#usually I ignore that and proceed with my delusions

[itsloveit]

the most heartbreaking part in healing itself is mourning your comfort reality you can’t stay in

[writing-for-life]

Dream’s Therapist

Nightmares

I peruse the client’s previous session notes to prepare as usual and decide to go over his journal entries together to find out what might cause his insomnia. It might also give clues as to why he believes he is a cosmic entity weaving stories, dreams and nightmares.

The client is punctual again (my receptionist informs me he was 20 minutes early). Upon entering my office, he hesitantly takes off his coat and lays it over his lap, neatly folded. I notice this is a deviation from his usual habit of keeping his coat on. I have once more made sure the room is only dimly lit to avoid discomfort, and I forego the apparently undesired small-talk.

DT: Last week, I asked you to journal about your daily routine and any thoughts that might come up. How did that go?

Dream: I did as requested. But unfortunately, nightmares refuse to be confined to paper.

DT (I notice he has apparently brought no journal or notes and rhymes things off from memory): So you did manage to sleep, but you had nightmares?

Dream (I notice the quirked eyebrow, but he seems to lift one corner of his mouth, too, which rather hints at amusement than annoyance): No to both. As I told you previously, I create them.

DT: Okay, tell me about them. What in particular made you journal about them?

Dream: Well, my nightmares are not unlike… unruly children (I notice a fleeting disengagement in his gaze before he quickly shakes his head and resumes). There is the Corinthian…

DT: Your nightmares have names and distinct personalities?

Dream (I notice he looks at me as if I’ve got two heads): Why yes, of course they do. They fulfil particular functions, and I gave them sentience. May I proceed?

DT (I notice prickliness due to my interruption, and I remind myself I really shouldn’t do that): Of course.

Dream: Thank you (He actually rolls his eyes at me at this stage). The Corinthian generally… misbehaves and tells me he wants to feel what it is like to be human. And thinks I only care about my realm and my rules.

DT (I notice a degree of displacement, projection and delusion all rolled into one and briefly contemplate my course of further questioning): And do you think he is right?

Dream (He voices something resembling a groan): Of course not.

DT: Well, last time, you told me you care about rules and responsibilities to a great degree. That you are the king of dreams and nightmares. That feelings are a quaint human invention. It sounds like he might have picked up on those… vibes? How does it make you feel if I suggest that might be a possibility?

Dream (I notice his fingers clutching the coat in his lap very tightly): It makes me feel annoyed that you are ignoring the fact that I don’t feel.

DT: You feel annoyed?

Dream (I notice his Adam’s apple moves up and down in quick succession, and his gaze briefly turns blank. He then blinks and looks straight at me again): The other nightmare is an endless staircase. I shall not tell you its name at this point as not to confuse you (He looks at me with an expression that hints at haughtiness. No, I think it’s pity). Each step leads to a different fear—abandonment, failure… (He stops himself and looks at me as if he expects an interruption.)

DT (I notice he has ignored my prodding for admitting that he does indeed feel. I, in turn, decide to play along): Interesting. And how do you relate to that particular nightmare?

Dream (I notice a somewhat annoyed sigh): I don’t. I am its creator.

DT: But isn’t that a relationship?

Dream (He looks out the window): Perhaps.

DT (I notice he seems somewhat zoned out): And did you ever think about bridging the gap between creator and creation?

Dream (I notice the eye-roll again before he looks at me): That is hardly necessary because they are me. After a fashion. As in: Not entirely. But also: Yes.

DT (I quickly hover on the thought whether this admission can be called progress or not): And how does that make you feel?

Dream: That they are… familiar, and comforting, even in their chaos (I notice he has forgotten to go into an immediate rant about not feeling and start to think we might be getting somewhere). But some of them are just extremely… disappointing.

DT: If they are disappointing, what would need to happen to make it less so? Could you… change these nightmares? Imagine them to be different?

Dream (I notice he uncomfortably straightens in his chair, and his jawline hardens): You are aware you, to a degree, want me to change myself by suggesting so?

DT: I don’t want anything.

Dream (I notice something that could almost be mistaken for a smile, and he blinks slowly): That is a lie.

DT (He is right of course, but I notice he is trying to turn the tables on me every time he wants to avoid a topic): What I was trying to imply is that we are not talking about my wants when we are on the topic of yours.

Dream: How unfortunate. In any case, do not trouble yourself, I know them anyway. (I notice he leans back in his chair and looks… smug?)

DT (I choose to ignore whatever this is): What about you then? What do you want?

Dream (I notice he looks at his boots. A few minutes of silence ensue. They don’t feel too uncomfortable): I want the endless staircase to lead to a cosmic bakery. I want each step to smell of freshly baked bread.

DT (He is clearly mocking me, he told me he hardly eats. I also notice it is past my usual lunchtime, I like bread and I’m hungry. But I decide to see where this is going. I stay silent. I stare at him. He still stares at his boots.)

Dream: There are also teacups in that bakery, and they gossip about the weather, debate existentialism, and occasionally sip Earl Grey. I think they are staging a revolution.

DT: A revolution?

Dream (He still stares at his boots): Yes, it is indeed absurd.

DT: Absurdity is our ally in here, nothing to get hung up on.

Dream (I notice his gaze finally disengaging from his boot and instead locking in on me. His mouth twitches. I am not sure if he smiles?): They demand equality. The cracked teacups want reparations for their shattered handles. The chipped ones insist on universal healthcare. And the most beautiful, rarest porcelain ones are terrified of being replaced.

DT (It gets harder not to laugh, but I just about manage since I can’t beat the feeling that this is just superficially funny but actually hinting at something deeper. It always does): And how do you feel about their demands?

Dream: I fear a teacup uprising (He flings his coat over the armrest of his chair). Can you imagine the horror of tiny porcelain picket lines?

DT (I am really grasping here): What if you gave them a common goal?

Dream (I notice he raises an eyebrow and cocks his head): What, like summoning the Teapot of Enlightenment? The one that brews wisdom instead of tea? Staining saucers in the process and leaving rings on tables?

DT: Gaining wisdom can be a messy affair I guess?

I notice the room seems to smell of tea and imaginary pastries and wonder what’s going on.

Dream (I notice he gauges my reaction for a good two minutes. I manage to hold his gaze. He holds mine. Until he doesn’t and looks at his boot again. The silence lasts for another three minutes): You are indulging my attempts at weaving absurd stories that are in no way related to your questions. Why?

DT: I am not indulging you. I’m letting you communicate whatever you wish to communicate. You might think it’s unrelated, but it tells me things, and that’s enough.

Dream (I notice he still doesn’t lift his chin, but he looks at me): And what does it tell you?

DT: Does it matter?

Dream: Perhaps.

DT: I don’t think it matters what I think about you, I am just here to ask questions that make you think. Maybe hold up a mirror on occasion.

Dream (I notice that his eyes disengage again, and his voice turns very quiet): What if I don’t like mirrors?

DT: I guess that’s okay, you don’t have to like the mirror. But if you don’t like what it reflects at you, you could change either what stands in front of it or how you relate to that reflection. Like you just changed the way you relate to your nightmares.

Dream (I notice he looks at me again): And what makes you think I changed the way I relate to my nightmares?

DT: Because you just told me a story about cosmic bakeries and teapots that weaved quite a bit of light into the darkness?

Dream (I notice he sighs and looks out the window): Like ink and stardust.

DT (I don’t follow): Pardon?

Dream (I notice he grabs his coat): I trust our time is up?

DT: Almost, but not quite. You can make use of the remainder if you want.

Dream (He gets up and puts on his coat): I do not. However, I shall… think. And write. In the journal.

DT: Same time next week then? Can I use ink to put your appointment in my diary?

Dream (I think he smiles, but it is hard to tell for certain): You may. I am sure you will also provide the stardust…

< Previous Session

> Next Session

[winxanity-ii]

❀ ° • • • ╮ 𝖂𝖊𝖑𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖊 ╰ • • • ° ❀

18+ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐤(𝐬) | 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐃𝐨 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭

The name's Xani, and welcome to my blog where i push out all the delusional scenarios/stories—both sfw and nsfw—my maladaptive daydreams like to stir up...

i'm not really sure how this goes, but if you guys have an idea you'd like to see written, send it, and hopefully my delusions will work in overdrive to complete them...

um, what else? i guess all i can say is don't hold back! though i may be new to this posting stuff, i've had my fair share of experiences, so whatever you think of, i most likely dabbled in it...

and if i do a good enough job on something and have more spunk in the gunk, i'll do my best to do a continuation on whatever...

also, don't be afraid to reblog/like either! it let's me know i'm doing a good job (not that i like being praised or anything hahahah, unless 👀)

i guess that's all. bye!

FANDOMS I WRITE FOR **

Recent Fic: 𝐈 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐑𝐨𝐛𝐨𝐭 ~ Install 5 | 🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽 | Yandere!Andy x Fem!Reader / Alien!AU

Top 6 Recent One-shots:

I Can't Hear You! 🔞 | cheercaptain!gojo / college!au

Like What You See?🔞 | fashion designer!gojo / model!au

Helping Hand | yuji / college!AU

Game Over 🔞 | gamer boyfriend!gojo / non-sorcerer!au

Washed Up | odysseus / epic: the muscial!AU

In The Silence | inumaki / college!au

**Please note that this blog is intended for audiences aged 18 years and above, minors DNI. Here, you'll find a mix of both safe-for-work (SFW), not safe-for-work (NSFW), and dark content.

And just a friendly reminder, if you prefer not to see certain types of content or are under 18, it's best not to proceed further. While I cannot fully control who accesses my work, if you so happen to be a minor who ignores this warning, and honestly, can't shame 'cuz I did the same when I was younger💀 I encourage you to read at your own discretion.

PLEASE READ BELOW BEFORE REQUESTING:

NOTE: I do NOT have a set writing-schedule! This is just a space for me to dump my self-insert writings, but feel free to ask questions/leave comments, they make my day 😊❤️❤️....

Also, I will NOT be responding to malicious Anonymous/Anon asks or posts; if you do, you will receive 1 reminder of this before getting ignored. It's nothing personal—I just prefer to respond to someone whose intentions are to criticism/expect me to change to their desires. If you have genuine questions, thoughts, or feedback, please reach out so we can have a real conversation, as well as get your questions fully answered and see more about what my mind is coming up with!

If not all, the majority of my work(s) will be written with the heavy intentions of poc!reader/black!reader but can be read by any ethnicities/races. Also, please understand that anything I write is solely for my enjoyment—if anything, you guys are just tagging along witnessing my delusions come to life in real-time; if you don’t like what I create, scram and make your own…like I did 😁

P.S. The quickest and swiftest way to get blocked is by telling me what I need to do in my writing(s)... like, be for real 😐

Also, and I can't possibly stress this enough, please refrain from stealing/plagiarizing ANY of my works! I am passionate about sharing my creations on this platform, but I must emphasize that I am the sole legal owner and author of any of my works posted. Any unauthorized use or plagiarism of my work will result in immediate takedown and legal action taken. Respect for copyright is essential to maintain the integrity of my original storyline and the characters within, and if not, I have zero-problems with taking them down indefinitely! Enjoy~😊

Key: xani-writes: (works/fics) xani-rants: (random thought) xani-responds: (usually responses to asks/etc.) xani-navi: (my master lists/etc)

𝐚𝐥𝐭 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: lulu-4-u | Lusion

[magnoliabloomfield]

Gally imagine part 6

Part one Part two Part three Part four Part five

It wasn’t until I was laying in my lumpy bed that night that things started to occur to me. It finally hit me, maybe all the things he said I should change were things he noticed... no, that was dumb it was all just basic stuff.

Except for the pants dance. He’d come up with that specifically and he’d turned fifty shades of red. Maybe that one meant something to him personally.

I found myself grinning in the dark and slapped a hand over my upturned lips, embarrassed for no reason. I tried to ignore the thought of Gally being attracted to me and the sprinkly feeling it gave me deep inside, and also shoved away the thought I had that he was cute and tried to get to sleep. But I don’t think I stopped grinning all night.

I paid attention to Gally from the corner of my eyes after that. It was hard to find out how observant someone was of you and not let on that you were trying to observe them right back. It was terrifying but some how a victory whenever I’d look up and make direct eye contact with him, the thrill when either he looked surprised before averting his gaze like he hadn’t been watching, or would hold my gaze until I was the one who couldn’t handle it anymore.

Sometimes I’d be brave in the lunch line and give a brief greeting as I passed him, usually a simple “Gally” and a nod with a barely contained smirk. Sometimes he’d surprise me and sit at the same table, usually when Newt was there as well since they were pretty good friends which was unexpected to me for some reason. But they would talk and it would let me pop in some appropriate questions about things around the glade and stories of before I got there. It got me more accustomed to talking to Gally, broke what was left of the ice after the laughing in the woods.

I was really figuring out that my first impression of him wasn’t very accurate. He was serious, but about his work because they had to do it safely and make it safe for everyone to use. He seemed mean but it was because he was protective and as I was out of the ordinary I was seen as a threat at first. He liked order and peace, and it was quite vital to maintaining their precarious life there, but teenage boys were always on the verge of anarchy and madness. Gally was forced to mature faster and had to put the fear of death into the new guys who had delusions of slacking off. Gally wasn’t uncaring, he was just... aggressively caring.

Every time I learned something about who Gally was I’d notice something else, like the peppering of freckles on his skin, how one side of his mouth would go higher than the other on the rare occasion he would smile, or how full and nice his lips were. With every nice new thing about his personality he became better and better looking to me.

