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silksandcravats · 4 years

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Training (part 2) Kylo Ren x You

Summary: Kylo has a long and brutal punishment in store for you after your behaviour this morning. Read part 1 here for context

masterlist

WARNINGS: explicit language, smut, dom!kylo, mean!kylo, blindfolds, handcuffs, collar, anal play, slight painal, mention of caning, wax play, crying during sex, PIV sex, generally a bit rough, aftercare tho don’t worry

A/N: Accidentally deleted this b/c i’m dumb so reposting. I apologise this took me ages to write but it’s here now! and it is LONG so i really hope the wait was worth it! (ps gif is basically a visual representation of what he does to you… you da helmet b.)

You managed to keep yourself busy for much of the remainder of the day. You could have any food delivered to your quarters, but today you ate at the furthest dining hall possible, trying to kill time. But it would seem that the more you tried to occupy yourself, the more you found yourself coming up blank. In fact, you couldn’t seem to remember a single hobby of yours, instead your mind forced you to relive the events of your morning again and again.

You refused to acknowledge any form of remorse for your actions, but you couldn’t help it when the anxious knot that had grown in your stomach seemed to tighten further and further with each passing hour. It was only after you had given up your game of playing busy that you were forced to face your waterloo.

You were sitting on one of the sleek lounge chairs, facing the glass wall that stood between you and the endless mass of glittering stars and indefinite darkness, when the doors opened. You listened to heavy steps enter the quarters, and you closed your eyes for a moment, collecting yourself, bracing for whatever was next to come.

“Come along kitten, we have much to discuss.” He called for you, opting to forgo any pleasantries. You took a deep breath, before standing, following his voice to another room in your quarters. Technically, it was your bedroom, but the room was so large it served multiple purposes, to one side sat a bed, two bedside tables, a door leading to the refresher, and another door to a large closet, on the other side of the room was a few sleek shelves and an excessively large desk a few feet from the wall, and between the two sides, a large expanse of empty floor.

“Bring me your collar.” he said, already holding something in his massive fist you couldn’t quite see.

You nodded, remembering to add a “yes sir” after he cleared his throat, going to collect the black piece from it’s home in your bedside table. You brought it back to him, setting it down in his waiting hand, before dropping your hands awkwardly to your side, unsure what he wanted you to do with them. He noticed this, but offered you no guidance, grabbing your chin and thrusting it upwards so he could fasten your collar around your neck. He was sorely tempted to pull it too tight, to make you gasp and turn your face a pretty shade of pink, but you would need your breath for what was to come.

Once the collar was secured he began undressing you swiftly and quietly, face void of emotion. If he was aroused by seeing you nude, he didn’t show it.

He then circled around you, stalking his prey, stopping behind you he moved to blindfold you, robbing you of your sight and encouraging you to tune into your other senses. Once it was on tightly you heard him take a few steps back from you. You stood there a few moments before you heard him speak.

“Kneel.” The addition of the blindfold made the simple task more complicated, as your sense of balance was altered. You did your best not to tip over as you fell to your knees quickly, you knew he was expecting blind obedience, and if you failed to comply immediately he would roughly push you to the ground himself.

“I must confess pet, I was under the false impression that we were making progress in your training.” He mused circling to your front again. “But your infraction today has made it apparent I have been entirely too forgiving with you. That will have to change.” He paused and could him shuffling next to you and then you felt his hot breath fanning against your ear. “You look so pretty and vulnerable like this baby.”

“Thank you sir.” you purred, grateful for the compliment.

“It’s too bad I have to punish you for being such an insufferable brat.” he sneered, grabbing your ear tightly, and standing. You winced in pain and followed him up as quickly as possible trying to ease the pressure, but he didn’t let up. He walked to the other side of the room with you staggering blindly just behind him. Using only the grip on your ear, he practically flung you forward so you fell against his desk bent over. Your hands coming to catch yourself a bit too late.

He pulled your arms back meeting them just over the swell of your ass and you felt the unmistakable sensation of standard first order cuffs locking around your wrists. You nearly rolled your eyes, wondering what he had in store for you that he felt the need to restrain you. You were left to wait for a while before you felt contact again. His hand reached your ass grabbing one cheek and crudely pushing it to the side, and then you felt his now slick finger prodding against your back door. You squeaked and tried to move forward but there was nowhere to go.

Self defence wasn’t the only training Kylo was guiding you through. He was obsessed with the idea of claiming you- all of you. And that included every hole. The past few weeks he had begun working you towards taking him up your ass, and while you found the idea of it totally arousing, the painstaking slow path towards it was a pain in the ass, literally. You hated the way it felt so cold going in, the stretch was painful, and at the end of it all it felt like there was no real relief as a plug would usually sit ideally in you, taking up space but not providing you the stimulation you craved.

Tonight Kylo had decided to use this distaste for anal training against you. You groaned at the feeling as his finger pressed firmly inside your unwilling hole, sliding right in, two knuckles deep working into you.

“I’ve got a new plug for you tonight little one,” he informed you, pressing his finger all the way in so it sat deep inside you.

“Is- is it bigger?” You asked nervously, trying your luck as you weren’t sure if you were even allowed to talk right now.

“Indeed kitten,” he answered, it seems your question was allowed for now. He continued pushing in a second finger. “I’ve skipped a few sizes, this one’s bigger than you’ve ever taken. And it’s going all the way up your ass.” you shivered at the thought.

He didn’t prepare you much more before you felt his fingers withdrawal and the tip of a cold steel plug pressing against you. You couldn’t help the grunt of discomfort that fell from your lips as you instinctively clenched tightly, denying him access.

“Don’t fight me.” he commanded calmly, pressing harder against you. You squeezed your eyes tightly under the blindfold, your entire face scrunching with discomfort.

“Don’t want it.” you complained. Suddenly the pressure stopped momentarily.

“Fine,” he relented, tone still eerily calm. “Then you can help me put it in. Hold yourself open.” Your eyes flew open.

“I-I can’t.” You tried, holding your cuffed wrists up slightly as an excuse.

“I won’t repeat myself kitten,” he warned. Not wanting to provoke him further, you elected to oblige. With a pink face and shame filling your guts, you pushed your hands back, grabbing your own ass you pulled yourself open, fully presenting your little hole to him. The position was entirely humiliating, but that was what he was going for.

“The little slut can listen,” he mused, once again lining the steel invader with your entrance. When he pressed again you were unable to resist the way you had earlier, and much to your disappointment you felt yourself beginning to stretch painfully in an attempt to accommodate the foreign object. You could already tell this one was a good deal wider and longer than any of the preceding plugs, and you felt all too sorry for yourself as you thought about how your only option was to lie there and take it.

“You are going to learn that I have final say of anything and everything that happens to this little hole, and every other inch of your body.” he lectured, pushing deeper and deeper. “This body belongs to me, you are mine, and whatever happens to you is entirely up to me. I will see to it that you learn to listen to me better than you listen to your own body. I know what is best for my pet, and you will listen to me.”

