.

"Do you think it means something? Like, we are not the same kind of bis since I am more into women and you are mostly just focused on one guy?" she couldn't help but ask. Were there different categories on this? Or was it just simply how their tastes differed? She did let out a small scoff, though, "of course you slept with Nesh's sister. Any chance you slept with a woman named Nakeisha? Would have been around my age, but I am sure the age difference wouldn't have been a problem for you."

She didn't say much at Emre's last question, thought about the last time Wren and her talked over and over again. Just how much she missed Wren. What would happen if she didn't ask, if she just left the woman and all of this alone. But even just the thought of it left this strange, unknown, hollow feeling inside of her chest that she didn't like.

"You know, I-- I've been feeling for a while like maybe I'd want more than just this. Just mindless fucks. But it never felt like it could ever really happen. Or I never did anything that could allow it. And I am not sure if this is that with Wren or not, but even if we are just going to be friends and nothing ever happens between us again, I don't want to not have her in my life at all. So yeah, I think I need to talk to her."

— ⋆ ✯ ⋆ —

Kaz had told Tamyra. The surge of emotion Emre felt could've been anger or surprised relief, so Emre just listened. These mini-eulogies people gave about Iyaz, Emre sopped up like dry bread to water. "You just said it yourself, darling," Emre spoke softly. "Love is a risk of having your heart shattered. Yaz broke my heart so many times, but that don't matter, does it. He can break it a million times more and I'd never stop loving him. He's...everything."

It took Iyaz leaving, for Emre to realize there were no reservations to love. He wasn't sure where to go next, but without Iyaz to protect, the sense of instability was...exciting for Emre. "It's like...no one will think I'm weak for it. Right - it's called male ego, sweetheart. You got a different sort of ego," he teased. But he hadn't considered different types of bisexuality.

"Dunno...some straight people is sluts and others is just okay with one person innit. But I love women, all sorts. Anyone who's interested, I'm there. Shagged a granny one innit. Bloody hell the things her mouth could do...and when she took out her dentures....!" He husked a laugh at himself. "Her name weren't Nakeisha, no. Your timeline is safe from me, darling." Tam did have a point, though. An embarrassing one, if Emre thought about it too deeply. Annoying.

"Kaz innt special or nothing, right," he tried to say, and it sounded thin.

Better to distract himself by Tamyra's revelations. She wanted more than mindless fucks. He rolled to face Tam, and kiss her like he was congratulating her. His hand skated along Tam's body, teasing her breasts, trailing down her stomach. "Be the kind Tamyra, I know she's there. I've had the privilege to see her. Wren deserves kindness, innit. She's confused. You're a brilliant shining icon."

— ⋆ ✯ ⋆ —

No reservations on love. No matter what, Emre would still love Iyaz. Tamyra felt like she understood that, just with her parents. No matter what shit she'd find out about them, it would hurt like hell, but she'd get through it. "Iyaz is lucky to have you," she said, and then after a few moments, a bit of shift in the topic,

"Did I ever tell you that I have a sister here too? On the island? Jupiter, if you know her. Our dad is the same and we've been getting to know each other since she got out of the tunnels." She had a soft smile on her face as she talked about Jupiter. Her sister! That last interactions of theirs didn't go as well as Tamyra would have wished it, but she could fix it, hopefully and they it would be back to smooth sailing.

He wouldn't be considered weak if people knew he liked guys. Yeah, their brains really did work completely differently sometimes, even in such similar situations like this one. But really, even with different viewpoints, these chats have helped Tamyra immensely and she was grateful for them, even if she wasn't willing to say it out loud and add yet another layer of vulnerability to the table. She spilled her guts enough for today as it is. So instead she just teased, "some call it ego, I call it confidence that is actually backed up," and gave a wink.

Tamyra couldn't help it, the laugh bubbled out of her hard. "Of course you'd have a story like that, I am not even surprised. Kind of glad it wasn't Nakeisha, though, I'd have to kick your ass or something if it was. Then again, you are a good lay so it would have been good for her too, I am sure."