It was like getting to know a big dog that had growled at you. You let them sniff you and you make sure they’re ok before you try to pet them, you read their body language, and while you may find they have very soft ears and you’d like to mush their cute face up, you are a little intimidated to, they could change their mind and growl at you again if you weren’t careful.

I could tell he was feeling odd about figuring out what to call me since I never had remembered my name. Most called me Greenie still, others called me Girly and of course Newt called me Muppet, but I saw Gally decide that he could not call me that. We found out what he wanted to call me at the bonfire when the next Greenie arrived.

The fighting circle had seemed scary and dumb when I’d first gotten there and they tried to proceed with it like life was still normal, but now it had a certain appeal, at least to watch.

Gally was an effortless powerhouse, but he didn’t just throw it around because he could, he conserved his energy and strength so he could have longer endurance. He waited for a good opening before he exerted himself. He was pretty much an undefeated champion. It was a spectacle and as much entertainment as I was going to get around here.

Gally was red faced but hadn’t broken a sweat when he was looking for his sixth contender. While his back was turned I felt someone grab my shoulders from behind and thrust me into the circle.

“Hey Gally! Fresh meat!” Whoever it was yelled and the other boys cheered louder than I’d ever heard them before.

Gally looked surprised then amused when he turned around and saw me.

I gave a fake and nervous laugh. “Oh, no, no. I didn’t- I wasn’t-“

“Too late, you’re in the circle now,” Gally said and I could tell he was having fun with this and making up rules.

The boys barred me from leaving, compacting themselves together so I couldn’t break through. I could feel Gally pacing on the opposite side of the circle, eyeing me up for the kill, I could tell.

“I don’t know the rules,” I tried to argue as I felt my heart trying to crawl up my throat as I turned back toward Gally.

He started taking slow steps toward me, the glower in his eyes had my lungs struggling to do the simple job they usually could do in my sleep just fine.

Gally made a sudden motion where he lowered a little and spread his arms a little wider like he was about to rush me and I jumped, taking a half step back. He broke into a chuckle and the fullest smile I’d ever seen on his face which he quickly tried to hide by looking down.

“Just stay in the circle as long as you can,” Newt told me from the sidelines after making his way closer to me.

“That’s not actually helpful,” I said, flicking him as I passed, trying to stay as far from Gally as he slowly stalked me around the circle. “What’s he allowed to do to me? What am I allowed to do to him? What can’t I do?”

I was only about 70% convinced Gally wouldn’t actually hurt me, but I knew I wasn’t getting out of this without something happening to me and I had no idea what it could be. And I knew I couldn’t do a single thing to him. I could try, but it’d be an embarrassing failure.

Finally tired of playing cat and mouse with me, Gally closed the space between us. He caught my wrist and ducked, throwing me over his shoulder. I felt the wind knocked out of me as my organs got rearranged from the pressure of his shoulder in my stomach, but the sensation of his hand gripping my lower thigh was overwhelming.

I felt him walk me a short distance before setting me down ever so gently on the outside of the circle. As he straightened up, right when his eyes were level with mine he paused.

“Don’t get carried away, Princess,” he said softly just for me and then... and then he winked. He smirked at my wide eyes before he straightened up the rest of the way and took a few steps backward, back into the center of the circle. I could have caught several flies with my open mouth.

Part 7

[loveisnotadagger]

Love Is Healing - Chapter Five

Chapter 5/?

The next day Arianna focused on healing Loki's burns since she hadn't been able to the night before. Arianna knew that Frigga and Thor had to leave that day, so she let them stay in the room with her as she worked. Plus, she didn't want to be alone with Loki. He had gotten under her skin the night before and she was still a little irritated with him.

Loki had been right about one thing, however, and that was that she hadn't been able to draw power from the Tesseract the night before because she'd been too tired. She had since slept and was using it fine now.

She worked on Loki for a few hours before leaving him, leaving the tower to go out and see how much destruction had actually been done.

"Oh my God," she said as she stepped out of the building and into the world outside.

She hadn't really seen everything the day before. There were buildings still smoking from yesterday, and there were piles of rubble on the ground from the buildings and the streets having been hit. Seeing as this wasn't a residential area, most of the buildings were businesses and restaurants. It hadn't lowered the death count or the amount of people that had been hurt.

Police were still out, so she wondered if they were still searching the ruins for victims.

"Let's go," Natasha said from behind her. "Tony has a helicopter waiting for us. We'll go to the closest hospital and work our way out."

They had to cross the street and use the helipad there because the one on Tony's tower had been destroyed. As they walked Arianna began to feel as if she were in a movie about the end of the world. The apocalypse had come to Manhattan.

She felt like crying, but tears were for victims and people who had time to cry. Arianna, however, had a job to do.

"We've got clearance, right? No roadblocks?"

"We should be good." ----------

When all was said and done, the injured were numbered in the hundreds, as were the dead. Arianna healed in a logical, systematic way, starting with the most injured and ending with the least.

She spent about two hours each day with Loki and by the end of the week his burns and lacerations were completely healed. The only injury he had left was his broken ribs.

She brought him meals each day – breakfast, lunch, and dinner – and he was now able to eat solid food. She noticed he had quite the sweet tooth when she brought him some ice cream and a small piece of pie for dessert once. He's asked for more and had neglected his dinner.

It made sense when she found out that Asgard didn't really have any sweets. The sweetest thing he'd ever had was fruit, so she hoped the extra sugar didn't make Loki sick.

On the day Fury was supposed to come and retrieve Loki Arianna brought Loki pancakes for breakfast. He didn't know what they were, but he enjoyed them. Arianna had basically drowned them in syrup. Loki was able to eat only one, but Arianna ate the rest.

"Those were mine," he said, though Arianna could tell he really didn't mind.

"I made them," she reminded him.

"They were quite delicious."

"Thank you.

"So . . . Fury is supposed to come today. I'm not sure exactly what that means. He'll probably take you away and lock you up. I don't think he'll put you with other people, so you'll be safe at least."

"Or they might just torture me some more.," Loki said quietly. "Even mortal I have much information that could be useful."

"Then don't let them know."

Arianna didn't know why it made her almost want to cry at the thought of Loki being hurt further, but it did and she had to take a deep breath to steady herself.

"Pretend you have memory loss if you have to, but don't let them know you know anything that they don't unless you intend to tell them."

Arianna was under no delusions of thinking SHIELD was all good. It was a government agency and, therefore, could get away with a lot of things nobody should be allowed to do. They would torture him if they found need of it.

"Would you like to go outside? If you don't today, you may not be able to for a while."

Loki considered for a moment before smiling weakly. "That would be nice." ---------- Loki didn't know what he had expected, but being allowed to go out of the building without any restraints wasn't it. He hadn't expected the other Avengers to let Arianna go out alone with him either, but there they were.

They'd just stepped out of Stark Tower and onto the sidewalk, and Loki suddenly wanted to go back inside. Things outside were horrible. Buildings had been destroyed and roads had been turned to rubble. The costs of the war he'd brought upon this city . . .

He really shouldn't have left the tower. What if someone recognized him? They would probably try to kill him. Try and fail. He knew Arianna would never allow harm to come to him while under her watch.

"This isn't what I want you to see," she said. "But we need to cross the street to get to the helipad."

"We're going to fly?"

"For a little bit. Low enough so you can see things. I don't know if you should be walking around outside."

Loki couldn't help the relief he felt at Arianna's suggestion. He shouldn't walk around outside.

Once they had reached the helipad and the helicopter and were in the air, Loki felt a freedom he hadn't felt for a long time. He'd learned to fly when he was just a boy – not a helicopter, of course, but they did have machines that could fly in Asgard.

Arianna was silent for the most part until they had been in the air for a while. She didn't even seem to be enjoying the view, and what could be seen now was beautiful.

"May I ask what is bothering you?" he asked.

"I hate this," she said immediately. "This . . . us giving you up to Fury. I mean, no, you're definitely not the most upstanding citizen, but you were pushed into this, pushed into coming here and trying to take over. You would've been tortured if you hadn't. Most people would've done the same as you have."

Loki stared at her. Arianna had this way about her that made Loki feel as if he was cared about. His heart craved it and rejected it at the same time. If he was being honest with himself, Loki knew he craved affection from someone who could love him for what he was. He was nowhere near as bad now that Thanos wasn't playing with his mind, but he was far from what a normal person would consider good.

Arianna could accept him as he was, but he also had to admit that such open affection wasn't completely welcome. Feelings got in the way of other things.

Besides, right that instant he was feeling only gratitude. This girl had done more for him in a week than many had done in his entire lifetime.

His thankfulness wasn't misplaced. ---------- Fury was already at Stark Tower when Loki and Arianna got back. Arianna came to a halt and she felt Loki run into her before he stopped as well. He'd barely touched her back and she barely moved.

Fury stood between two agents, both of whom had a gun. Tony was there, as were the other Avengers – minus Thor, who, along with Frigga, had left days before taking the Tesseract with them.

"Are the guns really necessary?" Arianna asked. "He's in no shape to put up a fight."

"The guns aren't for him," Fury said, firm but also somewhat uncertain. "It's to ensure that you don't put up a fight."

"Me?"

Arianna was honestly confused about this. She wasn't a threat to anyone.

"Yes. My superiors are not happy about you siding with the man that attacked this city. Consider this a warning. You were dangerously close to treason."

"I was doing what I knew to be right."

"Not to mention, she'd promised Loki's mother that she would take responsibility for his healing," Tony said. "Who knows what would've happened had she refused?"

"Indeed," Fury replied. "I wasn't finished. Agent Grace is a valuable asset to this team. One I don't wish to lose. The Council and I agreed that she could very well help the Asgardian acclimate himself to our ways."

"What?"

"In exchange for information Loki can remain free. He'll be under constant surveillance, of course. Agents Barton and Romanoff will be watching him. Everyone will remain here, and –"

Tony interrupted. "I think everyone keeps forgetting that this is my place."

Fury ignored Tony's words. "If you are amenable," he directed at Arianna, "I will alert the Council and things can proceed as usual."

Arianna looked at Natasha and Clint. "Guys? Are you willing to give up time to do this?"

Arianna already knew her answer was yes, but it wouldn't matter unless the others went for it as well.

Natasha agreed, but Arianna knew it was only because Fury had asked it of her and not because she had any real desire to do so. Clint agreed because Natasha had agreed.

"Tony?"

Arianna turned to him now. This was his home. He could turn them all out at any time and Arianna wouldn't blame him.

"You guys haven't been too much of a nuisance," Tony quipped. "You can stay. But no touching my stuff."

Arianna grinned. "Seeing as to how I don't know how to use most of your stuff, that won't be a problem."

She then looked at Loki, who had been strangely silent throughout the entire exchange, only to find that he'd wrapped his arms around himself and was staring suspiciously at Fury and the two agents with him.

"Loki?" She touched his arm gently. If he'd withdrawn into himself, she didn't want to alarm him. "What's wrong?"

"Why?" he asked. "Why not lock me up?"

"Information," Fury answered. "As long as you cooperate . . ."

Arianna tensed, as did Loki, though each had a different reason for becoming tense. Arianna was angry but not surprised that the people she worked with would stoop to threats to get what they wanted. She was also furious that Fury and his superiors were no better than the monster named Thanos.

Loki had tensed because of the threat itself. It had reminded him of the words Thanos had said about him failing to conquer Midgard and failing to bring Thanos the Tesseract. There would be pain. He was in the same situation now with another enemy.

"Loki, just say yes and you can stay," Arianna said. "Don't make this harder than it has to be."

"Okay," he said. "I accept the arrangement." ---------- That night Arianna made plans with Tony to have someone get her things from her apartment in Washington D.C. and to have them brought to the tower. She also needed to break her lease, which she was going to get Fury to take care of since it was his fault she had to relocate in the first place.

She talked Tony into giving Loki an actual room, which really just meant that Loki would be able to have more than just the bed and closet space that he had at the moment. He would eventually be able to have things in there.

Loki still had the room next to hers, which she didn't really mind. He actually was fairly harmless at the moment. She could probably do more damage than he could right now.

It was true that she had healed him almost completely, but he still wasn't at a hundred percent energy-wise.

That first night, Loki caught her before she could make her way into her own room.

"Agent Grace?"

His voice stopped her. He'd never said her name before, had never even shown that he'd thought to remember her name, but here he was using her name with what could only be described as respect.

"Yes, Loki?"

She turned to him. He was standing in his doorway, his posture a little slouched due to his still injured ribs. He didn't have any hostility in his face or eyes, so she assumed it was safe to approach him. When she reached him he grabbed her hand, which she hadn't expected at all, but he was being gentle and careful so she didn't pull away.

When he set his lips upon the back of her hand for a few brief seconds she froze. Heat traveled up her neck and settled upon her cheeks. Loki obviously noticed because he smirked slightly before lowering her hand back to her side.

She would have been angry, but she couldn't see a hint of an ulterior motive in Loki, and she would've felt it from the skin-on-skin contact if he'd had a negative reason for kissing her hand.

"Thank you," he said. "For everything you've done for me. For what you're still doing. I don't quite understand why you're doing it, but I don't think I have to. My mother said I should befriend you because you have a good heart. I do believe she was right."

Arianna had no clue what she was supposed to say to any of this. No one had said such things to her before without wanting something in return. What did one do in a situation like this?

"Um . . . thank you?" She sounded unsure to her own ears, so she had no idea what Loki would think. She told herself she didn't care.

"There's no need to be nervous. It's just a thank you."

Loki gave a small but genuine smile, and Arianna answered with her own.

"Well, you're welcome," she said sincerely. "And you can call me Arianna. Good night, Loki."

