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tundrainafrica · 3 years

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Title: Division of Labor (4/?)

Summary:

“The past years, we have noticed a lot of our fresh high school graduates knew nothing about responsibilities the that awaited them outside high school and even college. Many students do not master budgeting, taxes, household planning, loans and we hope to raise a generation who can navigate the adult world without the consequences of bad decisions they are bound to make going in blindly…”

Paradis High school starts a program incorporating adulting into their curriculum and Hange and Levi are paired together.

Note: From request of @a-golden-hearted-snk-fan. See this link for the request

So here is the next chapter of division of labor. I had intended to drop it today for a long time. I didn't expect it to coincide with leaks so sorry for the slight mood whiplash.

Anyway, thank you to the anons on tumblr for asking about this fic. I still find it pretty surreal that people actually think about my work, let alone send asks about it.

Other Chapters: 1 2 3

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Having lived alone for all of his high school life and some of his middle school life, Levi was sure of one thing.

Cooking is fun. Except when it is graded.

In fact, nothing can be fun when someone is behind them watching their every move telling them their performance in that one activity can determine a grade and that grade can determine their future. As Levi and Hange surveyed the ingredients in front of them, Erwin was behind them. Of all the workstations he had chosen to hang out in, it happened to be theirs.

As Levi looked at the other workstations, he could see Nanaba to his left already cracking two eggs into a bowl next to Mike. Bertholdt who was working in front of them with his pair Reiner was already cutting up what looked like cheese cubes. To his right was his own pair Hange who was shaking the eggs to her ear.

“Just to check if they’re boiled,” she explained. Levi did not even notice he had given her a judgemental look until she avoided his gaze looking a little self conscious.

Of course they wouldn’t be boiled. They were supposed to be doing everything from scratch. Why did he and Hange in particular look the most clueless? Why weren’t they doing anything? Levi looked behind him again to see Erwin still staring at both of them. I’m not clueless. Levi had to remind himself. He preplanned and prepared meals multiple times a week. He could make anything from the ingredients laid out in front of him. Eggs. Cheese. Celery. Instant noodles.

Why the hell is there instant noodles. What am I supposed to be making?

That ordeal only fueled his hatred for surprise tasks. He hated pop quizzes. Particularly because he had the cursed history of not knowing exactly what would be asked during the actual quizzes but having comprehensive knowledge in another facet of whatever topic they discussed in class. At that moment, he could have gladly given an oral exam about why exactly putting a washing machine in the bathroom was a good idea. Hange probably would have been able to do a practical exam or presentation explaining why a rent-to-own scheme was the best option for homeowners.

Both he and Hange though, probably spent at the most ten minutes running through that meal plan which was biting them so painfully in the ass at that moment. On top of that, the restrictions were ridiculous and unnecessary.

“No checking the recipe?” It was Connie that time towards the front of the room who was protesting the ridiculous restriction put on them. “I thought you’re supposed to be simulating adulthood. In real life everyone could just research the recipes? ”

“What if you don’t have wifi but you have eggs and vegetables in front of you and you need to cook breakfast?” Erwin challenged.

“We’ll have recipe books.” Sasha answered.

Erwin raised his eyebrows, looking pointedly at the Connie and Sasha pair. “Will your current financial situation allow that?”

Levi found some solace in Erwin’s comment. Maybe, just maybe that meant that they weren’t the only pair currently burning in hell financially in this little game of adulting. He looked to Hange and the face she made as Erwin had said the words `current financial situation’ and “allow” in the same sentence, Levi guessed that Erwin’s comment probably applied to them as a pair too.

“It is important at least for all of you to know the basics of cooking a nice meal even without the recipe.

Levi sighed. He lived alone and he knew they didn’t need it. Levi had a recipe book for easy recipes at home and almost always had wifi anyway. Nobody actually needed to memorize recipes. He was aware though of the culture of schools to know that schools always made things harder than they were supposed to be.