She tilted her head, raised her eyebrows at him and just gave him a look that said she wasn't buying what he was trying to sell her about Kaz. "How much of that do you actually believe and how much of it is just trying to convince me so I'd drop the topic?"

Emre kissed her then and it wasn't the kind of kiss the two of them usually shared - it was usually nothing more than a lead up to everything else, fast and hard and demanding, while this was casual, more like friends giving each other a hug or something, which was strange for a number of reasons Tamyra didn't even want to get into, but most of all, as nice as the kiss was, Tamyra had absolutely no desire for it to go any farther than that. "You know, sometimes you really do have the ability to find the absolute right words and being right - I am a shining icon." It was a light joke and the truth all at once. "But thanks," she said as she did untangle herself a bit from him and sat up, reached for that bottle of half drank water on the bed and took a couple of sips from it. "For talking through this with me, I really appreciate it."

— ⋆ ✯ ⋆ —

Is he really so lucky,the whisper in Emre's head flared up in sarcasm, so strong that Emre almost drawled it aloud. But he bit his tongue hard instead, refusing to ruin the moment Tamyra tentatively offered, about Iyaz. Fortunately Tamyra's continuation took Emre by surprise and he propped up to look at her. "Are you joking? A sister - like a long-lost sister? Bloody hell, this bloody island..." Emre marveled at the wild magic, then cheekily asked, "Do you like her?"

Emre snorted, reveling in Tamyra's shameless bragging as he flicked his fingers in the air, making snaps. "Brap! Girl's got receipts of greatness."

But then Tamyra was giving him a hard look, and Emre looked back at her, all indignant frowning. "Oh shut it. I don't got a clue what you're on about. Just allow it, alright? Today we're giving you the third degree. You can grill me in a few weeks time."

Emre had gotten all turned on though, pleasing Tamyra, making her laugh, possibly helping Wren...and chatting about Kaz of course. It all turned out well, but Tamyra shimmied away to innocently drink her water, and Emre lay back and groaned in frustration. "You sure you don't want me to keep massaging you? Happy ending and that, remember?" Emre wiggled his fingers. "You can close your eyes, I can shut the fuck up, and you can pretend I'm Wren doing you in, yeah? I don't mind a little roleplay." Smirking, he rubbed his face. "Hands-only, reckon Wren can't grow a beard."

— ⋆ ✯ ⋆ —

Tamyra's smile just grew wider. "Yeah, I really do like her. She is nothing like me and I am not sure if just based on personality, anyone would assume we are sisters, but I really like that. She is full of positivity, always has a kind word to everyone and just so open. She can also see ghosts - like, actual ghosts. We encountered one we both knew out in the world once, it was-- it's no joke or anything."

Tamyra just rolled her eyes. "Come on now, I wasn't asking for you to write poetry and spill all your heart, a simple confirmation could have been good. But sure, keep it to yourself, I think I know what the answer would have been anyway."

Emre asked if she was sure she was done, and Tamyra let out a small chuckle. "Yeah, I'm sure, sorry. As tempting as your fingers sound, they don't come any close to what hers feel and I am into roleplaying, but pretending you are somebody else-- not up to that today." She gently nudged him. "But hey, I am sure a bunch of other people would jump on the opportunity, it won't be too hard to find somebody else."

— ⋆ ✯ ⋆ —

Competition, The whispering was gleeful, spiteful. Tamyra can't be the best if she's got competition. Of course this 'sister' is nothing like her. Kind? Positive? Don't sound like our Tamzy at all. Usually Emre could tolerate the waswasah; he'd been hearing it in his head, castigating him and others, for years now. But this time, it irritated him. He wanted to be happy for Tam, finding family when she'd lost so much "We can all supposedly see ghosts on Meridium. I still think they're jinn. And if you want to get on Wren's good side, you should agree is jinn too."

Emre only stayed grouchy for a moment, giving into whinging as Tamyra denied him the pleasure of her pleasure. "Other people is too much trouble, and you're right here. But whatevs, I'm not bothered." He was horny-frustrated , but Tamyra's nudge made him relinquish a small smile. "Just pull myself off in the ocean then, I suppose. Sad, Tamzy," Emre said, slowly standing up and shouldering his backpack. "You've left me a sad man, I hope you can live with yourself."