You let out a small whine as the widest part slipped inside of you, but otherwise the plug was fully seated without much further protest from you. Finding yourself too overcome with shame to fight your situation anymore. Once it was all the way, he took a moment to admire the shiny and excessive jewel at the end of the plug before batting your hands away. You worked to even your breathing as he stepped away from you, you could hear his footsteps echo as he walked across the room.

“Open” he came around to your front, placing something hard and wooden, a cane, between your teeth, you bite down, realising he wanted you to hold the implement. “We are going to try something new today, it is intended to be a punishment, although I suspect being the little whore that you are you will find some way to enjoy it. This is practice for you. It will be quite intense but you will not move an inch because I told you not to. Since it’s so hard for you to follow instructions, you’re going to hold this in your mouth the whole time. If you so much as step a toe out of line, I will cane you until I draw blood, understood?”

You nodded quickly in response to his threat, knowing full well he was not bluffing.

“Good” he muttered, patting your face and moving behind you again. He allowed you to wait in wonder as he worked behind you. Anticipation swirled in your belly as you wondered what new trick he had in store to make you squirm.

Suddenly your curiosity was answered as you felt something scalding hot drip onto the top left of your exposed back. You gasped, but fought against your instincts, remaining entirely still. The burn was intense but short lived, You felt white hot pain for the briefest moment, before the substance cooled and hardened against your skin. You quickly realised he was dripping hot wax along your back.

“How does that feel?” he asked curiously, running a line down a portion of your spine, moving lower down your back towards a region he knew would be even more sensitive.

“Hurts.” you slobbered slightly against the cane holding your mouth slightly agape, fighting your body’s instinct to wiggle away from the sensation. You yelped aloud as you feel a small puddle of wax pool in one of the dimples of your back. Oh how you wanted to arch your back in response. You found that when the wax made contact with the lower portion of your back the sting only halfway subsided when it hardened, a soreness remaining.

Kylo felt himself hardening at the sight of you. You were purring out pathetic little whines every time he splattered more red wax against your poor flesh. You looked stunning like this, clearly so desperate to move but forcing yourself to be still, to be good for him. Ever the sadist, he continued his work until your skin was practically covered, and your little whines had begun to shift into little moans. Though he wouldn’t admit it aloud, he was rather proud of your resilience, and decided to reward you by trailing his hand down to your dripping, neglected center.

“Just as I expected. Soaked.” he hummed, spreading your labia to expose your clit and opening to the cool air. “It would seem the little painslut enjoyed herself,” he ran his finger just along your opening, but didn’t give you the pleasure of entering you. “I supposed we better take care of this greedy little cunt.” he withdrew his prodding fingers, moving his hands to your wrist. He released you from the cuffs only to grasp your wrists in one of his big hands. With his other hand he grabbed the top of your right arm tightly, pulled you up so your entire naked backside was flush against his clothed front.

Once you were standing he kept his grip on your wrists but let go of your arm to reach around and pull the cane from your mouth. It was more than a little wet from where you had been holding it in your mouth and you wished your hands were free so you could wipe the drool that had run down your chin.

“I suppose this will be saved for another time.” He muses, tossing the cane to the side. His next move was to release you from the blindfold, granting you sight again. Your eyes immediately squinted and blinked, trying to adjust to the harsh fluorescents of the room again. He kissed down your neck sloppily, overwhelmed with arousal at how well you had taken the experiment. You basked in the shift of attention for a while before he pulled away from you abruptly. You whined at the loss of contact but he shushed you, pulling away entirely letting your hands go.

“Go wait on the bed for me.” He commanded, softly. You nodded moving to the bed still stark naked to wait for him while he undressed. Your attention was once again drawn to the large plug invading your back entrance, as it shifted inside you with every step you took. You wondered to yourself if he would notice if you reached back and pulled the kriffing thing out. But you decided against it as you crawled onto the bed. Of course he would notice.

He hadn’t told you how he wanted you to wait for him, so you opted to lie on your back, propped up on your elbows, watching as he finished undressing himself and moved over to you. He crawled onto the bed, hovering over you, pressing his mouth against you and you kissed back eagerly, opening wide enough that he could poke his hot wet tongue around, exploring your mouth. His hand slid down, grasping your breast and tweaking one of your nipples between his fingers, making you groan into his mouth.

You bucked your hips up into him as he twisted and pulled. “Patience,” he warned against your mouth, moving his hand to give your other nipple the same treatment. You whined, and continued bucking yourself upward against his hardened cock, trying to provoke him to hurry up and fuck you already. Suddenly he ripped away from your mouth, grasping your throat roughly and shoving your head back against the pillows.

“You don’t cum until I tell you. Is that clear?” he snarled, pressing just firmly enough to restrict the blood flow to your head.

“Yes s-supreme leader.” you gasp, knowing the effect his title on your lips had on him.

“Good girl,” he seemed pleased, releasing your neck, moving his hand down between your legs. His fingers grazed past your entrance, but kept moving further down to where the little plug sat, nestled in your back hole. He twisted and tugged at it, to which you responded with more wiggling and groans. “How’s the new toy treating my little toy?” he pulled it out so that the widest part of the plug was stretching you open again and you squeaked.

“F-full sir, really full.” you tried to respond.

“You better get used to it.” he slammed in all the way back in suddenly, making you jump. “When I shove my cock in there soon, you’re going to feel much more full.”

“Please,” you begged, his words making your pussy clench on nothing and your asshole tighten around the plug.

“Please what?” he hummed, watching you practically writhe on the bed.

“Please fuck me.” You sounded so desperate.

“Fuck you?” he asked in a mocking tone, teasing your clit, his touch was feather light but in your state it was enough to make you jerk your hips.

“Yes, yes please.”

“Have you learned anything today, kitten?” His tone is condescending.

“Yes yes! And I’m so sorry I’ll be so good, please.” you word vomit, hoping you’ll say what he wants to hear.

“You’re sorry?” he taunts, lining himself up.

“Yes, yes I’m really sorry!” you plead, shrieking when he slams into you.

“Hmm, I better see if I can fuck any last bits of brat out of you, just to be sure.” He begins pounding into you harshly, finally giving you what you want to feel. The sensation of his cokc ramming in and out of you rapidly is only further amplified by the shiny object plugging up your back hole. You felt entirely stuffed, the feeling was overwhelming. “Look at you, I’m going to make such a mess of you kitten, aren’t I?”

“Y-yes supreme leader.” you moaned, every stroke reaching a new depth within.

“Who do you belong to?” He growled, sweat beading on his forehead as he pounded into you.

“Y-you sir.” You pant. He pulled back suddenly, grabbing both of your ankles, he pulled them up and pressed them back as far as you would stretch. You felt the ache grow in your muscles as he slammed into you from the new angle. “Fuck! Kylo I can feel you in my guts!”

“Shit kitten say my name again. Who fucks you so well?” He growled as trying to get his words out straight as you tightened against him.