At least when you’re in the real world, things will be so much easier because you’ve had it hard already. Some teachers would defend. Making things unnecessarily hard though wasn’t at all an effective way to get people good at things. Sometimes, making things unnecessarily hard only left students with chronic unresolved tensions with certain formulas, academic concepts and sometimes even mundane objects they had encountered too many times in an academic setting. In fact, he started to feel the beginnings of it when he encountered washing machines and Japanese style house designs while he went grocery shopping that weekend. A few times he also could have sworn he’d seen Hange recoil at hearing the words ‘debit’ and ‘credit.’

“Maybe we should boil the eggs?” Hange lined up the ingredients on the counter.

“What the hell are you doing?” Levi asked, or more specifically panicked. Around him he could see the others already turning on the stove. Watching Hange observe the ingredients was only a grave reminder of their own incompetence.

“I’m just trying to arrange the ingredients in different ways. Maybe a good idea will come to mind.” She paused for a second. “Scrambled eggs?”

"Hear me out Hange, what if it isn't scrambled eggs." The ingredients all pointed to scrambled eggs or an omelette. In front of them there was a pan, a skillet, eggs, butter and vegetables. That seemed like the most reasonable option. Having taken tests and quizzes for most of his life though, Levi was a master of the art of ‘doubting one’s self’ in high pressure situations where every decision equated to a deduction. “Why is there a pack of instant noodles?” Whether he had intended to or not, Levi had ended up saying his thoughts out loud.

Hange paused for a second, pressing her thumb to her lips in thought, her eyes completely fixed on the pack of instant noodles in front of her. She looked like she was starting to doubt herself too. “You’re right. Levi, why are there instant noodles? Didn’t you make the meal plan?”

“Didn’t you check it?”

“I did check it. If i remember correctly, there was a recipe for scrambled eggs. But there should have been vegetables.” Hange brought the instant noodles pack closer to her and closely read through it. “Wait a minute. This is chow mein? I thought chow mein was a type of vegetable. Why the hell would you put instant noodles in scrambled eggs?”

Instant noodles and scrambled eggs. For some reason, it hadn’t clicked when all he saw were the ingredients in front of him. With Hange bringing up the two key ingredients of eggs and instant noodles, he started to remember what revisions he had made to that particular recipe. “It’s cheaper to make omelette rice with instant noodles than with actual rice.” He admitted lightly.

“Levi! We’re graded for nutritional value. Did you not read the rubrics?”

Levi looked away. In fact he had failed to read the rubrics. “Weren’t you supposed to be checking my work?

“I did check it.”

“Then why did you think chowmein is a type of vegetable? Aren’t you a fan of botany?”

“Levi there are at least one thousand vegetables to think of. You can’t expect me to keep track of all of them.”

Levi then realized that maybe having too much information in one’s brain was a little disadvantageous. Hange may be right that there are thousands of types of vegetables in the world. Levi was sure though that only at least fifty of those types would have been available in an average supermarket. You don’t really go grocery shopping much do you? A part of him had wanted to criticize her and maybe start a little argument.

The clatter of pots and pans around him and the urgent sounding voices was only telling him one thing, time was running. They had to churn something up or risk failing that quiz. He wished at least he could have double checked the rubrics. Alas, their phones were in their bags, all gathered towards the front of the rooms. All they had armed with them then was their procedural memory and the many ingredients in front of them.

Maybe, just maybe though we could do a little improvisation. Levi made eye contact with Hange as he said it. It looked like she had read his mind, Hange reached out for the instant noodles in front of him, ready to slip the pack silently into her pocket.

“If I find out any of you revised any of your recipes or you miss out on one ingredient, expect a 50% deduction for this test,” Erwin announced from behind them.

Within a second, the pack of instant noodles was back on the table and that flash of understanding between Levi and Hange had changed to one of horror and panic. Did he notice?

“Marco, I really cannot remember why the hell I needed so many of these spices in the first place.” Jean said apologetically from his station to their right.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have asked your mom to make the meal plan in the first place then.” Marco sounded surprisingly pissed.

At least they weren’t the only one in hell’s kitchen.

Division of Labor

By some silent agreement, all meetings with his actual friends were cancelled. It was as if everyone in the room had unanimously decided to make up for that disaster of a kitchen quiz by working on the next deliverable days before it was due. It was as if everyone was sure they had failed Erwin’s little pop quiz

Or long test. Erwin though never gave the breakdown of how much of their grade that disaster in the kitchen was. Levi found some assurance at least in the fact that everyone did look as unsure as they were about it. They can’t fail the whole class right?