"Good night . . . Arianna."

@smallangryandpink, @purplekitten30

[sablelab]

Covert Operations - Chapter 143

SUMMARY: Madeline makes her way to Centre to see Mr Lambert to ascertain what exactly Colum Mackenzie had been relaying to him about the Rising Dragons’ mission, their operatives James Fraser and Claire Beauchamp and in particular Section One itself.

Chapter 142(S) and all other chapters can be found at … https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations  

THANK YOU all so much for reading, liking, reblogging and leaving your lovely comments about Jamie and Claire from last week’s chapter. I know it will be hard for them to leave such a beautiful place and return to Section but alas eventually they must to finish what they started. I hope that you will enjoy these next couple of chapters where new intel comes to hand that will have a significant bearing on how Section One proceeds next.  Thank you again for supporting my story. It is very much appreciated

 CHAPTER 143

Madeline glanced at her GPS. She was not far away and knew she would be at her destination within twenty minutes. It was not the usual protocol to have a leader of one of the other sections make a visit to Centre unless they were summoned there by Mr. Lambert himself. However, drastic times required drastic measures and Madeline was here to see the supreme leader of all the Sections to sort out what exactly Colum Mackenzie had been relaying to him about the Rising Dragons’ mission, their operatives James Fraser and Claire Beauchamp and in particular Section One itself. Operations and Madeline needed to get to the bottom of Colum’s ulterior interests in the triad as well as setting the record straight as far as Section One stood in regard to the mission for Mr. Lambert. They were flying blind as to what Intel he had been passing on and what, if any interference, he had instigated in the capturing of Sun Yee Lok and his cohorts. Madeline’s task was to make sure that Colum did not jeopardise the next phase of the Rising Dragons’ mission in any way to further his own agenda. It was agreed that she be the designated go-between as she could keep a more level head rather than Operations. He could easily have flown off the handle at the mention of his nemesis and brother Colum. There was no telling what he would have done if there had been any meddling so far by Oversight to usurp command away from Section One because of some ulterior motive by a self-serving megalomaniac that was their immediate leader. It was their perceived notion that Colum’s delusions of grandeur and lust for power knew no boundaries in his rivalry against Dougal however, they had little knowledge that he may have had ulterior motives for his frequent visits to Section One only suppositions. Therefore, it was imperative that she got a heads up on the proceedings as well as set Mr. Lambert on the right path as to how Section One was handling the Rising Dragons’ mission and Claire and Jamie’s continued involvement. But more importantly, they wanted Colum Mackenzie to be ordered to cease and desist with his interference in Section One business or they would deal with him in their own way. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Everything within Centre was stark … the walls … the hallways, even the operatives. Madeline made her way up one such austere hallway and walked up to an uncluttered desk behind which sat Michelle, the young woman receptionist. On hearing the footsteps stop, she looked up to see Section One’s Head Strategist standing in front of her desk. She addressed her professionally and with a little warmth in her voice. “Good morning.”  However, Madeline’s reply was less than cordial. “Is he in?” “He’ll be a minute. Have a seat,” Michelle intonated looking over to where there was seating with her eyes. Madeline ignored her statement and merely continued to stand for a moment, before leaning over Michelle’s desk to talk to her. She was not used to being kept waiting and her patience was running thin.

Her tone was a little intimidating. “How is Mr. Lambert doing this morning?”  However, the Personal Assistant was not in the least perturbed by her mannerism. Hearing the question, Michelle looked up at her slowly, which riled Madeline even more. The receptionist had a slight, secretive smile on her face as if all the tea in China wouldn’t persuade her to divulge any Intel about the elusive Mr. Lambert.

“You know that I can’t tell you that.” A little put out by the change in power roles Madeline changed her facial features and gave the girl a wry smile.

“Well what can you tell me?”  Averting her gaze from Section One’s doyen, Michelle ignored her question and glanced down at a small handheld LED device before her, which read … “Send Madeline in”. Looking back at the commanding, elegantly dressed woman waiting to see the Head of Centre she relayed his instructions with the hint of a reserved smile.

“He’s ready to see you now.”  Madeline nodded with a sombre face at the secretary’s words and made her way through the door that led into the office to join her superior, Mr. Lambert.  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ The Head of Centre sat behind his stark, white desk in a grey suit, hands clasped before him on the top waiting for his visitor. As Madeline entered the two figures eyed each other off warily before a slight smile appeared on Mr. Lambert’ lips. She in turn gave nothing away as to her mindset and stood with her hands behind her back. The tension in the air could have been cut with a knife but Mr. Lambert initiated the first conversation. He addressed Section One’s second-in-command in a dry, humourless manner.

“Hello, Madeline. I’ve been expecting you.” “Mr. Lambert,” she replied equally as indirect. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit to Centre?” He paused, waiting for an answer but when none was forthcoming, he continued,“Is this a personal matter or business call?” “A bit of both,” Madeline stated looking him in the eye with an enigmatic smile. “I see … Do we have something to discuss then?”  “As a matter of fact, we do.”  However, Mr. Lambert ignored her statement and instead gestured towards a leather winged chair with his hand. “Please take a seat I’ll just inform Michelle that we will be requiring refreshments.” He gave Madeline a surreptitious look and quickly summed up her demeanour adding knowingly, “We may be here for a while.”  Depressing his intercom, he made his requests succinctly. “Michelle … we require tea for two and some finger sandwiches ASAP.” “Very good sir. Will that be all?” “I’ll let you know if I have any further requirements.” “Certainly. I won’t be long.” “Thank you,” he relied then looked up at Madeline who was now sitting in the armed chair facing his desk. She’d watched the leader of all the Sections clandestinely as he’d spoken with his Personal Assistant but raised her eyes when he next spoke to her. “So Madeline, you were saying that we had something to discuss. Please enlighten me. You have my undivided attention,” he announced sitting back in his office chair while observing Section’s strategist beneath guarded eyes. He was intrigued as to why she was here and not Operations. “I would like to debrief actually. I thought you may like a woman’s perspective on how we are doing things at Section One Mr. Lambert.” “About the Rising Dragons’ mission no doubt.” He studied her face but Madeline gave nothing away as to what she may be thinking. She gave him a wry smile and a nod of her head, replying evasively, “And other things.” Mr. Lambert raised an eyebrow at her open-ended statement and elucidated, “Yes … I would like that very much ... we don’t meet nearly enough Madeline.” “Very true.” He then literally threw the cat amongst the pigeons, which had the Head Strategist seeing red with his next innocuous statement. “Colum informed me that you may have a situation at One that requires my attention.” “Is that so? What else has he informed you of … without our knowledge?” was her telling rejoinder. “The usual … a bit of this and a bit of that,” he replied in an elusive voice.  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ It took all Madeline’s resole to bite her tongue at his evasive remark. Obviously, it was true then; Colum Mackenzie had been discussing Section One’s business. Section’s doyen was seething to think that Mr Lambert had been given Intel about them without their approval or prior knowledge. She needed to find out what Intel Colum had passed on and where they stood in regards to the Rising Dragons’ mission. It was obvious that damage control with Mr. Lambert may be crucial to offset any problems Oversight’s leader may have caused them or may cause them in fulfilling the mission and in capturing Sun Yee Lok. Madeline was forthright in her reply to Centre’s patriarch. “Please tell sir … I am most interested to hear Colum’s stance on how Section One is conducting the Rising Dragons’ mission. What has he been telling you?”  The smile on her lips failed to reach her eyes and Mr. Lambert knew immediately that not all was right between Oversight and Section One. He gave Madeline a shrewd glance realising that Colum Mackenzie may indeed have been interfering in the mission for some personal one-upmanship.  He knew that Dougal and Colum didn’t always see eye to eye on certain things when he had called all the leaders together on other occasions. There certainly was hostility between the two combatants but it undoubtedly kept Section One and Oversight on their toes and made for better results all round on missions. However, judging by Madeline’s forced demeanour, he was aware that One was in the dark as far as Colum was concerned. Obviously there had been some discrepancies in regard to the Rising Dragons’ mission and he was extremely interested to see where each differed. But first things first … he would like to get Madeline’s opinion on his statement about Colum and go from there.  Leaning back in his chair he crossed his hands on the desk in front of him and asked, “So tell me … is the situation at One under control?” Madeline gave the appearance that his question was superfluous. “I don’t know what Colum Mackenzie has been saying, but the situation he is referring to was a storm in a teacup. It was nothing significant for him to have bothered you about.” This will be interesting, he thought. “Colum said you had a breach. Are you telling me he was wrong?” “Categorically,” was her succinct rejoinder. “There was never a breach.” Mr. Lambert rubbed his chin deep in thought. “I see … he seemed quite adamant though.” He looked at her closely to see if Madeline flinched at his words. She didn’t. “There was no breach in security sir … just a malfunction that was quickly rectified by our communications expert, Mr. Claudel to Operations’ and my satisfaction.” “That is good news indeed.” He tried to make light of the situation and with humour in his voice he stated, “Obviously Colum jumped the gun as usual.” “He tends to do that a lot if I’m not mistaken,” was Madeline’s tacit reply hoping that by doing so she would have planted a seed of doubt about the validity of anything Colum Mackenzie had said recently about the running of Section One, Jamie and Claire or the Rising Dragons’ mission for that matter. He ignored her telling barb and continued. “Tell me how your two recovering operatives are. They are on downtime I believe.” “Yes they are.” “Colum informs me that there is a cloud over their recovery and hence has instigated his own plans for Oversight to intervene to bring the Rising Dragons’ leader to heel should they not be fit to continue on the mission.” “Really? I don’t know why he would infer any such thing. I can assure you that both our two top operatives, James Fraser and Claire Beauchamp are doing exceptionally well and will be returning to Section One sooner rather than later to take up where they left off with capturing the Rising Dragons’ leader and his cohorts. Their rehabilitation has been quicker than anticipated within the two weeks allocated for their downtime.” “I see.” “Sir … You mentioned that Colum has initiated plans of his own. May I ask … what those plans are?” Madeline asked nonchalantly in inquisitiveness rather than interest. “Hmm … I believe he said he has an informant chasing up leads.” Piqued by his information Madeline asked out of curiosity, “And who might that be? It wouldn’t be John Grey by any chance?” “Who?” “He freelances,” she replied to the intonation in his voice for more information. Mr. Lambert was happy with her explanation and replied accordingly. “No … Colum always uses an informant called Jurgen. They seem to have an excellent working relationship. Has Section One used his services too?” Madeline took note of Colum’s contact whom Operations had discounted in favour of Grey and for good reason obviously. “On occasion, but his reports were not always accurate, I’m afraid,” she added to infer that whatever he may have told Colum about the Rising Dragons or Sun Yee Lok may not be able to be verified. However, that was a telling piece on information they could use. John Grey could work to their advantage. Operations had made the right call. Madeline was confident that Colum’s informant was more removed from having direct data on the triad than would Grey, but it would be interesting to check him out just in case. Stopping information at the source could be arranged if needs be if Colum’s informant knew too much, she thought. Piqued by this update Madeline asked interestingly, “Has Jurgen managed to find any new Intel for Colum that we don’t know about?” However, before he could elaborate further, there was a knock on the door and Michelle entered with their refreshments. Once she had finished serving Mr. Lambert and Madeline their tea and snacks, she discretely left the two leaders to their discussion. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The last thing on her mind was partaking in the refreshments left for them by Mr Lambert’s Personal Assistant, but nevertheless she did so with civility. However, at the back of her mind she wanted to know if Colum had any new Intel from Jurgen that Section One could intercept and use. She also wondered how much Mr. Lambert really knew about the Rising Dragons’ mission and realised that this was her chance to convey to him the truth of the matter.  “As you were saying sir before we were interrupted,” Madeline stated nonchalantly sipping her tea but wanting to know exactly what it was that Colum knew about the Rising Dragons that they might not. “Ah, yes. Colum did say he had some dossiers on Jamie and Claire and their successes so far in the mission.”

Madeline glanced at Mr. Lambert. “That’s interesting. I wonder why he would need to keep files on our two top operatives?”

However, the Head of Centre was not at liberty to tell her the real reason why Colum Mackenzie was doing what he had asked of him, and instead gave her a plausible reply.

“I would assume he is interested in their strategic and execution procedures as an example to his own operatives. James Fraser and Claire Beauchamp are your two best operatives are they not?  They are exemplary in what they do and Section One must be proud of their achievements thus far in fragmenting the triad.”

“Thank you, sir.  Dougal and I are very aware of the contribution they have made and when they were injured it was only right that they have some well-earned downtime to recuperate.”

“Yes indeed, they need to be in top physical and mental shape to continue what they started and complete the End Game. Mental acuity and physical prowess are crucial for all operatives.  They need to have their wits about them at all times on a dangerous mission.”

“Agreed.”

Then she cast doubt about Oversight’s leader’s objectives for his involvement in the Rising Dragons’ mission per se. “Please continue sir; I’m fascinated to know what else Colum has relayed to you about the Rising Dragons’ triad. Can you shed light on that?”

Mr Lambert was conscious of Madeline’s skepticism but continued nonetheless. “Only that he had Intel suggesting that Sun Yee Lok was laying low after several of his hierarchy had been eliminated and that the triad was obviously trying to regroup their losses.”

“That is old news sir,” was her candid response. “Jamie and Claire were instrumental in achieving that result. I’m sure if his informant had anything substantial about Sun Yee Lok, he would have passed it on.”

“I believe he did say that the triad leader may also have interests in the lucrative casino business in Macau.”