“You do Kylo! Shit! Kylo!” you were practically howling, tears streaming down your cheeks as the pleasure overwhelmed you. “Kylo, k-kylo please, please can I cum?”

“Hold it.” he moved his hand down toying with your clit, making you scream.

“I-I can’t!”

“You can and you will, what did I just teach you?” He wrapped his free hand around your throat twisting it away from the pillows so he could glare into your glossy eyes and watch you cry.

“Stars! I’m t-trying sir please!” you cried, feeling the familiar knot in your tummy.

“You can do it kitty, make me proud, just a little longer.” He grunted, snapping his hips into you again and again. You cried harder but nodded, watching his concentration as he fucked you into the mattress. He’d make you wait longer, but he was nearing the edge himself.

“Kylo!” You cried, the sensation was building and you knew you couldn’t hold off much longer.

“Shit, come for me angel, be a good girl and cum on my cock. SHIT!” He yelled head twitching inside of you, unloading his seed deep inside of you.

“Kylo!” You cried the knot inside of you exploded and he released inside of you, squeezing again and again as he continued rocking into you. You sobbed loudly, totally blissed out, and entirely overwhelmed.

Finally, his hips slowed, he let out a grunt, not bothering to pull out of you yet, he collapsed onto you, his heavy weight pressing you into the mattress, comforting you. He buried his face in your neck, panting and you weakly reached your arms up to wrap around his neck, still sobbing into his shoulder as you came down from your high.

“I’m here angel, I’ve got you.” He pet your head as you cried his name. You could feel his heartbeat, steady across your chest as you came down. Soon your crying was reduced to slow ragged breaths, and you seemed to re-enter your body, all too aware of the wax still stuck to your back, your wrists aching from the cuffs, your pounding head, the foriegn presence in your ass, and the overall feeling of achiness and exhaustion.

Kylo and his impressive stamina recovered much quicker than you. He pulled his weight off of you, kissed your forehead, and scooped you up, ignoring your noises of protest, he moved and carried you to the refresher. He sat down with you in his lap on the edge of the tub, leaning to plug the tub and turn on the water.

“Did so well kitten, I’m so proud of you.” he muttered, tightening his hold on you, kissing your temple.

“M’sore.” you grumble softly.

“I know baby, here.” He stood and moved you to stand on your feet. You whined again when he let go of you and pressed you slightly to lean over the sink. “Shh, just taking this out.” He hushed you softly, reaching down to work the plug out of you as gently as possible. When more sad noises left your lips, he reached his free hand out for you to grasp. You took it quickly, squeezing a few of his thick fingers in your fist every time you felt a stretch. He let you without complaining, you weren’t really hurting him, especially compared to what he had put you through.

When he was finished he tugged you up into his chest again, and you nuzzled against him. You were still wobbly from being so fucked out, but his tall, sturdy frame took on most of your weight. He ran his hand up and down your back slowly, cooing more praises to you, about how proud he was, and how good you had been. The skin to skin between the two of you was all too comforting, and you felt your eyes drooping shut to the sound of his thumping chest and the sound of the bath still filling up.

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the-lulu-one · 4 years

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Your Life Matters

The way my personality works is that, unfortunately, I care too much; I care to a fault. I love everyone; black, white, tanned, rainbow coloured… It doesn’t matter to me if you have translucent flesh and come from outer space. I don’t care what your skin looks like and I don’t care where you originate from. I don’t care if you’re human, animal or plant. All living things are equally important in their own way.

There are millions of people who feel the same way as I do. Unfortunately, they are the ones who go noticed because we are too busy focusing our attention on those who make the most noise. We allow the squeaky wheel to capture our attention and manipulate our emotions.

The problem with caring to excess is that these emotions can easily override my sense of what is actually real, which means I end up suffering for no reason. Additionally, as a result of failing to examine my own mental and emotional processes, I put myself at risk of being blindly led to fulfill the selfish agendas of those who really couldn’t give a shit about me (or anyone else, for that matter).

I found the antidote to my excessive care in the practice of an equal amount of reason and logic. I study the facts and then some... I examine statistics before I can allow myself to form an opinion on anything. It is necessary, and the only way to function as a “normal” person in today’s world where we are constantly inundated with information (not all of which is factual, and much of which is based on people’s egos and the desperate need to appear like a moral human being.) It is called people pleasing. Therein lies the danger of following the crowd – people’s motivations are hidden, even to themselves. The result is not good.

If this movement is not about an innocent man being murdered by a corrupt cop, but rather, a black man being murdered by a white man. If this is about the police brutality and the justice system being fundamentally racist. If every single member of these institutions (including blacks, women and those who identify as LGBT) are racist. Then why are black people attacking everybody, without consideration or mercy? Worse yet, why are we actively encouraging it?

Why are we saying it’s okay to behave like criminals, like crazy people? Why is it totally acceptable to destroy all businesses (including the mum and pop stores that are barely surviving as it is)? Why are we saying it’s okay for people to post stolen items on social media, knowing they have ruined the lives of families and children who simply do not deserve such injustice? What about those guys? And what does it have to do with police brutality and racism?

Why are we encouraging people to leave bricks outside protest areas, knowing full well they will be used for destruction? Some people are just a-holes and like to sit back with a bag of popcorn and watch people hurt one another. That is how they get their kicks and it’s sickening. They have no investment in the cause and could not care less about racism. They don’t care that black people are losing their lives in these protests (17 and counting…) and that they helped contribute to such a tragic turn of events. They sleep perfectly well at night, while families grieve. Why has death become the answer to death?

Let’s imagine something for a moment. Let’s imagine that the statistics which show that white people get it just as bad as black people are in fact correct. (The sources that support this statement are incredible if you wish to venture outside the echo chamber.) Not only would this mean the system is hurting everybody, regardless of skin colour, it also means that all those white victims of police brutality and justice system unfairness died in vain. (If we hate white people so much, that fact alone should suffice for cause of celebration. Because racism is not okay. Unless it’s towards white people, yes?)

Getting back to my point, if just as many white folks are suffering at the hands of authority as black folks, then the problem truly is about police brutality and corruption of the justice system. Can we at least agree on this point? This is our enemy, not each other. This is what we should be fighting against. But we are not doing that. We are making all white people our enemy, which is so pointless and absurd that it does my head in. Yes, racism exists in the world. Yes, there are ignorant people walking among us. This cannot be helped. People are racist and ignorant all over the world, not just white folk areas.

In fact, what seems obvious to me is is that white people are the ones who are learning faster than the rest of the world that racism is simply not okay. Clearly, otherwise our little hearts wouldn’t be so hurt and we wouldn’t be fighting so hard. We simply wouldn’t care. White people fought to help end slavery. Does anyone remember this? It was called the American Civil War. It is behind us now. Why can’t we accept this glorious achievement in history? Racism and slavery is still practiced in other parts of the world, such as Africa and the Middle East. Why aren’t we focusing our efforts on this little problem? There are open air slave markets in Libya. That stuff should have ended in the Roman times, but it hasn’t. Nobody bats an eye though.