Either way, a failing grade is still a failing grade. Levi and Hange had gone for the plan of omelette rice having kept the instant noodles revision. And with nutritional value a 60% of their grade for the actual meal plan, their expectations for their grades were low. On the bright side at least, Erwin said that there would be more pop quizzes in the kitchen, so they just had to memorize the recipe of whatever they put in the meal plan the next time around.

It would be painstaking, Levi was sure. But as students he and Hange had been forced to memorize formulas, kingdoms and phyla, vocabulary words, thesis statements, poems and dialogues. That should be nothing. Levi though had a building resentment for the subject, particularly the fact that no one had prepared them for that type of stress at all. None of the seniors ever had to do this type of program and thus, Levi was completely unprepared mentally for ‘adulting.’

Welcome to adulthood. That was what was written on the top of the questionnaire he and Hange were supposed to be submitting by Friday midnight. It was Wednesday afternoon of that week and he was grateful Hange had even suggested they start earlier. Only that morning, Erwin had submitted a new list of deliverables which seemed more comprehensive than the last.

September*

Week 1

Meal Plan

Investment Plan Part I: Disposable Income

Pop quiz

Week 2

Education Plan for Kids

Module 2 (See attached fail)

Pop quiz

Week 3 - 4

TBA

While Hange answered some of the questions on the questionnaire, Levi could only stare at the module in his email. He had promised Hange he would look into it while she filled out her part of the questionnaire. His eyes though were stuck on the little typo

Fail. He was sure Erwin meant file. In that type of module though, he would consider that typo almost fatal since the whole program was already screaming the words ‘failure’ at him.

He had to note at least that Erwin put the words pop quiz there for every week. He couldn’t help but think it was due to the fact that everyone had failed that last cooking exam and that was a sign of some mercy on the teacher’s side.

He clicked the module below the email to find that the file was too large at least for google to open. Oh, I guess it’s too large to open on my phone. It might slow it down after all. A petty excuse but he was just tired and instead decided to entrust the responsibility of opening said document to the Levi of a few hours later who would be in front of an actual computer.

“The file is too big to open on my phone. Sorry, I didn’t think about bringing my laptop today.” Levi’s words weren’t too sincere. A part of him was telling him never to bring his laptop on campus in the first place and was thankful for that bout of irresponsibility. Delaying the inevitable at present is always such a sweet feeling after all.

“It’s fine, it wasn’t too hard to fill out what’s needed. We just needed to assign rooms for Flora and Fauna…” Hange started looking pointedly at the flour babies who were leaning by the window of the diner they started to frequent. “Then break down our budget for other things like furniture, groceries, household necessities…”

She slid the paper over to Levi. As if by magic, his brain just shut down at seeing the numbers out there. A part of him though, a more tenacious part was nagging at him to comment at the computations in front of him.

He focused on the words not the numbers. There were calculations for household necessities like detergent and cleaning wax, groceries, baby stuff, utility bills. Somehow it was only making Levi feel more useless for not even understanding what she was writing.

So you have to comment. Levi willed himself to open his mouth and rack his brain for something reasonable and useful to say. Those thoughts on his end all culminated to two words. “Washing machine... “

“What? You’re still not over that?”

“You really don’t want the washing machine in the bathroom?”

“Levi, we’ve been over this!” Hange said, looking exasperated. Within a split second, her look softened into something else then within a second twisted into what looked like shame or embarrassment. “Yeah, I don’t think we even have the money to pay for that in installments now. But hey, a washing machine isn’t a necessity right? Like handwashing is still a thing.”

Levi didn’t agree. He knew in the back of his mind that anything that made cleaning easier was a necessity. Hange though had made the calculations and as a form of respect for her hardwork and a punishment for himself and his inability to have been of any use with that questionnaire, he kept quiet.

He just had to trust her. Group works were all about trust after all.