He reattached the shell bracelet on his wrist, letting Tamyra get a good look at it. "Can't wait to see you dripping in Wren-bling one day, my luv."

— ⋆ ✯ ⋆ —

"Jinn, alright, I'll keep them in mind for the next time Wren and I are talking about stuff like that." Because there would be a time for it. She couldn't go into a conversation she was planning to have with Wren tihnking Wren would just turn her away anyway because then she wouldn't even get started and that was not an option.

She gave Emre a soft, but amused smile. "I will take that as nothing more than a compliment. But think about it this way - your talk with me worked so good, I am now focused on the success of the next step." A laugh. "Or yeah, get yourself off in the ocean, that is also an option, go wild - with that, I can live with."

That damn bracelet still stung, not to mention Emre's brag, but Emre turned it into something more hopefully. "You better be right." She reached for a full bottle of water and handed it over to Emre. "Here, take this as a thank you or something, you can never have enough water, hmm? And really, thank you for all of it."

FINISHED.

#emre #emre 024 #interlude 11 #thank you so so so much for this gigi #this was so much fuuuuunnnnn #<3

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starlit-lilies · 2 years

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location: the beach status: closed with @akbartheolder

Tomas and Libby had had to go to a New Trio meeting with Seamus, so now Lily was on the warm beach-sand, building a sandcastle with Flora. The sandcastle was mostly lumps decorated with shells, but Flora was proud of them, and Lily was proud of them by extension. Lily cast one longing glance toward her surfboard—a birthday present from Isela on the condition it was shared—but was resigned that she wouldn’t get to continue her self-taught surfing lessons today. Unless...

“Do you know how to swim, Flora-lor?” Lily asked, once Flora decided to undo all her hard work with a scallop shell. Flora looked up from her digging, looked over at the ocean, and shook her head. Lily smiled. “Do you want to learn?”

Flora considered. “Okay,” she said, promptly abandoning her sandcastle and toddling toward the waves... without Lily. Lily laughed and stood up, lifting her sister into her arms and giving her a kiss. Flora grinned and kissed her cheek back. Her sister felt a little too warm, but it was a hot day, so Lily didn’t pay too much attention to it.

As Lily headed into the waves, she glanced around—and saw Emre not too far off. Lily grinned and raised her hand to him even as she went deeper into the water.

“Emre!” she called. “Over here! Bring the surfboard!”

#emre #emre 08

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mecnun1cinar · 5 months

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Ben yurtta oturmuş twitterda gezinirken laf döndü dolaştı yine bana girdi benim suçum neee

#kesfet #keşfet #alıntı #sevgi #youtube videos #videos #komedi #komik #emre #mecnun1cinae #abdulhamit

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umursamaz49 · 5 months

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Bir kum tanesiyim ama çölün derdini taşıyorum...

umursamaz

#umursamaz #meftunkalbim #emre #muş #yoruldum

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dostoyevsky-official · 8 months

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How Merve Emre became the hottest — and most divisive — name in literary criticism

Wherever Emre goes, for better or worse, she tends to turn heads. "Merve is the kind of literary 'it girl' of the moment," the senior editor, who's worked with Emre, said. "Everyone's jealous of her because she's extremely prolific, extremely productive, extremely beautiful. And she also is very polarizing. And I think that she is polarizing in great part because she is so prolific and so beautiful."

[...] "She's somebody who shows you why you might really love something rather than show why you shouldn't love it at all," Michael Roth, the president of Wesleyan University, said. Reading Emre on an author she loves is like listening to someone describe the honeymoon phase of a new relationship — her criticism has an erotic charge to it.

[...] Over the past few years, Emre's reach has grown such that she has the power to represent her field in the public imagination much the way Alison Roman has become shorthand for "cookbook author" or Frank Gehry for "architect." It leaves her in both a prestigious and precarious position, with seemingly as many people in the cutthroat literary world cheering her on as rooting for her to fail. "Academics can't bear it when someone does popular work," her friend the philosopher Jason Stanley said. The stench of misogyny, too, is hard to ignore. As trite as it is to dismiss someone's haters by saying "they're just jealous," her friend Anna Shechtman, the writer and crossword designer, noted, "it may actually be true when it comes to Merve."