Why? Because facts require the effort of research and once we reach the Truth, it is really uncomfortable to share it with others. Per chance we might appear “racist”. And right now, all white people are shoved in the same category of racist. We really, truly cannot escape the label, and we dare not try, because we are too nice. And too scared. So we just let it continue and take it from every angle, even if we know ourselves to be loving and kind people. Name calling is the only way some people can make their point and it is something that’s very much on-trend these days. That and hating yourself for being white.

Because self-hatred isn’t the number one most damaging thing to mankind or anything, and we don’t struggle enough with it, as it is. There aren’t enough self-help books published to help us out of such a toxic mentality. Yes, more guilt and shame is what we need, even if we weren’t personally involved in the enslavement of black folks and even if zero people in our bloodline were involved in such a hideous way of life.

Let’s just hate ourselves for being white in the name of “solving” racism, because that makes heaps of sense. Let’s not communicate or brainstorm actual ides for it, because that’s uncomfortable. Let’s just self-flagellate till the end of time, to prove what wonderful, caring human beings we are, and how much we love everyone, clearly, because we hate ourselves. No. Just no.

Calling one another racist should not mean anything anymore because it’s become such a common go-to insult, but unfortunately it still has an effect on our fragile sense of identity. Feeling triggered? Name call. Losing a debate? Name call. Here’s the thing: name calling is not an argument. It is what little children do in the playground because they haven’t yet developed their emotional intelligence. It is not what adults do.

We cannot continue to make emotional noises with out mouth holes and call it an argument. But because tribe mentality is part of our human nature, it’s easy to worry about what people think because nobody wants to be rejected and cast aside at the end of the day. It just isn’t a good feeling. But here’s another thing: we should not fear insults, because it is just sticks and stones. Our fear should center around conforming to illusion and bad ideas instead.

Here is yet another uncomfortable truth: racism is not about skin colour. I should know, I had white Australians as well as Indigenous Australians tell me to “go back to my own country” when I arrived as a newcomer. (I hate the word “immigrant” so I deliberately use “newcomer” instead.) They showed me how intolerant they were of those who didn’t speak a word of English and didn’t fit in with the Australian culture. Regardless of me clearly feeling scared and alone, and trying my best to assimilate to a foreign environment.

* Which is more than I can say for some cultures who refuse to assimilate and want literally everybody to work around their value system by using their “cultural beliefs” as an excuse to get away with horrific behaviour, such as domestic violence against children and the “traditional” practice of repression of women. This is unacceptable behaviour and nobody should stand for it. But we do, because we don’t want to appear racist. At the end of the day, we should be protecting women and children, no matter what.

But getting back to my story, what I was shown by whites and non-whites alike was that I was not welcome because I was different. It was that simple. A brutal lesson. Unfair. And had absolutely nothing to do with my porcelain complexion. It had everything to do with a fear of “other” and an incredible ignorance and laziness of mind to boot.

The looting, theft and violence of the Black Lives movement needs to find a different angle, because it is not about justice anymore. One cannot receive justice through violent acts. One cannot force justice onto society by inflicting pain on the innocent. Therefore, I truly believe that what is happening here is a long-waited for excuse to behave badly and get away with it. And we are all for it, cheering on the protesters and handing them bricks. (Feeling triggered? Name call.) The truth sucks, I know. I almost want to name call myself. But we need to look at this issue clearly with both heart and mind, and not just heart.

It makes me wonder what hope we have as a society when even health professionals are actively putting people at risk by saying “it’s okay to protest in these times”, knowing that social distancing rules will be broken and many people’s lives are at great risk. These professionals are directly going against their Duty of Care for their patients and the code of ethics initially agreed upon when they started their doctoring, or whatever it is they think they’re doing.

The idea of putting my life in the hands of doctors now terrifies me, because they too are not immune to pushing their agendas onto people, and they too are scared of looking like they don’t support the movement and are therefore racist (because that makes soo much sense!) If we cannot trust our own health care experts to stop encouraging us to protest at any cost then who can we trust? https://funnyjunk.com/Only+protestors+will+be+getting+sick/jqdmMwd/)

Some of us support the destruction going on around us, not because we are bad people. But because we are sick to our stomachs that racism actually exists and we are letting our emotions run away with us, hoping it will make a difference. What we actually need to do is step back and look at the bigger picture from a bird’s eye perspective and consider all angles.

However, those of us who love a riot (until it affects us personally, of course) should review our value systems and what we pass down to our children, who are the future. As well as check that we’re not actually psychopaths. That would be a good start. This is what freedom of speech looks and sounds like. If such a thing truly exists (as it claims to do) then I should be allowed to have my say, like everyone else and not be crucified for it. I value freedom of speech. I need freedom of speech. I will hear everyone out, no matter what their point of view, as we are all learning how to properly human in this fucked up world. I will never stop people from expressing themselves. Ultimately, I will check all the facts but come to my own conclusion. As it should be. If I am wrong in the way I am perceiving this movement, I welcome the challenge of my ideas. I don’t mind civilised and honest debate as long as it is not a screaming contest and based on actual facts. I want to learn as much as I can about the world and the human condition, and I will never stop exploring. However I do reject name calling and unnecessary put downs in the name of “being offended”. Because, newsflash! Everybody is offended right now. I am offended, you are offended, the entire world is offended. That doesn’t mean we have to walk on eggshells around one another until the end of time. Please, can we not do that anymore?

In fact, there is great danger in submitting to that sort of game, as Steven Fry would agree: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LJKXJNM3W-c&feature=youtu.be

* For some comedic relief after such a heavy topic, here is Steve Hughes’ video on being offended too. It’s much more light hearted but ultimately makes the same point. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fHMoDt3nSHs

I am a human being, like everyone else, and I want to live in a better world. I want future generations to have a better planet in which to thrive. This requires me to speak my mind and I expect the same courtesy returned. We are not monkeys anymore; we have evolved from that. Let’s leave the past in the past and invest our energies on further growth and evolution. Let’s communicate. Let’s debate. Most importantly, let’s invest our very souls in the Truth, by allowing the antidote to our vulnerable sense of empathy to be introspection, hard research and the civilised sharing of ideas. It is the only way forward.

May it be so.

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spyvstailor · 6 years

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Chapter 2

Here’s the second chapter of that sci-fi thing for those reading. Should I tag you guys in these? Do you want me to just tag this with something for ease of access? Let me know. I’ll repost in the morning for those who aren’t night owls.

Hey, anyone got any ideas for names for this? It’s literally saved as ‘Sci Fi Thing’...so...

Chapter 2

Waking with a migraine in the middle of the night seemed almost like routine.

He had sat up in bed for long enough that the sky began to turn pink, before slipping out of his bed and making his way into his living room.

There was no point in dressing, he wouldn't be leaving his apartment that day.