This indeed was new intel and knowing too well that Colum had not revealed his source or that he had relayed this information to Operations or herself. Section’s Head Strategist held a wry smile behind pursed lips when she heard this statement. “Is that conjecture or fact?” she asked enigmatically.

“I expect he will pass that Intel on to you at One to verify Madeline.”

“But of course, sir, Oversight always has Section One’s best interests at heart.”

The Head of all the Sections, looked at One’s second-in-command sensing some cynicism in her voice.

Madeline bit her lip to hold back the dry reaching in her mouth at her subsequent words. “Perhaps you would like Section to work in tandem with Oversight if you feel that is warranted sir.” “I see no reason for that. I’m sure Section has everything under control with the mission.”  “We do.” Spoken succinctly, her words only emphasised that Section One was indeed up to speed on all things pertaining to the Rising Dragons and their leader Sun Yee Lok.

She took another sip of her tea and in a laid-back manner added, “Perhaps a word from you to Colum would be justified then to assure him that we do indeed have things in hand.” “I can certainly do that Madeline. I was surprised by his admission to such an interest in the triad, but there is really no need for Oversight to be involved at this late stage when Section One has done all the ground work over these past months.” “Of course sir.” Placing her cup on the table beside her, Madeline then asked in an offhand manner. “Did Colum have anything else to report?”  Mr Lambert followed suit and placed his cup on his desk. “Only that like us all, he would like to see a conclusion to the whole Rising Dragons’ saga ASAP. I guess patience was never his strong virtue though Madeline … certainly not like yourself or Dougal for that matter.”  The irony of his reply was not lost on her but Madeline didn't respond to Mr. Lambert’s observation. Rather she managed to set the record straight as to what Section One was doing even if it contradicted with anything that Colum may have told him. “We have already profiled an end game mission for when Jamie and Claire return from their downtime.” Her words were in direct contrast to what Colum had told him. His suspicions of his actions and the reasons why he would do such a thing filled his head. Something was certainly amiss. Although Madeline was responsive to his answers something about her bearing was not quite right either. Was Colum indeed interfering and putting his nose where it wasn’t wanted in regards to the triad?  Or did he have additional motives other than the directive he had given him in regards to James Fraser and Claire Beauchamp?

He would need to speak sternly to Oversight’s leader to sort this out.  

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“So, their recuperation was successful?” “Very … In fact, Jamie and Claire are due back at Section shortly and will be returning to the Rising Dragons’ mission to complete what they started in capturing the leader of the triad Sun Yee Lok.” “I see.” Mr. Lambert looked at her intently with a glance that indicated that he wanted to know the truth. “Tell me Madeline. Has Colum been interfering in the running of this mission in any way?” However, her response was an enigma which left it for him to make up his mind about the situation. “I feel that is for you to decide Mr. Lambert. What I can say … is that Section One has always been 100% focused on the success in capturing Sun Yee Lok and the downfall of the Rising Dragons.” Mr. Lambert was enthralled by an obvious cat and mouse game between Section One and Oversight. Colum Mackenzie had his explicit orders but if he was in any way jeopardising these that would alert Madeline and Operations as to his reasons why then Colum would need to be reprimanded. He tried to pin point where he may have gone rogue and voiced his opinion to see if it was indeed true. He furrowed his brows before speaking.

“If Oversight becomes involved, the success of the mission is not guaranteed. Is that what you are indicating Madeline?” “You can judge for yourself which would be the better option sir … Oversight or Section One … but I believe so.” He sat back in his chair and folded his arms on the desk intrigued with her answer, then solicited her response to try to get to the bottom of this conundrum. “Why?”

“Section One knows the members of the triad extremely well and can move expeditiously in capturing Sun Yee Lok and his other hierarchy.” “I see … please continue.” “So far Jamie and Claire have been extremely successful in that. We also have a window of opportunity for the next phase in planning because the triad believes that they are dead. This will work to our advantage.”  “Point taken.” “Although Colum has some Intel on the triad and triad members, he may unwittingly jeopardise the success of the mission. We have prior knowledge and have invested much in bringing the triad to its knees. Do you think it wise that Oversight enter the fray now when Section has achieved so much? I think not.” “You have a convincing argument Madeline. I am not surprised by your passion for the success of the Rising Dragons’ mission and I see no reason why it should not continue. I will inform Colum of my decision.” “As you wish.” “Is there anything else that I can help you with?” Seizing her chance, Madeline stated, “There is one thing.” “Name it.” “Mr Claudel will be in need of more support in Systems when the Rising Dragons’ mission is in full swing. Perhaps Frank Wolverton-Randall could be transferred back to One from his substation to assist him.” “That’s a prudent move given that he has worked with Mr Claudel before.  I think we can arrange for him to return to Section. Request granted.”  “Thank you, sir.”  Mr. Lambert stood and made his way over to Madeline as she rose from the chair. “It has been a pleasure Madeline … but don’t let your next visit be so long in-between …” “No, I won’t.”  “… and if you need to reach me for anything concerning the Rising Dragons’ mission, I’ll be available over the red line,” he added in clarification. The underlying meaning of his words was telling leaving Madeline with the impression that he would take care of Colum Mackenzie and his meddling. “Thank you, Mr. Lambert.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ He watched Section’s doyen retreat from his office. However, her departure had resulted in many conflicting thoughts. Their conversation had left Mr Lambert with too many unanswered questions and the possibility that Colum may have been trying to pull the wool over his eyes in regards to his interest in the Rising Dragons’ mission and as an addendum, Operations and Madeline’s handling of it. He was not happy. Leaning over his solid, wood desk, he forcibly depressed the call button. The tone of his voice was intimidating.

“Michelle … get me Colum Mackenzie on the line!”

“Yes sir.”

Meanwhile at Oversight …

In next to no time the connection was made and Colum Mackenzie waited to hear why Centre’s Head was calling.  However, when he answered the call, he could tell that this call was not a social one.  

“Hello Colum.” “Mr. Lambert.” “I have just had a very interesting visit from Madeline.” “You did?” was his surprised reply wondering why Section’s strategist would be visiting Centre. “Yes. I was debriefed on the Rising Dragons’ mission and Section One’s continuance plans. They seem to have everything in hand. Would you care to comment?” Colum took heed of his leader’s voice tone, but particularly his words, wondering if Madeline had alerted him to anything underhand that she may suspect with his continued visits to Section One. The silence at the end of the phone was deafening before a stuttering voice replied, “N … n … no.” “I thought not. Then let’s allow them do their job without interference from Oversight. Madeline is suspicious of your motives in regards to Jamie and Claire. We cannot let them know our reasons for your observations on their two operatives.  You need to be more clandestine.  You’re getting careless Colum. I expect better. Do I make myself clear?”

He breathed a sigh of relief that his thoughts were not mentioned in regards to his visits. “My observations have been fruitful sir and you will be pleased with my summation about them.”

“You don’t have other reasons for visiting One so often do you Colum?  

However, he had spoken too soon. The inference in his leader’s tone was obvious and the cautionary message it contained was not lost on Colum about his frequent visits. However, he was sure that Mr. Lambert was totally oblivious to any other ulterior skulduggery that he’d initiated in planting a mole in his thirst for information about Letitia Chisholm.   He could not and would not elaborate on the suspicions he had about Dougal and Madeline’s actions in her disappearance. That was personal. He needed answers. Instead he replied, “Of course, Mr. Lambert.” “Good. I will hold you to your word. If you fail to adhere to my orders ...” There was a slight pause as Mr Lambert let his words sink in, “… I don’t need to elaborate as you know the consequences only too well Colum.” “Certainly. I understand completely.” “Excellent. Oh, there is one more thing. Mr Wolverton-Randall is to be transferred back to One from the substation to help Mr Claudel with communications.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

This was one piece of good news as far as Colum was concerned. He would have his mole under the noses of his nemesis Dougal and sanctioned by Mr. Lambert himself. Despite Madeline’s meeting with the Head of Centre, she was unaware that Frank Wolverton-Randall had already sent valuable Intel his way … now there was no telling what he might learn if Frank was at the heart of their modus operandi that he could use. It was a win–win for him to have inside information about Section One at his fingertips. Mr Lambert’s orders were no obstacle to his motives as far as One was concerned. He would just need to be more canny in what he was to say and do. With Frank Wolverton-Randall at the cold front of the mission profile he was in pole position to extract Intel that could help him achieve his ultimate goal despite the orders from his superior.  Having Frank at the cold face he could seek his help in locating any intel and in finding collusion between his brother Dougal and Section One’s founder and his lost love Letitia.

“That is a good plan sir, as I believe that Mr Wolverton-Randall is familiar with how One operates given his time there before. I’m sure Mr Claudel will welcome his appointment to assist him in whatever capacity.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Good … Now tell me how are things at Oversight …?”  “Of course.  As you wish Mr. Lambert.

 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ to be continued Friday 11th September

[crossdressingdeath]

I think you're totally right and opened my eyes about stans treating JC leading the Wens away from WWX as his only in chara action and building their understanding of him from that when it was pretty much the exception compared to JC usual self-centredness and disregard of what happens to others, even to people close to him, as he barely hesitated before leaving WWX to his doom alone with a gravely injured man in the Xuanwu cave but still wanted plaudits from JFM for going back to get help(1/8

but like, walking really fast (another strike against the idea that JFM exceedingly favored WWX over JC). He did that one good thing, he wanted to try being a hero like WWX but realized the terrible price to pay for it, a price WWX was ready to pay each time, realized that there are things worse than death (losing his GC) and it broke him, so he's now seething when WWX takes the courageous "single plank in the dark" choice again and again, involuntary underlining in JC head how JC tried(2/8

doing it and couldn't bear it, coming 2nd here too. This sacrifice was OOC for JC and it's the whole point!That his jealousy and absence of trust in the goodness of WWX character weakened their bond and allowed for WWX fall, that his anger and inability to let go condemned him to push away people who cared for him just as YZY did and to WWX cutting all ties, that's the point too! But no, fandom goes, JC is so so full of love, sometimes he says bad things but he can't help it the poor dear(3/8

he just needs proof that he always comes first for WWX (by letting the Wens die, I suppose, I never understood that line of reasoning tbh, too much mental gymnastics and I'm bad at sports) meanwhile the author goes and here is JC with the title Sandu Shengshou, the master of the Three Buddhist Deadly Sins of delusion, anger and greed lol Even the whole JC tirade in Guanyin is not all about the consent the fandom always harps about or regret about not taking different decisions had he known (4/8

about WWX sacrifice because he has zero regrets and I'm sure he would do everything he has done since the fall of LP the same way again, but only about WWX besting him with his courage (the hero complex part), cutting JC usual avenue of blaming all things wrong with his life on WWX (the not taking responsibility by way of the reveal part) and also removing credit from JC achievements as the GC was WWX's. Which wasn't even WWX's reasoning, he never blamed JC once in his life for anything! (5/8

WWX explains that he has hidden the truth as a further sacrifice so JC can enjoy his new golden core with peace of mind and not think that WWX bested him again or that he owes WWX (such an abusive dynamic). I also never got the puzzlement in the fandom about why in that scene JC never mentions leading the Wens away to WWX? Outside of the fact that hopefully he's growing up and learning to let go, it's mainly pride because talking about it will again paint him in a lesser light compared to(6/8

WWX who looked at him and said that of course, I'll gladly give my core to you while JC couldn't find enough meaning and love for WWX for his involuntary GC core sacrifice to be worth it. Like the single thing that set me against any reconciliation is not even the cliff scene, but exactly that moment when JC learns about the GC and proceeds not to care about all the things in addition to the GC WWX risked and lost to give him that gift and just rants about how that made him feel. It's not(7/8

even the verbal abuse, but this single moment of total absence of empathy that made me think with 100% certitude that whatever their shared past is, WWX will be better without JC in his life. My whole issue is not even with WWX sacrificing things which can be a part of love (though giving his GC is definitely born of abuse), but giving and giving in a relationship and never getting anything back, be it support or understanding, unlike the relationship WWX has now with LWJ or even WN(8/8 

I actually got the entire thing for once! It’s a miracle!

My theory for the whole thing where JC leads the Wens away from WWX and then never risks anything for him again is that... Well, JC does occasionally speak up for WWX when YZY is screaming at him, doesn’t he? And the worst he gets from that is a few harsh words. And he chases dogs away! At zero risk to himself, because the dogs aren’t dangerous, WWX just has severe cynophobia. JC is used to being able to “defend” WWX without any consequences. He’s used to being able to get WWX’s praise and gratitude and put him in JC’s debt without any actual risk to himself. Then he leads the Wens away from WWX and learns that... actually, defending WWX can have serious consequences. It could cost him everything. And he decides that WWX isn’t worth that. Now, to give him a little credit, it is possible he didn’t want to lose this last remaining member of his family... but the point still stands that once he learned that standing up for WWX could have serious consequences, he never did it again.

And yeah, he was really quick to leave WWX in the Xuanwu’s cave; maybe he told himself that he was going to get help (which he did, to be fair, even if it was almost too late), but he did cut and run almost the second WWX suggested it. Just like later, when he kicks WWX out of the Jiang sect and stabs him when WWX suggests separating him from the sect, without really arguing against it. If I had to guess, I’d say JC likes having the excuse of “Well, it’s all WWX’s fault really because it was his idea, never mind that I didn’t have to go along with it and could’ve argued or straight up refused!”