Division of Labor

“Your answers were all a fucking mess. If adulting was a war, none of you would make it back alive. All of you will starve with your shitty planning and resource conserving skills.” Shadis waved a wad of papers so magnificently over his head as he slammed them on the table. “I want to hear your justifications for making such idiotic decisions. Maybe that can bring up your grade to a D at least.”

“Blouse Springer!”

“Yes sir!” Sasha stood up instinctively.

“Connie join your partner!”

“We have to sta---?” Connie’s eyes widened as if he realized a second later the disrespect in what he had just said. He stood up a split second after. “Yes sir!”

“Tell me again. What are your jobs?”

Connie looked at the documents and back at him. “Is what we put in the document… wrong… sir?”

“What. Are. Your. Jobs?”

Sasha and Connie exchanged glances and looked back up at him. “I’m a marketing specialist…” Connie started. “And Sasha---”

“Journalist sir.”

“So you have eight to five jobs right?”

“Yes we do,” Connie answered.

“And three kids?”

The two nodded in sync. “Yes sir,” Sasha said. “Or that’s what I remember…” In fact, she shouldn’t have had to recall that. The three flour sacks were on their desk after all. “Did we miss one?”

Shadis ignored them. “Then why did you tick ‘no babysitter’ here?”

“Are we supposed to tick it sir?” Connie asked. A brave question that had everyone in the classroom more silent than they had been a second ago.

“You have eight to five jobs and three children. So are you telling me you will take the kids to work?

“Are we allowed? The fee for a babysitter everyday just seems… extravagant.”

That wasn’t the right word. The right word was exorbitant. As some of the people in the class would have agreed. Many could see though that Connie was shaking at the incessant questions and that should have been the last of his concerns.

Shadis though seemed unpreturbed at the wrong word choice. “Well what if your boss doesn’t allow you to bring three kids to work?”

“Then we leave them at home?”

“And you know that’s illegal?”

The silence in the room had become deafening.

“You can be sued for child neglect,” Shadis expounded

“But how would they know?” It was a bold question from Connie

The room exploded in hesitant mutters only silenced a second later by Shadis’ eerily cold reply. “Social workers are very perceptive people, Connie. I’m surprised you’re even underestimating them. Be ready to pay attorney dues for this.” He wrote something on the paper on his desk which was probably Connie and Sasha’s submission before pushing it to the bottom of the pile.

“Next pair…Ackerman Zoe. Stand up.”

By lunchtime, Levi was in a trance, a very strong strance. He did not even notice the students who had filed out of the classroom for lunch, his eyes completely fixed on the beautiful view of the school courtyard as the leaves started to change color.

That was not what he was admiring though. He wasn’t actually admiring anything. Although his eyes were fixed at such a beautiful view, his brain had done nothing to process it.

“So… You wanna talk about the next output?” That familiar voice sounded like a screech to Levi and it was more than enough to pull him out.

“We are so fucked.” Levi’s words were almost instinctive. It was as if just hearing Hange’s voice sent his whole body into panic mode. Of course he would, having just been grilled by Shadis and having one’s incompetence exposed could do that to anyone.

“There’s an output every week. We’ll be fine,” Hange assured.

Levi could only stare at Hange. He had know idea what kind of face he was making. All he could think then though was the fact that she out of the two of them should have been in a worse state of panic than he was.

And her calm ironically only stressed him out further. Having been reeling from the stress of it for almost four hours, Levi still remembered their exchange perfectly.

"Okay Ackerman… Just a homemaker. And Zoe. You’re working freelance?

"So Levi and I decided that I'll be a scientist and he'll take care of the house," Hange had said so confidently.

"What about taxes?"

“Taxes?”

“I looked at the breakdown of your budget Zoe. You didn’t mention anything about taxes.”

“I’m freelance sir.”

“Zoe, has it ever occured to you that freelancers pay taxes too?”

And their lesson of the day came soon after that exchange. The tasks were detailed and demanded a lot of thought. Through all they had learned over that one painful exchange and maybe through the glimpses of the next few exchanges he had so half heartedly watched, he had learned a lot.

He could have easily summarized it all into one sentence though. Do not take Erwin's tasks with a grain of salt.