With no plans, nowhere he wanted to be, no one he wanted to see, he decided he would just mill around.

Curling up on the ledge of his wide window, he ate the only thing he was able to stomach, a dry mixture of grains and some kiscus bark, it was flavourless and gritty, but his stomach accepted the food. He knew he had finally given up when he was halfway through the bag and realized he was actually eating right from the bag with his hand like an animal.

This was his life now.

Eating grains and bark from a bag, in his pyjama bottoms, sitting on his window ledge with bedhead.

Almost angrily, he reached into the bag and grabbed a large handful, shoving it into his mouth and chewing with it open.

May as well just embrace his new role as an unemployed slob.

His comm buzzed and for a moment he considered just ignoring it, but as he peered over and spied Embry's face, he sighed and got up to press the button.

“You know I shouldn't be encouraging bad behaviour,” Embry began with a smirk.

“Then don't,” he replied.

“With the information you managed to give me I dug up a little bit on that girl. Nothing serious, a few minor air traffic dings, but she is a runaway. Her full name is Thandalea Orin, she's sixteen years old. Jumped ship from a home for neglected children on Waif'iko. She owns nothing but a broken down ship left to her by her parents, it's still registered under her father's name, that's how I know it's not stolen. Want me to send her back to Waif'iko?”

“You'd have to find her first.” Joss replied.

“Already done, tracked her down last night, found her sleeping in her ship, took her into holding to question her about the ownership of the cube. That and the fact her ship is still registered to a dead man.”

Turning on his old friend with a scowl, Joss asked, “you arrested her?”

“No, just wanted to make sure neither one of you did anything stupid before another guard caught wind of the caper. We brought her in for questioning, that's all.”

“Thanks for your trust,” he mumbled, heading into his bedroom to change. “I'll be right down to sign for her.”

“You want to release her?” Embry's voice asked from the other room.

“You and I both know kids don't runaway from a good thing,” he called back, eyeing his closet with a frown. He didn't own any civilian gear yet. Maybe he should stop and get at least a civvie tunic somewhere.

“I gotta send her back, Jay,” Embry argued. “We can't just let her...”

“Sign her over to me, you can do that if she agrees. I'll see what I can do about sending her back.”

“Jay, listen, you know I hate that they forced you out, but don't start taking up with these street kids, it will only end in heartbreak.”

Pulling on a pair of his uniform pants with the deep pockets at the thighs that he liked, he stepped from the bedroom and approached his comm and pressed the button, ending the call.

It was odd, but he felt awkward returning to the station dressed in a uniform that wasn't his anymore. He would stop for some clothing first, make a better entrance than some old vet clinging to his glory days.

Stopping in the little front hall of his apartment, he opened his wall safe and removed his gun without thinking. It was habit for him when going to work to grab his gun last thing, so he thought nothing of it as he holstered it to his shoulder.

Tandi was in a little holding cell when he stormed in, she looked furious.

“You fucked me, Legs!” She shouted first thing as he entered, flanked by two guardsmen.

“Sit down, I did nothing of the sort.” He replied. “My friend Embry fucked us both,” he pinned Embry with a hard look.

“Hey, I'm just doing my job, Jay, come on.”

Glaring up at him with narrow gold eyes, he could see Tandi was on the verge of tears or throwing punches, either way he went on calmly. “I can sign you out, if you agree to it, since I'm not your legal guardian.”

“Yeah, I agree to it and then I'm going to kick your ass.”

“Well, my suggestion is you wait at least until we're far from the station so they can't rearrest you for assaulting me,” he said wryly.

She wrenched her face up into a sour sneer.

Leaning down, Joss signed for the girl's release, hesitating at the line 'taking full responsibility for the actions and behaviours of the youth/child as long as they are under the jurisdiction of Aevo in the absence of parental guidance or as an authorized parental figure'. Glancing over at the child in her jacket that was three sizes too big, with her unruly burgundy hair and her sneer, he scoffed and signed for her. He was technically allowed to do that for minors, as a retired Sky Guard. A small, strange perk he knew about as many of the street kids had old Sky Guard advocates or mentors who signed for them in lieu of parents.

“Come sign this,” he ordered her.

She offered him a very lewd gesture, but stomped over anyways and stubbornly put her signature on the document.

“I didn't fuck you!” He growled as they entered society again, the girl storming ahead of him. “Will you slow down?”

“Get out of my life, you progo!” She snarled.

“I don't know what that means, but it better not mean what I think it does!” He returned, picking up his pace the best he could to keep up with her. “Listen, I'm not trying to run your life, you seem pretty capable...aside from the attempted B&E last night.”

Tandi glanced over her shoulder at him, less fire and more ice.

“Thandalea,” he tried calmer.

She slowed. “Don't call me that.”

“Where will you go now?” He asked softly.

“What do you care?” She turned around, hard golden eyes narrowed at him. “Nobody cares about me and I like it that way. It was a mistake bringing you along last night. Now you think you have to pretend to care about this big pain in your ass.”

“I never said anything like that,” he replied. “I don't care deeply, but I do worry that you don't know the dangers--”

“Of the galaxy?!” She barked, as though she had heard that before. “I know the dangers just fine.”

“What's on the cube?” He demanded. “What was so important you had to get it back and why was it in Sorrel's possession in the first place?”

Tandi turned and began to march off, Joss closed at her heels.

“Will you just...” he faltered, as his lung seized. It hadn't failed in a month, he had thought his artificial lung had finally been fixed, but under the stress of the moment it was going fast. “Fuck,” he fell to his knees, hand holding his chest, wheezing. He had forgotten to take his meds in the hurry to get to the station and his body was trying to reject the foreign lung by overcompensating and shutting down both lungs, at least that was what his brain was telling his body. It was psychosomatic, they had told him. He felt the foreign elements, could feel how wrong they were, therefore he fought them and in fighting them, his entire chest seized. It wasn't just his artificial lung, it was him.

The girl left him behind for half a block more, before she slowed her steps and turned.

Just breathe, he told himself. Just get something into your lungs, force them to open, it's all in your head.

Tandi dropped to her knees beside him. “What's happening?”

“I'm fine,” he ground out between grit teeth, ashamed she had to see him like this.

Her small hand hovered over his back for a moment, he could feel the warmth but not the touch above the thin material of the civilian tunic, before it settled gently and began to rub.

“Should I...call someone?” She asked.

A small crowd had gathered and Joss felt himself falling, spiralling down towards a deep, deep hole of shame and self hatred. “Get me home,” he wheezed.

She had dumped him unceremoniously in the hall by his door as she fumbled with his doorcode.

Still struggling to even out his breathing, he raised his hand and shakily touched his thumb to the pad, unlocking the door with his personal microchip key.

It clicked open and Tandi stooped to gather him, fighting to get him up.

He helped her by half crawling, half rolling inside, just enough for her to close the door.

“I have...inhaler, there!” He pointed at in the direction of the kitchen where he stashed a spare one. It was enough to numb him for him to relax enough to breathe.