Also, I’m pretty sure JC didn’t mean to sacrifice anything for WWX when he led the Wens off. Remember that thing I said the other day about how a sect heir with an exaggerated view of his own abilities is a dead sect heir? Yeah. JC was raised by YZY to believe that he was WWX’s equal and JFM was being super unfair by heaping praise on WWX and ignoring his totally equally skilled son. I’m pretty sure he thought he was skilled enough to take care of the Wens and then come back, and given the way he completely shut down the risk of losing his golden core to WZL (who he knew was in the area!) didn’t even occur to him. And then when it came to it... he just wasn’t good enough. His cultivation and martial ability weren’t enough to beat the Wens; he might have been better off alerting WWX to the danger and giving them both a chance to run, or fight together. It wasn’t some huge sacrifice for WWX’s sake, it was a vast overestimation of his skills that led to him taking on a fight he couldn’t win instead of cutting his losses and just running with WWX. Remember also, JC wanted to go back and fight the Wens to the point that WWX’s assumption all the way through the story was that JC left him to go back to Lotus Pier. Who’s to say his “sacrifice” wasn’t just him seeing an excuse he could give himself that would allow him to fight Wens?

And... you know, I always forget that the reason WWX didn’t tell JC about the golden core transfer was so that JC wouldn’t be all upset about WWX showing him up. It was about not upsetting JC, but not because JC would feel awful about costing WWX so much. WWX, who tries so hard to see only the good in JC, thought that JC’s primary concern on learning that WWX had sacrificed his cultivation for him would be that WWX was better than him. How fucked up is that, that WWX felt he had to hide such a huge thing from his own family for years, not even just saying “Oh yeah, WZL destroyed my golden core when he captured me” or otherwise giving an explanation for why he can’t cultivate anymore, because JC would throw a tantrum about being second best if he knew? WWX had to suffer through everyone, including his family, calling him rude and arrogant for refusing to cultivate properly or carry a sword because if he told even part of the truth his brother would whine about being shown up. He couldn’t even admit to losing his golden core, because when JC lost his he shut down completely, whereas WWX invented an entirely new form of cultivation so he could keep being useful.

And I never actually considered that aspect of JC not mentioning him leading the Wens off and getting captured; if he says that now, he’ll once again be second best because he couldn’t deal with the consequences of that risk, while WWX knew full well what he was getting himself into. I’m still not sure why he didn’t say anything before, though. JC, passing up such a golden opportunity to guilt WWX into staying by his side? Strange and OOC. Maybe he decided the fall of Lotus Pier was enough, or that it wouldn’t have enough impact since WWX gave up his “chance to get something from BSSR” by allowing JC to take his place. Who knows.

JC’s reaction to learning about the sacrifice is... very much not the reaction of a man learning his beloved older brother gave up something that huge for his sake. It’s all about him, how it makes him feel, how he can’t be the best now because he was using WWX’s infinitely more powerful golden core... He does not care that WWX gave up everything for his sake. He doesn’t care that it left WWX all but defenceless in a war because JC’s happiness was more important than his own safety, or that it led to WWX being thrown into the Burial Mounds, or that he was forced to turn to creating demonic cultivation in order to survive. It doesn’t matter to JC that he spent years unknowingly pouring salt in the wound by constantly getting on WWX’s case for not carrying his sword, not training the disciples, not cultivating properly. No, it’s all about JC and how it makes him feel that there’s now no way for him to surpass the brother he never would’ve been able to surpass anyway. It’s just so incredibly selfish and self-centred, and I do not understand people who say JC’s reaction to the transfer speaks to some failing on WWX’s part. JC is angry at WWX for giving too much, but not because he didn’t ask; it’s only because JC will now spend the rest of his life in second place.

[suiciderealestate]

Midnight - June 15, 2020

What a strange time and what a wonderful thing to be alive to see it. What started as something so incredibly dark is now transforming into a cleansing fire. I’m only disappointed that I’m not in New York to be more a part of it. Still, being home has been oddly good for me. I dreaded coming back to Nashville and being inexorably bored, but that hasn’t really happened. I find lately that it has been difficult to be bored when there are so many things to be done. Even when I am doing nothing, knowing that my world is suffused with things to be done has deprived me of the possibility of boredom. To be home again with my friends and family who understand me, to be able to do work in things I enjoy or at least aspire to enjoy, all of it has allowed me to get closer to my center. And yet, I still feel that lingering sensation of missing out. It always feels like the most important things are happening somewhere else, and I’ve never quite been able to shake that. But then I suppose it’s just what goes along with being human, being this atomized lump of agency and desire in a swirling universe of invisible singularity.

Everything is so uncertain right now, but it feels like there is a reckoning. It feels like the conservative forces that have left me feeling less than human all my life are finally being seen for what they are. I admit that I have internalized some of it, that there are biases within me as a southern white male that feel contradictory sometimes. But this racial revolution is so much more than just a demand for actual freedom for black people. It is a demand that we all be seen as human beings, that we are all treated with the dignity and respect owed to everyone. Sure, “All Lives Matter” may be another tone-deaf rightwing trope, but I think it’s the real meaning in “Black Lives Matter.” We are fighting for equality for black people now because we are fighting for equality for us all, and we must start with those who are most vulnerable. Yesterday in New York City there was a peaceful demonstration of solidarity with black trans women, who have proven to be one of the most vulnerable populations in our country. Around 15,000 people were there. All of my friends in New York were there. It feels like something good may yet come of all of this.

When Donald Trump was elected, I remember being vaguely disappointed but slightly amused. I never wanted Trump to win, but the fact that he did win meant something big was going to happening, and I hoped it would be the destruction of the Republican Party as we know it. I still hope for that. His entire presidency was like a game of chicken. Something big would happen and you’d think he would finally be held accountable, and then he wouldn’t be. Against all odds, he won the presidency against Hillary Clinton, even after the “grab ‘em by the pussy” comment and all the nasty, incendiary behavior that kept him and his rallies in the headlines. I mean it was really such a catastrophic political upset that you just knew the wheels of history were about to go into overdrive. Trump survived all the damning books written about him. Trump survived impeachment. Things even began to assume a sense of eerie normalcy for a moment, the feeling that a Trump presidency was a one-way train and that there would be no going back for our country.

When the pandemic landed in the U.S., it just felt like the disastrous culmination we all knew was coming. We floated through Trump’s term with much political turmoil but much less unrest than I would have anticipated. Sure, the news headlines were never-ending until things that were once surprising became mundane, but we didn’t have a 9/11 or a new war, which is the thing I was the most afraid of. No nuclear disaster. No economic collapse. Just a lot of quiet social regression and the unavoidable feeling that now more than ever we are a nation divided. When the pandemic came, that’s when it really happened though. That’s when we knew why a president like Trump is so dangerous, and it’s because he just lives in his own world, the same way that many of us do, but in a way that the president of the United States cannot afford to do. It was a loss for diplomacy. It was a loss for the sanctity and decorum of the office. It was a loss for our national pride, or at least half of the country’s national pride.

When the virus hit I was so afraid. I felt like things really were just going to fall apart. Trump didn’t care about the virus. His response strategy was and still is, effectively, to ignore it, to refuse to wear a mask, to project not strength but the delusion of invincibility. He was so confident the virus would go away, it was almost like he knew something about it that we didn’t. Cases are spiking in Tennessee and several other states where people just don’t care about safety, but it’s mostly poor people of color that are being affected. A factory of minorities falls ill in a factory outbreak and it’s business as usual. Nursing homes all over the country become easy bake morgues and it’s business as usual. And to be quite honest, that kind of apathy easily rubs off.

As the rallies and demonstrations protesting the routine racial violence began to grow and spread like wildfire all over the country, we began to experience a kind of political paradox. The Trumpers are following their messiah’s lead by ignoring the virus, celebrating national holidays en masse, grilling out and thronging together in celebration of summer. At first the liberals criticized the behavior, but now even people on the left seem comfortable to travel in crowds during protests, as long as they wear a mask. To them, that seems to be the distinctive difference, but not every protestor I’ve seen has worn a mask. Neither side agrees with the reason the other side is going outside, and yet are all going outside. When I got home, my friend and I were spraying the ATM with disinfectant. Every trip to the grocer store felt like a dangerous foray into enemy territory. The news coverage of the destruction being caused by the pandemic was constant, and the reports, voices and opinions of the reporters and pundits were always in the back of my mind. Everyone on Instagram was urging people to stay indoors. Proper quarantine etiquette became an online rhetorical trend. But when the riots started and the political fabric of our populous seemed to be ripping apart, the headlines shifted and the attention shifted away with them. Right now in Nashville there are more cases of the virus than there have ever been, and it only promises to keep getting worse. I think it was just yesterday that I saw a picture of a girl’s lung infected by coronavirus that had been taken out during a transplant. It looked like a piece of rotting corned beef covered in pus. The lung belonged to a girl supposedly with no history of smoking.  And yet I am strangely at peace. Still, it’s the same kind of peace I felt when Mary Jane’s car got t-boned and was spinning out of control. I thought I was about to die, and in that moment I was prepared to die. But I didn’t. I can’t help but wonder if this newfound tranquility is just a false sense of security, or anticipation of an inevitable sort of death. All I can really do is hope that fate will smile upon me, and if it doesn’t then I just hope to have the strength to let go of whatever tragedy comes. We are all ready to get back to our lives. We are all ready to return to a world in which this pandemic didn’t exist, but wishful thinking isn’t enough to make this chaos go away. Here we are, a nation on the edge, and we are embroiled in perhaps the most controversial presidency in American history, a deadly global pandemic, and now a revolution. When George Floyd died I was numb.

But it wasn’t because of people like me that the world is changing. To be honest, I am well aware of my complicity in a system that has more or less afforded me a great deal of comfort. Within the context of everything happening, watching black people lose their lives for no reason over and over again to the officers who are sworn to protect us all reminds me that circumstance has not been entirely cruel to me. I am thankful that something is happening. I am thankful that the protests are ongoing. I am thankful that finally our country is being forced to stand still, that the wheels of capitalism are slowing down for just a moment, so that we can evaluate who we actually are, to make necessary changes, and to proceed forward to a higher consciousness of freedom. But I know that there is a greater battle ahead of us. The opposition is rallying its forces, and though I am confident that the worst elements of our nation are their own kind of minority that can be overcome, I know it will not be without a fight.

History is happening every day, and I want to be there to document it. I want to be there to take part in it. If I am going to continue my life as a voyeur then I want to be an active voyeur. I want to tell stories that will result in meaningful change. But these are dangerous times, and I don’t only risk my own life when I attend the demonstrations. Living with my parents has given me a needed sense of comfort, but I know that being here and continuing to live my life more or less is putting them in danger, and if I wasn’t here they wouldn’t be in danger. It would be nice to stay in Nashville for awhile and save some money, to spend some time with my friends and reacquaint myself with the city I was born in as I head out of my youth and into my 30s. I don’t feel as old as I am. At twenty-nine I still feel a lot like a kid. I’ve often said that I got stuck in the mind of a 19-year-old when I did acid on Halloween in 2010. That night has remained the most impactful night of my life, and yet I have always been at a loss regarding what to do with the experience I had. I want to begin my life as an adult, to continue or at least approach with more vigor the essence of what will be my life’s work. I’ve been searching for it, and to be honest I just don’t know if I’ve found what it is.

I’ve become mostly accustomed to a life in which my major depression has left me unmotivated by most everything. I’ve been looking for that motivation everywhere. I searched for it in Kansas. I looked high and low for it in New York. I expected that New York would give me everything I needed to find that buoy of inspiration we assume every great artist has, but if anything New York just confronted me with the hard realities of our vapid, money-driven world. But as everything is dismantled and falls apart, I’ve become more hopeful than ever for a better future for all of us. We might not be able to fix the money-driven part of things just yet, but I really do believe we are taking steps in the right direction toward building a more free world. If this is just the calm before the storm, then let chaos reign. 

[writing-for-life]

Dream’s Therapist

Insomnia

I have prepared for the session by pulling up the notes from the intake.

The client is very punctual again, albeit only 15 minutes early this time. I have made sure that my office is not too bright since this seemed to have caused a certain amount of discomfort during our intake session.

Like the previous time, he will not take off his coat, and he does not engage in friendly smalltalk at the beginning of the session. My remark about the terrible weather brings up, “You have no idea what terrible weather is,” or some such like, and I begin the session without further ado.

DT: I would like to start today’s session with examining your current sleeping habits, since you hinted you were suffering from insomnia during your intake.

Dream: Sleep eludes me. But truth be told, I do not have any need for sleep. I inspire, and I have dreams and nightmares to create.

DT: And why do you think that is?

Dream (I notice a certain annoyance in the way he leans forward in his chair): It is my purpose and my function. And I am quite certain I told you this the last time. (I notice the wish to be perceived). As I have already pointed out: I weave dreams and stories. But lately, I have been feeling... uninspired.

DT: Uninspired? Are you feeling particularly stressed?

(I notice he is still rather enamoured with the paperweight on my desk. He proceeds staring at it without replying).

Would you like to hold it?

Dream (I notice his eyes dart towards me, and he looks at me for a moment with rather wet eyes): May I?

DT: Sure.

(I notice the way he picks up the paperweight and then holds on to it not unlike a pre-schooler would engage with a stuffed animal. I decide to carefully explore childhood nighttime memories)

DT: Tell me about your childhood. Did you have a teddy when you were little, or a favourite stuffy that you took to bed at nighttime?

Dream (deadpan): I am the anthropomorphic personification of dreams and nightmares. Stuffies are beneath my notice. (I might have hit a sore spot since he puts the paperweight back on the desk rather unceremoniously)

DT: Have you always believed you are a cosmic entity?

Dream (I notice the way he sharply exhales through his nose): I do not believe I am a cosmic entity. I am Dream of the Endless. I walk the realms of imagination and story, and I conjure dreams and nightmares. How often will I need to repeat myself?