Courting an audience and wearing one's ambition as openly as Emre does is "a complicated variable for a lot of academics," one Ivy League professor noted. "It's a moment where your weird little closed world suddenly gets cool on the outside, and is it gonna get cool in a way that ruins what you love about it?"

[...] Emre sees her role as part of a larger mission to democratize criticism beyond the walls of the academy. She wants to be "the Avon Lady of criticism," she joked.

[...] Emre is the eldest of three girls born in Adana, Turkey, to two doctor parents who emigrated to the US when she was 3. [...] In 2007, she graduated from Harvard and went to work as a management consultant at Bain & Company in New York. She made a lot of money and was "very, very, very bad at it," she said.

Her ex-colleagues remember it differently. "Of all the people I've recruited to Bain in the 30 years, and this is in the thousands, she is one of the brightest," said Chris Bierly, her mentor at Bain, who called her "other-level intelligent." Still, he said, "she was impatient with learning the job from the bottom up." When she was toying with leaving the industry a few years later, he asked her why. "She said, 'I want to do your job. I just don't wanna do all the jobs in between,'" he recalled.

After a year and a half, Emre fled the consulting world and applied for a Ph.D. in English at Yale. "Going to graduate school in literary studies was a form of rebellion," she said. "I suspect I got as much pleasure from it as I would have been if I'd been getting wasted in high school." [...] It was there she developed the sociological approach to criticism that informs much of her work; her thesis, "Paraliterary," was about the idea of "good" and "bad" readers and how literary critics need to draw the circle wider in order to keep their field relevant.

[...] She reads as many as two books a day. For every book she writes, she gets a tattoo of its call number in the Library of Congress on her side.

[...] She moved to Montreal to teach at McGill in 2016, with Nakarado and 1-year-old Aydin in tow. "The students loved her. She had a line outside her office door," her former colleague Ara Osterweil said, recalling the excitement that surrounded her glamorous, brilliant colleague who wore stilettos to her lectures.

She also rubbed some people the wrong way. "She thought she was Beyoncé coming into the department," one former colleague said. "She didn't want colleagues or students. She wanted an audience."

Even more so than in consulting, there is a fixation in academia on bureaucratic rank that Emre has little patience for. "I was never someone who was going to be comfortable with highly hierarchical and patriarchal institutions," she said, explaining that one of the reasons she never learned to drive was because she couldn't tolerate being taught by her father. "So now my husband drives me," she noted with irony.

[...] "She should not be in academia because there is a measure of burying your own opinion in order to mentor, and she does not have that capacity," the colleague who thought she acted like Beyoncé said. "She liked to talk about the money she was getting for the book on personality traits, and that was just so hilarious to everyone, because she was so un-self-aware of her own personality."

[...] But not everyone liked Emre's way of doing things. Last year, someone sent an anonymous note about Emre to half a dozen professors around the US with no return address. It's titled "ME, a short biography" and reads: "Daughter of rich doctors with vacation homes in different countries claiming poor immigrant status tears through Ivies like the Ivy pricks she denounces finds tall, useless pretty boy husband to have some children to lie about." Typed out in flowery word-processor cursive, it continues: "Lives eats breathes shits on social media for a decade, wanted by no university in the United States, writes click bait books to become filthy rich to buy followers and bribe half her profession to pretend the emperor has clothes on, badmouths every place she's worked" and "still cannot shake the absolute thirst."

[...] "People in this business can be really weird," [Michael Berube, a professor of English at Penn State] said, though he noted that they generally don't resort to real violence. "They just tend to be sort of textually obsessed."