She tore through cupboards, looking for the inhaler, before finding it on top of his cold cabinet.

Tandi dropped to her knees beside him with it, holding it to his mouth.

He grabbed it from her and inhaled deeply, glaring a little at her to cover his embarrassment.

It was a few agonizing minutes of breathlessness, before he began to feel calm come over him, his throat relaxing, his chest loosening.

“Wow,” Tandi said after a long time of him breathing normally. “You're a real mess.”

He side eyed her angrily.

Pushing to her feet, she smiled and headed into the kitchen. “Bet you haven't eaten anything yet. It's almost midday. Got some food? I'm starving.”

Joss could hear the girl scrambling about in his kitchen like a rodent, the sounds of clinks and clanks, the soft thumps of her boots.

She came back after a bit, without her overly large jacket, hair pulled up and off her face and handed him a glass of water.

“Here, drink this,” she suggested.

He took the glass and drank deep as she ducked back into his kitchen.

Finally, he felt himself strong enough to get to his feet, following her into the other room.

“What's so important about that cube?” He asked, resting his hip against the counter beside her, setting the glass down to fold his arms.

“Pornography, loads and loads of it,” she said, before grinning as she continued to thaw the meat from his freezer. “Is this all you have for food? Just some frozen, half mummified meat and sad vegetables?” Glancing over at him, she said, “you have less food than I do and I'm a runaway orphan.”

He didn't say anything, trying to find a way to get her to leave without being rude.

“How bad was it?” She asked. “You have a phony arm, panic attacks, don't eat?”

“It wasn't a panic attack,” he argued, lying. “My body tries to reject my left lung every now and then.”

“Transplant?”

“Cybernetic.”

“Shit,” she frowned at the pot she pulled down from his cupboard. “How much of you is a robot?”

At her funny little eyebrow wiggle, he scoffed, “I don't know...forty percent? Forty-five?”

“Fuck.”

“What's on the cube?” He repeated.

She smiled, filling the pot with water from his tap. “Do you really care? I'll be gone in an hour.”

“Just long enough to eat,” he replied.

Tandi offered him a look that actually shamed him for the accusation. “You're thin as a pole,” she said softly. “Doesn't anyone feed you?”

“I told you, I can't eat.”

“You can,” she argued. “You just think you can't.”

“Food irritates my stomach.”

“Well, let it irritate it, you can't starve, that's just dumb,” she hauled the pot to the stove and set it down. “You know, my parents fled Impix. They have a clan of people there, they're called the Barkeaters. Well, I heard once that they're called that, because about...twenty years ago, they were being starved out by the Harvesters, another clan that they were fighting. So the Barkeaters, they took to sucking, chewing on the kiscus bark and...a lot of them died. Children, the elderly, because they were the weakest already. I guess, they didn't have a choice when they starved.”

“Properly reprimanded,” he murmured. “What's on the cube?”

“I don't trust you yet, Legs,” she replied. “Go sit down, I can make us some food. When you're poor, you learn to make something out of nothing and, Legs, you got nothing.”

“Let me help,” he offered.

“Sit,” she ordered. “Just listen to someone for once? I bet you don't do that often.”

He frowned, but moved over to his small table to sit down, watching her the whole time she threw the food into the pot to cook.

“So,” she began. “Basic plates, basic utensils, no real warmth or character to your place, I take it you don't have someone else living here?”

“Planning on tying me up and robbing me?” He teased.

She laughed a little. “Legs, even hobbled as you are, I don't think I'm much of a match for you. Besides, I'm sure your friend told you about my record. I don't get much more than moving violations.”

“You shouldn't even be flying at your age.”

“Too bad, I am.” She returned, moving towards him with plates and utensils to set the table. Tandi grinned at him smugly. “It just pisses you off that I'm taking care of you, doesn't it?”

“You're not taking care of me,” he argued. “I'm trying to wait for a good time to ask once more about the cube.”

She laughed. “I'll tell you all about it, but you have to answer one question for me and you have to do it honestly.”

He scowled.

“Oh? Suddenly I'm the one prying?” She demanded, stirring the contents of the pot.

“Fine,” he said after a moment of deliberation with himself. “But you have to answer me honestly too.”

“Okay,” she said, moving to sit at the table with him.

They were both quiet and Joss realized after a while that someone needed to start. “What's your question?”

“Why do live like this? You...seem normal enough, you're not hopelessly unattractive, you could have a family and be surrounded by people who love you. So why do you live like this?”

He wasn't expecting that kind of question. Honestly, he thought he lived well.

But glancing around at his sparsely decorated, rather simple and cold apartment, he figured to a girl like her, someone who came from a culture of warmth and large families, his life looked rather sad and empty.

“I suppose, I just...didn't have the time.”

“Garbage. You said you'd be honest!” She warned.

“I am!” He scowled darkly. “I don't know! I...I regret it, sometimes. But, things just never worked out for me with other people.”

Tandi was quiet. “You never fell in love? You don't even have family?”

“My parents died a long time ago, and...well, I'm Aevonian, we're not exactly warm.”

“There's plenty of warm Aevonians,” she argued.

“Well, I'm not one of them.”

“That's sad,” she stated, clicking her back teeth. “You're pathetic.”

It was said half serious, with a stone sombre face, but Joss caught the jest and laughed, startling himself.

Tandi beamed at the reaction.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “I am.”

“At least you're honest with yourself,” she went on lightly.

“What about you? What's with the cube?” He asked.

“Well,” she began, slowing down for a moment, before saying, “well, let's just say, it's...no, I'll be honest. When my parents fled Impix, they did it in my ship. It was a piece of junk then, I fixed it up a little since then, but...well, once we cleared the planet's atmosphere, life support began to fail. As it does on old junkers. So my mom, she diverted all life support to the front cabin and they put me there, just a baby in a blanket, sitting on the pilots seat.” She fell quiet, eyes misting up a little. “They died together in one of the cabins at the back. When they found me drifting around in space, I was warm and alive and a little hungry, but...I have nothing left of them but that ship and the cube. See? My dad was going to go back to Impix one day and save friends and family, neighbours, members of the clan. That cube has a list of names of people he wanted to save. I'm going to go back to Impix and save them, for him and mom.”

The Sky Guard in him wanted to warn her how dangerous Impix was, how foolish the mission would be, but the good host in him had him biting that back.

“That's a stupid thing to do,” he finally said with a small grin, returning her early taunt.

She sniffed back any tears that may have been coming and laughed. “Yeah.”

He was too polite to refuse the meal after she cooked it for him, taking his time and eating it slowly as she shovelled bowl after bowl into her mouth.

Sitting at the table, he watched the girl, studied her in between spoonfuls of the stew she had made. Her face was dirty in places, her clothes looked threadbare and ready to just fall off of her form, her cheeks hollow like she hadn't had a solid meal in a while, though her body was naturally curvy.