DT (I notice the wish to be perceived again): I am aware of your beliefs. Do you think that all of these… responsibilities are a bit much and might be the cause of your lack of sleep? And before we go any deeper, let me quickly check in: Have you tried the usual, like counting sheep or a warm glass of milk?

Dream (I notice a degree of exasperation): It is usually I who sends sheep to dreamers, even to the ones who would rather opt to count lost socks, and milk is for mortal stomachs. Strictly speaking, your kind shouldn’t even drink cow’s milk, but not to get too involved in human delectations. That is to say (he leans forward in his chair again and gives me a piercing stare): I exist beyond such trivialities.

(The delusion seems to run deeper than I imagined, but I decide to stay on the topic of insomnia for today’s session. A better sleep schedule certainly won’t do any harm and will aid in tackling the deeper issues.)

DT: During our last session, you briefly mentioned that you have commitment issues (I notice he looks at the paperweight again). Take it, please.

(I notice his eyes turn wet once more, and I will need to get to the bottom of why a paperweight made of rose quartz creates such a strong reaction in him, but not right now. He takes the paperweight and this time, he lets it disappear in his coat pocket. I decide to ignore the attempted theft for now).

Is it possible that your problems with commitment extend to other areas of your life? Like committing to a sleep schedule?

Dream (I notice a degree of confusion that seems to morph into annoyance): I assure you, I am extremely committed to my realm. I do not shirk my responsibilities and adhere to… rules meticulously.

DT: I don’t doubt it. Do you avoid the bed?

Dream (He straightens in his chair and looks me dead in the eye. I notice his pupils have dilated considerably, which suggests sympathetic innervation/a surge of adrenaline): No. However, I do not peruse it to… sleep. (I notice he is not sitting still as a statue anymore. His legs are crossed, and his supporting leg is engaged in a tapping motion originating in his foot)

DT (I try not to linger on the uncomfortable silence that is only interrupted by the slight squeaking of the sole of his boot and the accompanying tapping): Did you ever try a bedtime routine that is more to your liking than counting sheep? Warm bath? Reading? Chamomile tea?

Dream (I notice teeth grinding): Chamomile tea tastes like mortal tears.

DT: And smells like urine, not keen myself (I notice a fleeting facial expression I cannot quite place. His mouth twitches). Are you open to suggestions?

Dream (I notice slight hesitation, and I decide to shrug my shoulders and smile. Daring move. He furrows his brow): You may… suggest.

DT: I think journaling might be helpful for a while to see what keeps you from sleeping. Write down whatever comes to mind, from what you have experienced during the day to what you’ve eaten.

Dream: I do not eat.

DT: You do not?

Dream: Well, sometimes I do, but… (He seems to contemplate something for a moment). No matter, I shall… write.

DT (I sense a basic degree of cooperation, which is a start): All day, but especially around bedtime. We can use it the next time and see if we spot any patterns. It might also be helpful with the topic of emotion processing.

Dream (I note he engages in his habitual nose-bridge-pinching, and he closes his eyes. I am fairly certain he is also rolling them behind closed lids, and I wonder if his cooperation has just disappeared into thin air): I already told you I do not “feel”. It is a…

DT: Quaint human invention? Like love?

Dream (I notice his eyes open at alarming speed. He looks annoyed for a moment. He then quirks one eyebrow): You have paid attention to my words after all.

DT: Did you expect me not to?

Dream (I notice uncertainty): Perhaps.

DT: Then why are you here?

Dream (I notice a facial expression that hints at confusion): I… because I respect your… delusional expertise.

DT (I am not certain if that is a compliment or an insult and decide to pay no heed): That does not answer the question though, or at least not in its entirety. Because this is not about my expertise, is it?

Dream (He leans forward in his seat): What is it about then?

DT (I notice he is trying to engage in subversion tactics): You.

Dream (I notice he flinches and immediately leans back again. His eyes are wet, and he does not speak. I decide to give the silence space.

The silence lasts for 12 minutes. One needs to be able to sit with the discomfort on occasion.

He stands up all of a sudden): I trust our time is up?

DT: No.

Dream: Good, I shall leave then.

DT (I notice the same pattern to end the session as the last time. He begins to walk out): Are you going to keep that?

Dream (He turns around): Keep what?

DT: My paperweight.

Dream (I notice he looks flustered and reaches into his coat pocket.): My apologies. (He hesitantly comes back and places the paperweight back on my desk.)

DT: No harm done, we all forget things from time to time.

Dream (I notice he lifts his chin and seems affronted): I do not forget things. Ever.

DT: Well, you just did.

Dream: I… (I notice he blinks thrice in quick succession) Same time next week?

DT (I notice the reversed initiative compared to our last session and choose to reply accordingly): Yes, let us pencil it in.

Dream: You may use ink…

< Previous Session

> Next Session

[beautyofendlessforms]

Ramble about the current mess in brazillian politics, evangelical take over and the crazy flat-earthers...

To begin with, I don’t think most people in charge believe flat earth and other such nonsense ideas, they are just manipulating the population. Perhaps some of them like Damares Alves are truly faithful to their beliefs, but most of them don’t care about it at all, they’re just going in that direction as that benefits them immensely.

The fact is that Bolsonaro owes a lot the evangelical community and mainly the pastors who campaigned for him, such as Silas Malafaia and Edir Macedo, so he’s allied and attuned his discourse, now its time to satisfy their whims. Whats better than putting someone like Damares there, who is an artifact from the middle ages and a highly controversial figure which does two things at the same time:

She satisfy evangelicals and caters to their interests

She also serves as a smokescreen as her shocking ideas keeps us busy

While we’re busy and shocked by her medieval declarations, the Bolso government can advance on the matters of true importance such as selling the entire state and enslaving the population by taking away their rights one by one. Soon there will be nothing left while we’re worried by those declarations, which are horrifying nonetheless but I don’t thing these are the true goal of the new system.

All is about money and control, so if the evangelical narrative serves it well, they adopted it. That’s why people like me have been warning others about the dangers of this new theology of prosperity which took over, because:

Those who can make you believe absurdities, can make you commit atrocities.— Voltaire

In fact, evangelicals have been rising to positions of power in the last few decades and their population had increased immensely, while the catholic population is dying out as we speak.

Evangelicals have been successfully integrated in br politics a long time ago and they managed to form a political block called the Evangelic congressional bloc which has started roughly in 2002 elections and has grown expressively both in size and influence since them.

Catholics were once in power and had great influence, as my grandparents told me how the population used to look up and ask the priest what politics to vote for, etc.. but this has largely fallen out of fashion and the catholic population became increasingly secular, and usually more tame as they rarely take the bible as law nowadays (at least for what I know of).

While these people are in decline, the evangelical movements have attracted more and more people and they have fundamentalist facets, they mostly follow the doctrine of prosperity so this ideology served perfectly in the new ultra-capitalist paradigm.

This all brought a change in the scenario and prepared the population for what is happening right now, this wasn’t a sudden change. The traps were already settled and the population was becoming increasingly fundamentalist in the past few years and I started noticing it clearly on my own life as they started demeaning more and more power and control over laws, schools, etc..

So, imo even if most people in this new government never wanted a religious take over, personally, they owe these people. This is coming one way or another.

The fact that brazil has become a right wing ultra capitalist country is not what worries me the most, its the way they glued those ideals to conservative morals and that worked to well… exactly because it goes very well with the predominant ideology I mentioned (prosperity theology), it just works wonders.

The fact that this is all happening reflects the nature of brazillian population and its ignorance, also this place has historically a very bad educational system which affected the capacity of decision and rational thinking of the population. The groundwork was mostly done by an insufficient educational system and pastors in the last decade have absorbed most of the population under the wings.

However not only evangelicals have been following these ideas, and recently a nice portion of the catholics have joined in this holy crusade, and they openly say science is not necessary, they laugh at intellectuality.

This haunts me every single minute of my life.

This kind of thinking is dragging us to all the problems we have right now but especially the denial of global warming among other problems.

All of those ideas had some root planted here but now they are mainstream and even criticizing them leads to stares and questions. This wouldn’t be possible if the groundwork wasn’t there already. If these ideas had no acceptance in the population they wouldn’t be used as bait like now, the population has to be extremely ignorant and deeply problematic for something like this to word. I doubt such thing would happen somewhere else or on a country which has a good basis of education.

This is why whats happening here is so much more scary than what is going in most right wing governments, its resembling more a theocratic new order. Its not fair to compare what happened here to Trump imo, while there are certainly similarities, this movement took us to a direction which has far darker implications. We are literally tearing apart all that happened in the last century and reversing back to a colonial state, both on the way the state is functioning but also on mindset.

I used to say we were turning back to the dictatorship era (1964) but now you can clearly see facets of far older eras, some say we’re close now to 1930′s but I see the way the clergy and fear of science is taking over reminiscent of the pre-Renascence era. The major proof of this is that we’re right now undermining the very basis of the age of reason, all that scientists and philosophers and thinkers in general have worked so hard to achieve, to free us from ignorance, its all being treated like shit and undermined.

Enlightenment values are being attacked from all sides.

The foundation of modern values is being systematically undermined in a way that no one takes it seriously anymore, womens issues are moaning, racism doesn’t exist, science and arts need surveillance under the clergy,

They did this successfully with undermining human rights, them they proceed to attack the basis of the law/rights system and now they attacking even science and empiricism and I wonder what will be left after that…

“This Brazil, stitched from a patchwork of dogmas, might be a fascinating topic of study if it didn’t put the whole planet at risk. Ideological discourse serves to instil the notion of destiny and to ensure cohesion within a population frightened about everything it might lose, from salaries and jobs to symbolic positions in the realms of race, gender, and sexual orientation. When Bolsonaro says he’s going to “free Brazil from political correctness”, he’s pledging to break both the “chains” that force people to respect minorities and those that curtail devastation of the Amazon forest…..

Without the world’s biggest tropical forest, there is no way to control global warming. If Bolsonaro’s messianic capitalism is not stopped, life on this planet will be much worse for everyone. For a contingent of neo-Pentecostal evangelicals, this may be welcomed as an apocalypse preceding the final salvation of “true believers”. For most of humanity, it will bring nothing but horror and suffering – perpetuated by the stupidity of a species with delusions of grandeur. “

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2019/jan/10/jair-bolsonaro-brazil-minorities-rainforest

This is one of the best texts I recently found which sums up the feeling. The feeling that we are being dragged to the mud by other people’s beliefs, its horrifying. I don’t want to be part of this new future.

The summed up version is: I don’t think the governments goal is flat earth and taking Darwin out of schools, its actually something related to the resources found there. They don’t give a damn about the whole evangelical narrative, but since it this goes well with their plans, why not?

However we have some very good texts pointing to the opposite, that this was all planned.. such as:

“What he calls Communism are values such as human rights, the importance of science, or freedom of speech. Bolsonaro’s fight is not against marxist thought; it is against Enlightenment values.

One of the main arenas where the fight against takes place is academia and schools, where Bolsonarista thought hopes to replace the current curriculum with a far-right approved version. Under the pretense of impartiality, Bolsonaro’s followers are trying to police students and professors. Through a campaign of paranoia, everything can become subversive or biased. Calls for more racial justice in a deeply racist country become “moaning” and “an attempt to divide the nation”. History lessons on the dictatorship become “leftist brainwashing”. Sex education and anti-homophobic bullying lectures should be banned from classrooms, as being in contact with such themes might give students strange ideas.

Scientific evidence on global warming is classified as globalist dogma.The main problem for Brazil is that Bolsonaro has every chance of winning this battle. The average Brazilian person does not read more than one book a year; they believe WhatsApp chains to be as truthful as newspapers, and the public school education is at a constant crisis. Brazilians have no regard for their history, and they were deliberately kept ignorant for years.”

https://www.newstatesman.com/world/2018/11/brazil-bolsonaro-s-fight-not-against-marxism-against-enlightenment-values

TL;DR: This is all a backstage so the true plan can unfold:

Either way we’re damned. I see a clear picture forming in the horizon and its not something I want to be a part of.