Emre was shaken by the incident. "It was hard for me to imagine how thwarted" someone must feel to send something like that, she said. Still, she tried to have a sense of humor about it. "The author probably meant to use the word 'slake,' not 'shake,' since thirst is not something you shake." She has no idea who's responsible. "My sense is that only an academic could imagine that essays on James Joyce or Simone de Beauvoir were driving The New Yorker's advertising revenue," she remarked, noting that the postmark on the envelope suggests it was mailed from near Fordham University. At least, as one of her friends noted upon receiving the letter, "even your haters can't deny that your man is hot."

[...] As Emre became increasingly frustrated with academia, she began pouring herself into her writing career. "When I imagine the way that Merve thinks, it's like the spreading branches of a tree — everything can take you somewhere," her friend the writer Sarah Chihaya said. "She's not always interested in getting from point A to point B but rather in helping to open up all these expanding questions." She did the edits for her first New Yorker web piece in the hospital the day after giving birth to Altan back in 2017. Other academics resented seeing Emre's byline everywhere. There was a bit of a feeling, like, "Why does she get to write for The New Yorker?" her friend Anna Shechtman said.

The media world first really started paying attention to Emre after she panned writer Durga Chew-Bose's 2017 essay collection, "Too Much and Not the Mood." That piece "put her on everybody's radar," said the critic Christian Lorentzen, which is "rare for something in the Boston Review." In it, she laid out her concern that today's personal essayists are concerned not with judgments about "the formal or stylistic features of prose" but with "pretty phrases that mean nothing and teach nothing," whose only purpose is to confirm the "author's status as a beacon of complex selfhood."

Emre was blasted for being anti-feminist; Lena Dunham, a friend of Chew-Bose, tweeted that the review was "rude, patronizing bullshit." Nowadays, Emre is trying to move away from writing about books she doesn't like. "The easiest way to get attention is to have a kind of contrarian take about another female writer," she said. "It is not challenging to get people not to read something. People are not reading things all the time."

[...] The discussion segued to her Twitter presence. Did she feel there was any tension between her philosophy of criticism, which encourages the evacuation of the personal, and her more confessional use of social media? "These are two totally different genres that we're talking about," she said, as we scaled the steps outside the Yale Science Building. The idea that "high-quality criticism" and "canny self-promotion" are trade-offs "seems to rely on an error, which is the belief that just because something is popular, or is marketed well, it can't also be good."

"But the other thing is like, I don't actually think that the work relies on the evacuation of subjectivity," she continued. "It is impossible. So then I think the question becomes, what does it mean to make style charismatic through an act of withholding access to the personal in one genre, and then giving or creating the appearance of giving people access to the personal in another kind of genre?"

"So are you saying this is all a calculated dance?" I asked.

"Everything's a calculated dance," she shot back. "It would be foolish for anyone to think that what happens in a form of writing, whether it's a long-form magazine piece or 140 characters, isn't in some way calculated. I wonder what pure authenticity would even be."

[...] Emre's calling, as she sees it, is no less than the wholesale reform of higher education from the ground up. She is preoccupied with two interconnected crises. The first is an economic crisis of the humanities: Higher education is overpriced yet underfunded, there aren't enough jobs, and college degrees are increasingly devalued. The second is what her friend John Guillory has dubbed a crisis of legitimation within the profession: that literary criticism has become trapped in English departments, talking only to itself, rendered useless and separate from the reading public. Her goal is to make the practice of teaching criticism, which she sees as a public good, accessible to the wider world.

"I understand the purpose of literature as a kind of meeting place between reader and writer. It's the romance of that imagined meeting place, and it's the romance of all of the possibility that still lives there," Emre said. "One very cynical way to think about life is that it's a series of reducing possibilities. And one way to think about what criticism does is that it's a place where possibility is left really open-ended."

[...] These grand ambitions, she suggested, are why she has let herself be profiled, despite her distaste for the endeavor; she's savvy enough to know that building a brand is necessary to her larger mission. Twitter, for instance, "is a way of addressing a very different kind of public" than one gets to address at Yale or Wesleyan or The New Yorker. "We are people who are supposed to be preservers and disseminators of literature or literary culture, and we're not actually engaging people to read," she said. "If you're not trying to get people excited about it, then why are you doing it?"

#emre #this is the profile #the new editor makes it difficult to post these

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