She didn't talk much as they ate, which he appreciated. There was no sense in unnecessary chatter.

“Where do you sleep at night? Your ship?” He asked as they cleared the table, both of them bursting at the seams with stew. He actually ate more than he expected to eat, having another half a bowl.

She shrugged. “Sure, I mean, where do you think I sleep? An alley somewhere? My ship's always been home, even when the LPP had it put in storage until I came of age, I would sneak into the warehouse that housed it and sleep there whenever I ran away from the home.”

“So how do you afford fuel for it?” He asked.

“Do you mean, do I steal debs for fuel?”

“That's not what I asked,” he argued.

Tandi scrubbed the dishes quietly. “I do odd jobs here and there. Delivering things to other planets, the odd transport gig. Anything that gets me up into the stars.”

“You like space?” He asked, drying the dishes.

“I love it, nobody tells me what to do up there. It's just me and Lovelace.”

“Lovelace? Your ship?”

She laughed. “No, my auto-pilot hologram. I installed him myself, modified one of those old encyclopedia holograms, interfaced it with my ship, so Lovelace can do a lot of things if I ask him. Mostly he flies for me when I sleep or when I'm too lazy to fly. He's good for company on long trips. Though, well...he has a few glitches. I tried to program them out of him, I'm not sure if it's ghosts of his old coding or what, but every now and then he breaks out into song. Mostly old Human songs, some Ralorixian romance songs. And he can't fly under a certain speed, so he's gotten us a few infraction tickets. He's never gotten us into a collision yet though.”

“You sound proud of him,” he replied.

“I am! He was the first thing I added to my ship, I wanted...I dunno, someone else there with me, but I didn't trust anyone. Lovelace was my only friend for a long time.”

For a moment Joss caught a glimmer of pure joy in Tandi's eyes and smiled a little. He had to admit he felt bad for the kid, she had a hard life, but she seemed like she turned out to be an okay sort.

“Do you have any clothes besides those rags?” He asked.

“Hey! These rags are pure grunge!” She argued.

“They looked like they're ready to disintegrate.”

“That's the look,” she objected. “I'm seared.”

He wasn't up on a lot of the new lingo, though he did run into it from time to time whenever he'd drag in a kid for processing, so he managed to reply with, “no, you're scorched and crispy in some places.”

She laughed. “Says the old man in the military pants and shitty top.”

“I'm going for a look,” he argued lightly.

“Oh? Thrift shop embarrassed?” She teased.

He chuckled. “I paid twenty debs for this top.”

“Yeah, it looks like it.”

They laughed together for a moment, before Tandi straightened up, face falling slowly. “I'd better go. You're good on your own, yeah?”

He nodded. “Thank you for the food.”

“Whatever, I conned a free meal off you,” she returned breezily, heading into the front hall.

“Do you need me to walk you back to your ship?” He asked.

“Pfft,” she scoffed. “I'm fine. Get some sleep tonight, okay?”

Hearing the door click behind the young woman, Joss stood for a moment as the silence settled over his apartment, before he sighed.

For a few hours he paced his apartment, back in the work out pants he slept in, the loose academy shirt he wore from his training days, his hands itching to do something, his mind unable to focus on anything but how little he had to do with his time.

He didn't even have a hobby.

As he paced his mind turned to Tandi, to her situation.

Admittedly, he didn't know as much about Impix and its struggle as he should. It was a planet in a star system that neighboured Aevo's, but all he knew beyond the fact that the planet was locked down tight due to outright civil war, was the fact that no one got off planet easily.

Easing down before his CPU, he opened a search for Impix, curious about just what was going on with the planet.

For a few hours more he read about famine, war crimes, refugees being turned back by many settlements, by many governments on many planets. He read about child soldiers and warlords, the very worst stories one could tell about the very worst things one could imagine. Rape and mutilations, horrific executions and clans turning on other clans.

Joss tore through page after page of stories and facts and accounts, but it wasn't until a photo of a small Impixaen girl who had lost half her face in a bombing, who was adopted through years of hard fought court battles by a Baorian couple peered up at him from one of the pages, that he gave pause.

If he didn't know any better, he would have bet the child was Tandi looking back at him, with her large golden eyes and her soft, almost hopeless air.

At his core, in his youth, he had always said that the pride of being a Sky Guard was what drew him down his path, but when he started, when he actually got out among the people in the uniform, he had found meaning in helping the innocent. In seeing the relief in a woman's eyes as they appeared to arrest her attacker, in seeing the absolute trust in a child's eyes when he would scoop them up to take them to safety.

Clicking away from the image idly, he found another article popping up about Impix, one of those related articles.

He was scrolling down the page to find more articles directly related to the war on Impix, when his eyes paused on three words that caught his attention: 'off-planet resistance'.

Joss stopped his scrolling where it was and backed up a little.

With many on the planet itself, helpless or unwilling to assist, Rena found herself going down to the surface one night to sneak a couple of Zane's family members off-planet. This began what would become in Rena's words 'her life's purpose'. With a small crew of, what would be described by some, as maverick outlaws or an off-planet resistance of sorts, she has amassed a sizable crew.

'Resistance isn't the word I'd use, sweet flower. I'd call us volunteers. We reunite families.'

When asked where she keeps her small ship hidden, Rena was only able to say, 'my ship is my daughter, my child. She is always with me.'

Donations can be made to Rena's 'volunteers' by finding her yourself and seeing what the intrigue is all about, as she was not forthcoming with much. She isn't hard to miss, standing at a startling fourteen hands high, Rena Saarl is a bright, beautiful and very colourful Zhaerian.

Try as he did, Joss couldn't stop himself from feeling that thrill he always felt whenever he was about to make an arrest or solve a case, he sat for a moment absolutely vibrating.

Giving in to the urge, he pushed away from his desk and headed into his bedroom, going straight to his closet, where he shoved all his old uniforms aside, digging into the back of his closet for something he had never worn.

His mother was a university professor, but his father was New Order, retired when Joss was born. The New Order became the Sky Guard and the old soldiers and fighters from the Order didn't want to continue holding the rifles.

Pausing as he knelt to dig out the boots and helmet from the bottom of the closet, he peered at himself in the closet mirror.

Gaunt, pale and too thin, with a day's worth of stubble on his jaw, he peered back. He looked like a madman with a lock of his dark hair fallen out of place, hair raked with his fingers and not combed or smoothed down as he usually wore it.

Ignoring himself, he thrust into the closet and pulled out the boots and helmet, tossing them onto his bed with the suit.

Gloves, there were gloves with his father's old uniform.

Diving under his bed, he pulled out a plastic box he kept miscellaneous clothing items in.

The gloves were there, along with the thigh holster of the New Order.

Standing over the bed, with the uniform tossed carelessly on top, he realized that he was really going to do it. He had the ship, he had the training, he had his father's old climate suit uniform.

Stripping down to his underwear, he tugged the suit on. Before pulling some socks and then the boots, strapping the holster on his right thigh.