[rosesmith18]

(PnF) Headcanon #7 Thomarie Nitpicks #1 Bridgette

The next couple of post will be centered around some critics I have with both the ship Thomarie as a whole as well as the characters evolved in it, and their general world. For those who don't know the ship Thomarie is centered around (OC)Maria Flynn & (OC)Thomas Fletcher. I will mention this again at the end of the post, but more about the canonical versions of these characters can be found on angelus19 & sam-ely-ember deviantart(Thomas Belongs to Melty64). If you can not tell I will not be working with a lot of the canon information about these characters as I'm not really in to it-as I will explain with the next couple post-but the fact remains I did not create these characters. Critic #1: Bridgette(Bridgette belongs to Orthgirl123 on DeviantArt) Okay, it's best to start with the longest post as to get it out of the way. I HATE Bridgette as written in the MnT(Marie & Thomas) Universe. I'm sorry if that sounds harsh, and I am not trying to bash the character herself. I am talking completely in the context of her role in MnT. She is written as nothing, but a generic secondary love interest from a bad teen romcom. I read the post her creator made about her, and it gives the character a lot of potential that is never used. The rundown is that Bridgette's dad went MIA(Missing in Action) when she was around nine or something, so her mom remarries meaning Bridgette has a step-dad & new brother. Bridgette says in that post that she had a good life with nothing to complain about, yet she goes on about how she hides her 'real self' out of fear, and ends up coming off as a jerk to everyone around her. Again I do not hate the character, she has potential, but not in the way her creator tries to portray. Because I hate to break it to you, but girl if you come off as a massive jerk, you're not pretending, you are one. Like look, I get we all can be jerks by accident sometimes, but that doesn't mean you weren't a jerk, and the people you were a jerk to have the right to miffed about it. See what Bridgette has is a classic case of 'Victims Complex', she believes she has a right to act this way towards people, because she was hurt once. She wants the people around her to feel bad for her, and thinks her hurt garners her the right to be excused of her mistakes, when everyone else gets punished. So, do I feel bad for Bridgette? No. As a victim myself I can't feel bad for someone who uses their status as a victim to exploit the kindness and understanding of other people just so they can get away with not returning that kindness by being a massive jerk. Does this make her a bad character? Not at all. I think this type of personality has great potential, but it needs to be recognized for what it is first instead of sugar coating it to make a bland 'relatable' character. Which brings me back to the problem with her in MnT. In MnT Bridgette is portrayed as a a jerk whose actually really kind on the inside, and when Thomas accidentally sees that kindness, he accepts her invitation to go on a date. There she tells him her 'sad' backstory to garner sympathy from Thomas which works, and they become closer cause he's also a 'jerk' at times due to his past. By the end, Thomas chooses Marie over Bridgete causing the girl to go into a fit about how nothing in life goes her way, and Thomas comforting her with kind words. This, all of this, is BULLCRAP! Let's break this down one by one. First problem, being nice to ONE person does not excuse being mean to HUNDREDS on a daily bases. Secondly, no one goes out with the biggest jerk at their high school just cause they learned the person has the ability to be the bare minimum of a decent human being. Thirdly, using your sad backstory to garner sympathy when you know you've been a massive jerk is manipulative, and funny enough usually garners the exact opposite in real life. I've never met a nice guy whose tried to do that, and didn't instantly get blocked. Fourthly, Thomas' rude behavior is nothing to Bridgette's, they're incomparable, but I will compare them anyway. Thomas occasionally ignores people when they're talking to him, and on one or two occasions has given someone the finger. Bridgete started rumors about multiple people at her school(including Marie) that caused these kids to be taunted mercilessly by their classmates until they refused to come to school again. Yes, Thomas did try to turn the citizens of Danville into a mob of criminals that attacked each other(See the fanfic Monster on angelus19  deviantart. Warning it is only in Spanish), but he was nine, had been hit by a Emotion Enhancer(Look up the definition of enhance), and had been disappointed by his dad and annoyed by Marie all in the span of like half an hour. I think he gets a pass. Fifthly, the idea that Bridgete should be instantly forgiven after have a tantrum over losing to a girl she started horrible rumors about. And lastly, the idea that THOMAS of all people forgave her. I mean look I know in the canon Thomas is like just a brooding emo, but this boy tried to turn his own father into a criminal in Monster, and yet he harbors goodwill towards a random bully who started rumors about his crush? With that out of the way, let us proceed to the revision paragraph for this critic. How do we improve this character and story? Well, are goal is to make Bridgette if anything a realistic character which means she must have her own goals that make sense in the context of her past and personality. Those goals can be outlandish, but she should have some realistic ones on occasion. She should be bound to the rules of reality as well as her own society. Her actions must always have consequences of equal measure whether her actions are good or bad. She must be the norm not the exception, and those around her should not differ from their established character, merely on the basis that she exist. In summary, we don't want Bridgete to be special, because no one in life is special. Even Marie & Thomas shouldn't be special(more about this critic later). Yes, these characters should all be different, but the universe shouldn't show favoritism, because that means the creator shows favoritism which is not relatable. The creators of Phineas & Ferb are a great example of making the main characters unique, but not special in comparison to those around them. Every character has a talent, interest, goal, and even flaw unique to them. And, the only time someone is seen as above reality-the rule of equal consequence-is by other characters who don't understand the whole story. This makes even simple one or two off characters memorable for all the right reasons(ex. Any of Doofs ex-girlfriends.) Bridgette is not memorable, because she's a good character, she memorable because she's put above the other characters whenever she's around. In all my reading experiences with Bridgete I've never felt like I choose to focus on her because I really liked or related to her, I instead always felt like she was forced into my focus every other line of dialogue. I don't want to hate Bridgette, if I wanted to hate Bridgette I wouldn't be writing an entire critic about how she has WASTED potential. I would just rant about how she has NO potential. Alright, we've made it to the advice portion of the critic a.k.a the last paragraph of this post. In this paragraph I'm going to share the changes I've made to Bridgette in my own stories in a summarized manner. I will explain why I made these changes and the benefits they have on the character and story. Firstly, I changed the reason for Bridgette's interest in Thomas. In the story 'Who I Really Am' by Orthgirl123 on DeviantArt she writes that Bridgette didn't like Thomas originally, but just kinda started to like him. This is not only boring, but also makes no sense. She just...starts liking him? That's kinda not how people work. So, instead I came up with the idea that Thomas & Maria built something in class that backfired resulting in Bridgette breaking her arm. This leads to Thomas & Maria having to help Bridgete until her arm heals. Because of Bridgette's status as a bully not many people like her and no one is nice to her, so Thomas' kindness mixed with Bridgette's insecurities about her dad being gone result in what most would call 'Daddy Issues'. This change does many things, for starters it establishes a reason for Bridgette's feelings that make sense in the context of her character, secondly it establishes Bridgette delusional mental state. Bridgette being established as delusional is important for her arc. You see if we establish that Bridgette is oblivious to the plights of others, blinded by her own pain making her unable to see the error of her ways, we allow her to be cornered. Instead of being able to say she did a bad thing and just apologize for it which is unsatisfying when your someone who bullied a girl into basically a depressed state. Bridgette will be confronted leading to the breaking of her delusions. This will allow Bridgette to be blinded by confusion as well as denial for a short period before she spills her guts about what she did out of the new found unbearable guilt. Her broken delusional state allows Bridgette's subconscious to eat away at her in a way no punishment could. This character arc becomes even better when we tie to loose threads together. In the MnT canon universe Maria's school stalker takes her depressed state as an opportunity to make his stalking known to her hoping she will be desperate enough to accept his feelings. But, in my personal headcanon Bridgette is the one who tells the school stalker about the situation and encourages him to pursue Maria. This may sound extreme at first, but remember that Bridgette's horrible behavior is usually a fleeting comment. Even Maria hides her pain when baring with the insults Bridgette's rumors have incited others to sling Maria's way. These facts make it difficult for the readers to comprehend the pain Bridgette is really inflicting on these people to the extent at which they truly exist by making them seem unreal or a drifting matter with little effect. This portrayal of the effect Bridgette has on people also makes it more difficult for Bridgette herself to comprehend what she's truly doing to people. To Bridgette they are just words-that as a bully-she has had to endure plenty of times. She doesn't sympathize with or even pity the people she hurts, because they feel detached from her life-like her comments, a fleeting name on the wind. So, if we have Bridgette do something that has such a massive effect, like enticing a stalker to harass someone, we turn that fleeting name into a news story. We don't just make Maria a girl Bridgette started a hurtful rumor about, we make Maria a name on her tv, just like Bridgette's father. We don't just make Bridgette a bully who said horrible things about people, we make Bridgette a suspect in an assault and harassment case. We put faces to names and bring the consequences outside the school bubble that protected Bridgette for so long. But, what really breaks Bridgette's delusions is Thomas. In MnT canon Thomas learns Bridgette can be a decent human being, tries to make her a replacement for Maria, and watches Bridgette scream about never being good enough, and feels pity for her, forgiving her for making Maria(and others)depressed. In my headcanon, Thomas finds himself harassed by Bridgette after her arm heals. She never stops trying to coerce a date out of him which Thomas is both not used to, and does not appreciate. She learns of Thomas' feelings for Maria, and tells him she is better then Maria so he should pick her, but Thomas only responds that if she is aware of his feeling she should give up before she hurts herself, he won't play games with her. And, when Thomas learns that Bridgette is the reason the stalker pursued Maria he does not let Bridgette throw a tantrum then forgive her. He makes it known she's crossed a line, and if she doesn't find herself back on it, she'll be the one at the tail end of his gun, not that stalker. In this scene Thomas breaks Bridgette's delusions by making it clear that he is not someone to be fond over and obtained. He and Maria are people with lives outside of playing the school hierarchy game Bridgette has concocted in all her years of turning the school into her consequence free paradise. He puts his foot down, something no one has ever done to Bridgette, and teaches her that their are worse things than petty popularity contest outside those school walls. And, if she doesn't sort herself out she's gonna step on the wrong peoples shoes. These warns strike a fear in Bridgette she's never felt before, but also slams her into denial. Thomas leaves her to think about what she did, and when a day or two passes of Thomas completely ignoring her. She lets out her confused emotions on Maria right before the school play when the two girls are alone. This is were her abandonment issues from the fanfic that I haven't mentioned come into play. It's Bridgette being ignored by the one guy she believed could replace her dad that triggers her fear of abandonment leading to her breaking down in front of Maria. She leaves the play before Maria can say anything, but the two meet a week into the new summer, and Maria confronts Bridgette. In the MnT canon Bridgette has her outburst in front of Maria & Thomas before being forgiven and giving up peaceful, for some reason happy with herself despite learning nothing as she's faced only the miniscule consequence of not getting the guy she likes and having to settle for Maria's cousin Xavier. In my headcanon, Maria is the one who confronts Bridgette who is still hurting from what happened with Thomas. Maria takes Bridgette and Thomas somewhere they can talk despite Thomas' disinterest in the idea. There Maria makes it clear what Bridgette did-both the rumor and stalker-were beyond horrible, but she can see Bridgette is also hurting. At this point Maria & Thomas are together, and Maria tells Bridgette that she will try to forgive Bridgette, if Bridgette promises to admit to spreading rumors about people, and apologizes to her victims directly. Bridgette accepts hesitantly and is helped by Maria to make a change. The two eventually develop a friendship after Bridgette starts getting therapy again, and Thomas does eventually stop ignoring Bridgette. In my headcanon, Xavier never had feelings for Bridgette. Because, yes Bridgette is a redeemable character, but not enough that I or anyone should want to see her related to Maria. In summary, these are my thoughts on the character Bridgette and the general storyline she is involved in. If I ever post a complete story about this exact topic I will let you know. I want to make it clear I do not harbor any ill-will towards the creator of Bridgette or the creators of Maria & Thomas. I just don't enjoy their story telling or how they portray these characters on most occasions. If you yourself have any thoughts on my changes or have an idea of a change you would add, let me know. If you want to read or see any art involving these character's check out their respective creators DeviantArt. More post about critics for the MnT Universe will be coming out soon. *Disclaimer: While I have made changes ranging from small tweaks to drastic alterations to many of the pre-existing characters on this post, I remind you that I DO NOT own any of the characters. Though I also remind you that I have made changes to these characters as to fit my own personnel headcanons or stories. So, do not assume that they follow the same timeline or share the same basic information.

[ellanainthetardis]

Your detailed answer about Hayffie having sex in Thirteen got me. Can I prompt something where they discuss it and decide to fuck the risks. Sorry for this bad pun. ;)

The detailed answerwas probably about how in my hc contraception isn’t allowed in 13 due to theirfertility problems and hayffie’s subsequent incapacity to stick to abstinenceand discussing their options ;) [X]

Fuck The Risks

Effie was avoiding him.

It wasn’t a puzzle he really had time to solve,not with Katniss to coach into being the Mockingjay and the war ragingthroughout Panem. He figured she was angry. About him lying to her. About himhaving her kidnapped and brought to Thirteen without having asked first. Abouthim failing to rescue some of their kids. About the way he had chosen to dothings. About… A lot of things she was probably right to be angry with himover.

She was cordial and professional when theyneeded to work on Katniss’ propos or stuff like that and she didn’t go out ofher way not to be alone with him – they had shared a few quick lunches,breakfasts or dinners – but she never sought him out in his room and she nevertook him up of his half-hearted suggestions that they could explore storagecupboards around the District. Once or twice, when they had been working alonein Plutarch’s office or in the shooting studio, he had ventured a caress on hercheek or neck… Only for it to be brushed off or ignored.

She was avoiding him.

And it bothered him.

The weeks he had spent in a cell, riding offthe withdrawal effects, had been hell. Andhe was aware he didn’t look exactly his best as a consequence. But he needed her. He needed her badly. He couldn’t have liquor, he wasforbidden from carrying his knife around… She was the only derivative he hadleft.

And, sure,he could have found someone else – there were plenty of refugee women wholooked interested lately – but he didn’twant anyone else.

She was the only one for him.

How screwed up as it was and how panicky as itmade him feel.

He had thought she would get over it, at first.He had thought that if he allowed her some space, she would eventually decideshe was done sulking and approach him because that was how they worked. He hadthought she would wake up one day and realize that their usual habit ofresolving arguments by fucking eachother brainless was a much better option than spending nights apart in coldnarrow beds.

Clearly, he had been wrong.

Which was why he was standing in front of herdoor in the dead of night, awkwardly shuffling his weight from one foot to theother, not quite sure how to proceed. His usual approach would have been tostorm in, kiss her silent and have his way with her but, somehow, he sensed itwouldn’t go down well.

This was serious.

The kind of serious that might finally break them – because, let’s faceit, he had done plenty of stuff that had infuriated her over the years but therebellion took the cake.

A part of him was desperate to pretend that hedidn’t care, that Effie was just an easy way to get sex that didn’t involvework or his right hand… Another part of him, the lucid part that didn’t likeself-delusion, had realized that it was a tad more complicated than that andthat he really, really didn’t want tolose her.