He hadn't even secured the top part, left it open in his rush to gear up. So he closed it finally, standing in front of the mirror to ensure everything was secure properly.

The boots were a little tight, he could buy a new pair on the move, but the gloves fit nice.

The uniform of the New Order was one of clean lines and no excess.

In the days before Aevo opened itself up, his people were ruled by the Old Order, those who dictated that children who were imperfect were time and money wasted.

His father and many, many more rose up to protest this harsh regime of perfection, no one would dare call it a civil war, no Aevonian would ever admit something like that. But it was. The New Order had gone in and changed the world, before settling down with their families once more, bearing children like Joss who were too tall and would have been 'left behind' for the imperfection.

His father was average height, which was why the suit was a little too snug on him, but that just meant the 'one size fits all' uniform that would have been a little baggy on his father, was form fitting on his son.

He looked like a ghost from a forgotten time, the pallor and death hollows of his cheeks, wasn't helping the look. But as he pulled the helmet on, covering his face, he took on a different form. He was another space traveller. Some old Vek or Nevedak trader in a thrift store suit, coming into port with a load of space junk to sell.

The black glass helmet, once sleek and flawless, was dinged and scuffed here and there, but it was still a clear symbol of the New Order.

Stepping into his bathroom, he grabbed his medications and shoved them into a small bag, along with a few personal things, an old memory stick with photographs of his parents, and his mother's degree.

Moving into the front hall, he retrieved his gun from the wall safe and secured it in the holster, grabbing all the ammo and the passcode for the platform where his retirement ship sat, he left his apartment, locking the door behind him.

#have a free original sci fi on me #i don't know what else to do with this thing #so enjoy a free read on spy

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itinerantscribe-blog · 5 years

Text

Day 25 of 28

Wow. So effortless seems life just now! Basic issues like crossing streets, high building, long queues blah blah blah notwithstanding. I mean the stuff that’s supposed to count. Work, that kind of stuff. I have more time. I have more energy. Guess what? With more time and more energy but no outlet to expend either, that desire declares its arrival immediately. I have used the additional time and energy so wisely before. That’s sarcasm, right? This was thus last night, around 8. I HATE saying I’m bored! HATE it. But I was. I wanted a scotch. Neither craved nor needed it, just wanted it as I could think of nothing else to do. I watched US Office bloopers and directed my step bedward. I could use this energy, this time, to make money. To get fitter. There are so many things I could do. Drinking is like curtains. The more of it you ingest, the more you pull shut the curtains, until just a chink of light, if any at all, manages to shine through. The longer you don’t drink, or indulge other external gear, the more you draw open the curtains. Until eventually they are wide open, revealing the full expanse of the panorama outside, the incredible, almost limitless tapestry of opportunity and variation that awaits. Who wants to live in the dark? It’s like Plato’s cave. Ish.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E0DUAnFwz8Y

My curtains are open, I am not sure how much more they will stretch back. Is there a limit? A point when they draw no more? Does not matter, what they reveal is enough. IF you want it.

I went to Waitrose, spontaneous, a quick in and out. So much the intention. Enough said about that. I used to work in Sainsburys, Saturday job when I was a kid. In Islington. It’s not there anymore. Much of my kid hood was spent in Islington. I was young, tasting life, wanting to taste everything in life, smoking, drinking, girls. Wow! Was that how I understood everything? How I defined it? Beer, smokes and sex?? I remember a girl, saw her every weekend in the pub 10 yards from my door. I didn’t find her attractive. Not one bit. But she was so, well, convenient. I didn’t have to venture far to utilise my burgeoning levels of testosterone. Colebroke Row, down a slope behind the garages. I had no idea what I was doing, she probably had no idea what I was doing either. But she also had no idea what she was doing. We were both fumbling around in the dark. Literally dark fumbling. She became slowly more adventurous, launching a public arm of discovery about my waist as I played the pub’s fruit machine. I used the old nudges feature of the game to duck and weave and manipulate her arm away, the shame to be seen with her more appropriately aimed at me than its intended path. She dumped me for another. Oh my, I was forlorn. The world was ending, I knew I would never recover. I recovered within 2 minutes of arriving at Uni.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8ODSG_wu-Zo

Do you think, is it likely, that the emotional platform from childhood is that which dictates the levels of emotional stability in later life? The more sturdy the framework, the sturdier the emotional resilience down the line? Is this not too obvious? And what if this is the case? Can the dais be rebuilt somehow? With ourselves its architect? Or is it a construction that cannot be dismantled? This period of reflection has found me covering ground I have covered before. There is a difference this time however. Normally I am craving beer, keen to re-admit it through the door to my existence. Not this time, it has not greatly figured on my mind at all. Its lack of monopoly on, or presence in my thoughts has freed my mind of the space it usual takes. I am coming to more definitive conclusions now that my mental focus has been so focused, so untrammelled by distracted thinking. I can stare this thing full in the face without diversion. I believe the inner child perspective has real merit. I believe emotional stunting early on has enormous influence and power over inner child development. I believe many if not ALL of my symptoms are easily more associated with a child’s behaviour than that of an adult. My fears are fears you would expect of a scared child, not a grown adult. The adult components, work problems, grown up crises, disagreements with peers, these create for me not a single iota of concern or fear. But the more basic, rudimentary, physical elements, they exact unspeakable horror and difficulty in my life. This is how a child, a very young child, might feel, react, not a rational adult. This is all so much clearer with a mind replete with clarity and clear thinking.

Does this, if it does indeed have validity, if there is some credence , does this hypothesis help? I think it does. I think I can take care of that inner child. With practice. However, it is not the only conclusion which I am reaching. I have, in this period of intensive, alcohol free, mind numbing self-analysis, also narrowed down, funnelled and distilled the symptoms of my ailment, which may also have resonance abroad. My condition can be isolated, ring fenced to small movements in big spaces. I have no problem if I can move at speed or frenetically. Impractical a permanent solution. I have no problem in small rooms or alone in my home. My problem seems to be most prominent when moving slowly, in concert with everyone else at pedestrian pace, conscious as I am of every single twinge or twang of my body, in big spaces. It is weird, I know, but this is the most repetitive and recurrent example of my thing. It needs refinement. True. I need to refine it before I return to the grain. I might be wasting my time but I don’t think so. A funny post script to this, no-one would know talking to me on the phone or in a meeting that I was possessed of such issues.

High speed trains. Arriving middle of the night in a foreign city. A smoke (smoke optional) with an espresso, a pastis on the side, A hard squash match. A game of pool. Sitting under a foreign sun in trunks by a pool in an almost empty hotel. Morocco. Skipping. Gordon Ramsay restaurants. High class cuisine. A book that subjugates all other activities to its dominion. Frozen banana chunks. Going to bed and falling asleep with ease. A splendid bodily evacuation. Uninvolved sex. Decent coffee. Going for a run. Train sets. Certain memories... Movies. The Office. Snow. Making people money. Christmas.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0IagRZBvLtw

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