Aware that he couldn’t wait in the corridorforever, he knocked on the door with a wince – because knocking on her door, wasthat what he was reduced to?

He didn’t know what sort of strings Plutarchhad pulled to delay her getting a roommate when they  were forced to share a compartmentbut he was grateful for it. He wouldn’t have liked doing any of that in frontof a curious audience.

It took her a long time to get to the door and,for a moment, he listened to the noise inside and let his imagination run wild.Maybe she had someone else in there. Maybe she had found a replacement for himalready. He wouldn’t have been surprised. She liked her sex and…

“Haymitch?” she frowned, when the door was slidopen a crack. She was partially hiding behind it but he caught a flash of skin.She didn’t have pants on. “Is there a problem?”

“Fuck,yeah, there’s a problem.” he snarled, forcing his way through the door. Hishands had clenched into fists and he was eager to punch whoever she had inthere, whoever had taken liberties with his…Whatever. Her compartment was empty.His eyes darted to the closed bathroom door. “Is he hiding in there?” hesneered. “Or is it a she?”

He was ready to punch the person either way.

“What inPanem are you talking about?” she hissed, clearly irritated by his tone.

She locked the door shut and turned around toface him and he finally got his first good look at her. Standard grey tank top,faded grey panties that were frayed on one side and thick woolen socks pulledup as high as they would go. Her hair had been loosely braided for the nightand strands were poking out. Not sexy but… adorable.

As soon as the word floated into his head, hehad to fight not to groan.

He was soscrewed.

“I’m talking about your new fuck buddy.” hegrowled. “The one I’m gonna beat to a pulp.”

She blinked twice, then folded her arms infront of her chest. It was hard not to notice her nipples were peaking from thecold.

“Again I feel compel to ask… What in Panem are you talking about?” sherepeated.

“Look.” he said firmly, taking a step closer toher. “You’re mad. I get it.”

“I am notmad. Why would I be mad?” she denied,sounding confused. She tilted her head suddenly, lips pursed and narrowed eyes.“What did you do, now, that I shouldbe mad about?”

He faltered.

She sounded honest. It wasn’t her I’m-pretending-not-to-know-what-you’re-talking-about-just-to-annoy-you-furtherface… She looked genuinely puzzled.

“You’ve got no new fuck buddy?” he asked, a bitlost himself now.

“Of course not!”she scoffed. “Who do you take me for? We…” She abruptly fell silent and clearedher throat. “You are perfectly awareI have not been seeing anyone but you for a while now. Not that we are exclusivebut…”

“Yeah.” he cut in before she could say anymore. “Yeah, we are, okay? We are. Don’t go and fuck anyone else.”

She studied him for a while and then snorted.“Or you will beat them to a pulp?”

“Exactly.” he nodded with relief, glad thatthey understood each other at last.

She rubbed her upper arms distractedly,probably trying to keep warm. “Are you drunk? You sound drunk.”

He chuckled and marched on her, not leaving hertime to protest before he kissed her. She responded to the kiss eagerly and hewalked her backward until he had her pinned to the metal door. His hand ran onher thigh and hooked her leg up as he deepened the kiss.

“Thought you’d found someone else.” he admittedagainst her lips. “Thought you didn’t want me anymore.”

“Oh…”she breathed out in understanding – or maybe in pleasure because he hooked herleg higher and their bodies were aligned and… “Oh.” She tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled his head back.“No, it is not…”

“Good.” he interrupted, rubbing himself againsther. “All I need to know.”

“No, we need to stop.” she argued, pushing onhis chest.

He nuzzled her neck. “No, we don’t.”

“Yes, we do.”she snapped. “Stop.”

Her tone added to her hands firmly planted onhis chest made his lusty mood disappear very quickly. He stepped back, hurt andconfused.

“The fuckis this?” he grumbled. “You’re on a sex strike? So what… You want me toapologize ‘cause I didn’t tell you that…”

“Oh, would you stop.” she sighed dramatically. “It has nothing to do with us. Come to bed, it is far too cold tobe standing around.”

And, as if it made any sense at all, sheclimbed back onto the bunk bed and buried herself under the covers.

“Ever heard of mixed signals, sweetheart?” hescoffed.

“Come here, Haymitch.” she ordered.

He rebuked against the command but it was cold and, if she was ready to accepthim in her bed, it couldn’t be thatbad.

He worked on the shoelaces of his boots,shooting her an annoyed glance. “So you don’t wanna fuck but it’s got nothing to do with us. How does that workexactly?”

Only her eyes were peeking out from under theblankets fort she had going on her bed – he wasn’t sure where she had found theextra covers and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know either: plausibledeniability.

“I do not have condoms.” she stated.

He stood up and awkwardly climbed into the bunkbed with her, rearranging the covers around them both.

“We haven’t been using condoms in years.” heobjected, automatically wrapping his arm around her shoulders when she snuggledclose to his side. She was freezing and her feet were like ice cubes.

“Yes, but I am not on the pill anymore.” sheexplained. “I asked for contraceptives in the hospital and they looked at me asif…” She shook her head. “They have fertility problems here.”

“Yeah, so what?” he frowned. “That’s theirproblem, not ours. I don’t get how…”

“Precisely – as I pointed out a little morediplomatically.” she huffed. “It appears contraceptive methods as well as any formof abortion measures are forbidden by law. Using contraception is a capitalcrime.”

“You’re fuckingkidding me…” he spat. But he wasn’t quite surprised. Thirteen was a militaryDistrict and their population was thin. They would need to replenish the stockof soldiers before long if they wanted to survive.

“I wish I was.” she lamented. “I am sorry, Haymitch, I did not mean tomake you feel as if I did not want you anymore… I simply thought avoidingtemptation would be best. I know you have your rules about this and there are not bad rules to follow so…”

He automatically started playing with her hair,loosening the braid even more, in an instinctive comforting response to theanguish in her voice.  

“You should just have explained.” he rebuked.

“I thought you knew.” she shrugged.

He gave it a second and then groaned when herealized the implications. “You’re fuckingtelling me we can’t do anything aslong as we’re here?”

He had a sudden flash of the war dragging onforever, of years spent unable totouch each other…

“Well… We can certainly do things…” she teased. Her hand trailed down his chest under theblankets and toyed with his belt buckle. “We will just have to be creativeand…”

“You’re barren.” he cut her off. If her recoilwas to be believed, he had been a bit too brutal. “Shit. Not how… I just meant… We’re safe on that front, yeah?”

She was on the pill but it was mostly toassuage his own panic at the idea of knocking up anyone, wasn’t it? He waspretty sure that…

“I am not barren.”she hissed,  obviously insulted. “I havea medical condition that would make it very difficult for me to get pregnantwithout a fertility treatment or some help. And even then, it would be noguarantee of success. The chances of me getting pregnant are slim but notinexistent. The chances of me carrying to term without proper medical care arenext to zero. So, no, we are notentirely safe.”

He sighed but didn’t answer immediately. Shesettled back against his side after a moment, still irritated but apparentlyhappy enough to cuddle close to his warm body. How she had survived so longwithout him to warm her up when she was so cold, he didn’t know.

“Slim.” he repeated after a few minutes.

“Slim.” she confirmed.

He petted her hair distractedly, staring at thegrey ceiling. “What are the chances my sperm is still worth anything anyway?I’m probably shooting blank.”

“So you want to risk slim and probably?” Shesounded stunned by that.

“I don’t want a kid.” he replied defensively,as if it was what she had accused him of. “I just… I really fucking need you. I miss you.” Headded the last part in an awkward mumble.

She brushed her fingertips against his cheek,gently nudging him to look at her.

“You can have me.” she promised. “There areways to have fun without penetration… Hand jobs and oral amongst others. Youlove those.” He made a face. He loved those but that wasn’t what he needed.What he wanted, needed, was to losehimself in her. It wasn’t just the physical release he was after. She must haveunderstood because her face softened. “We could… There is always anal. It isnot the same thing and I know you are not keen on it but…”

“What if I pull out?” he cut her off. “Chancesof you getting pregnant are slim, I probably shoot blank, so if I pull out…”

“There would still be a risk, it is not asuitable equivalent to contraceptive methods.” she warned, drumming her fingerson his stomach in a distracted fashion. She propped her chin on his shoulder.“I am not against it but you need to be verysure it is a risk you want to take.”

The risk seemed almost nonexistent.

The alcohol abuse alone…

He stared at her, quietly calculating. “We needto be careful how we do it.”

“Some positions would be out of the question,yes.” she hummed. “Missionary and its variants first and foremost.” She flashedhim a teasing grin. “It means I get to be on top more often. Are you sure youwill be alright with that?”

He rolled his eyes at her and pulled her overhim with a smug smirk. “You’re sure you canhandle it?”

She licked her lips and straddled his hips,lazily rocking on him.

“Why, darling… Why don’t we find out?” shechallenged.

It was a challenge he was happy to take her on.

[le-corbeau-doux]

A long breath out

I have been refraining from pouring all of this into letters. It has been boiling in me for weeks and my usual belief of being able to handle it seems to have failed me. I take all the pride in my introspection but now it seems to have been a broken tool. 

But here I am confronting all of it. I have finally decided to act upon wanting to let go. Because that has been a desire gripping my neck and clawing at my stomach every hour of every day for the past weeks. I did want to let go. I do want to let go. It strikes me differently this time though, I did not feel like I was making progress.

Tonight I am saying goodbye to you Sergio. I have said goodbye to you multiple times, but this time I have to say goodbye to something that hurts me a lot more than you ever could have hurt me; the thought of you.

I have realised that this wild infatuation that has been poisoning my weeks, my mental health, my thoughts, has only been directed at the picture that I have made up of you. This wound festers. This image gets distorted in a way that I sabotage myself with illusions and delusions that take the form of you within my mind. 

You, the gem that confronted me almost immediately when I arrived in this alien city. I had not known many people and despite all the excitements, I was scared. But you did ask me out on a date and I was genuinely looking forward to it. You are beautiful. You bear the resemblance of the ideal partner that I had been picturing whenever a friend asked me with a devilish smile on their face: “So what kind of guys do you like?” I grin a little bit when I imagine your hair falling over your forehead. I get a bittersweet taste in my minds when I imagine you laugh at something that I say; your smile is astonishing. In my head, you were the boy from Spain, the beautiful, exotic little town of Santo Domingo. The boy with three degrees in biotechnology on his way to create ground-shaking innovations for this world. Someone who asked me to give him massages because that is the kind of boyfriend he was looking for. A person, tall enough for my unreasonable expectations, someone strong enough to make my heart beat in that weird pattern when they embrace me; legs crossed over each other, all four of them in your bed. Unfortunately, I imagined what an amazing couple we could make. I was interested in the paintings you had made, in the rants that you gave me about your managers being annoying in your store. I wanted to show you Budapest and I wanted you to show me Bilbao, Faro, Lisbon. I get butterflies just from seeing that mysterious profile picture you have on the one platform I could reach out to you.

Because in the end, only I reached out to you.

In reality, you are everything that I had just listed - yet nothing like it. Because there had been a malicious filter in my mind. I only let these things take root in my brain instead of looking at the whole picture. But that is me; the hopeless romantic cutting off his friends trying to take care of himself while writing a giant monologue about his pain, in his bed, with fairy lights on around him. Pathetic? Absolutely not; vulnerable and real? Yes.

Truly, you are a man who is 7 years older than me, yet unable to figure out his emotional landscape. Somebody, who could remain completely rigid in spite of all my rhetorics being put to use to convey the feelings and aspirations that were swirling and raging around within me. Somebody, who can only text back with three words out of which one is usually “Hah”, A person that does not actually have as much chemistry with me as I usually thought; not once did you care about my stories or show a glimpse of curiosity towards a world that was in me; a world I was ready to open up and show you whenever you would have wanted. Your sense of style is lacking, you live within a bubble of your routines and ideals, you pretend to embark on life with the mindset of ‘carpe diem’ but all you do is desperately try to figure out how to trigger the wanderlust that you otherwise only fake. You do not know what city you want to live in within the next month and you completely failed to successfully pass the bureaucratic battle of applying to a university; despite having three degrees already. (Not as helpful as we thought, huh) You were fine with being the only one who had an orgasm. You were fine with leaving me on one side of the bed and rolling over to the other. You were fine with throwing breadcrumbs at me and then expecting me to float within this fake limbo that you had created for your own comfort within the chaos in your mind that was birthed by your inability to figure yourself out. You ignore a picture of me now that would have made you send me the drooling emojis weeks ago. You text me when you are drunk that you are in the same club as I am then proceed to treat me like a stranger for the rest of the night. 

You do not appreciate me. That is your mistake, Sergio. There are only so many people out there who will appreciate you in a way I was ready to do so. 

And this is fine.

It is time for me to realise that I am surrounded with a multitude of people whose loving embraces envelope me even when there are 7 borders stretching between us. It is time for me to realise that you do not deserve to have this much space in my head. All these people around me make me realise that I am my own, whole person whom I have started to appreciate more than I will have ever appreaciated you. I do not care about any thoughts that start with a “What if” anymore. This is over, you have walked out the door, but it is me who will turn the key and then throw it away. I will only get better and better at being me and  just you watch where I will be at the age that you have already attained.

Just you watch me, Sergio. The raven’s claws leave their mark. Whether you admit it or not. 

This time it is goodbye for good, because I am now stripping all the power from your fake image that was created in my head.

It flies free. And should its flight stagger occasionally because of the winds you still send in its way, it will not stop getting farther and farther away from you. Little by little. 

It flies free.

Goodbye, Sergio