Erwin had thought everything through. It could have been by coincidence or it could have also been just a lack of thought on the side of the students but somehow the set up Erwin had was exposing the weaknesses of the students when it came to learning, and possibly their potential weaknesses when it comes to actual adulting.

"I’m deducting the taxes already."

"You heard Shadis, It's too late the hypothetical government is out to get us.” Levi added the word hypothetical to at least help himself bask in the fact that it was still a simulation. “We’re getting penalized.”

Hange smiled wryly. “Fine, we’re kinda financially… going through a rough patch,” She admitted. “But we’re not the only ones going through this type of financial bump. Eren and Mikasa, Sasha and Connie, Reiner and Bertholdt, Petra and Oluo…” Hange trailed off. “I mean okay Armin and Annie looked like they were doing fine but back in the supermarket, they looked kinda confused too.”

“A failing grade is a failing grade.”

“But Levi, they can’t fail the whole class.” Hearing that Hange was somehow very reassuring.

Hange was right. Teachers can’t fail a whole class and Levi was aware of two methods teachers tend to employ when dealing with an underperforming class: employ a curve or give extra credit.

Levi should have known though from his short yet very tumultuous few weeks with that adulting program that a curve would have seemed a little too merciful for their teachers.

With the uncomfortable look Erwin gave the class, Levi was sure at least a majority of the class had fucked up financially. How exactly, he was unsure.

Right after they had finished their own mini oral exam, Levi had fallen into a trance. A trance, trying to think up a back up life just in case he never manages to graduate high school or make it to college.

Misery though loves company. Especially when it’s a whole class failing. Levi was not the type to want to wish misfortune on anyone else. Being as completely idiotic and dense as he and Hange were though, Levi found himself grateful for the unfortunate situation the class found themselves in,

“It looks like a lot of you are struggling financially. Zeke and I had a quick talk about this actually…”

Levi’s blood ran cold at the name, Zeke. At that point, he didn’t know if he hated Zeke or he hated Math. Looking back at Zeke’s unfavorable personality, he was guessing probably both.

“And we realized it would be beneficial if we introduce the possibility of finding other sources of income which would be a good lesson in financial management.”

There were some sighs of disappointment among the class. Levi empathized. In fact, he probably would have joined them as well if he weren’t so jaded by the course of events already. Still, a small part of him had hoped as well that they would just raise their salaries.

That was the equivalent of a curve though and Levi somehow knew, grading on the curve was just not Erwin’s style.

“So I am introducing two options to increase your income. One is through investments which will be taught by Zeke another day and another one is through this ‘new system’ I thought out.” Erwin looked a little too proud of that ‘new system.’

“We will be offering extra tasks you may choose to take around the school, these include cleaning, admin tasks, lab work and anything else the teachers may need help done. Each task will have a corresponding pay which can be added to your income for that month.”

So it’s exploitable free labor. Levi thought to himself. He was sure he wasn’t the only one thinking of that. Everyone in the room was desperate though. In the end, despite the questionable set up, it had come out looking like a gesture of generosity from their teacher. Levi saw that in the way a lot of the students around him looked relieved to hear that announcement.

“Or we can just choose to budget within our means?” Annie spoke up from her place on the front next to Armin. She was notably calmer than a lot of people in the room. Levi had suspected for a while though that Armin and Annie weren’t in as much trouble financially.

“I’m sure though a lot of you would want to earn more money,” Erwin said, a knowing smile on his face. “You can exchange these for this thing I will be introducing called ‘disposable income tokens’ and if you collect enough, you can get a free ticket out of doing one of the modules or the pop quizzes of the week of your choice.”

#levihan #levi ackerman #hange zoe #levi x hange #levihan fanfiction

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dailyaudiobible · 3 years

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08/06/2021 DAB Transcript

Ezra 3:1-4:23, 1 Corinthians 2:6-3:4, Psalms 28:1-9, Proverbs 20:24-25

Today is the 6th day of August welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I’m Brian it is a joy to be here with you today as we all find our places around the Global Campfire and take the next step forward together. And that next step leads us…well…we’re kind of in some new territory in both old and new Testaments. We’re moving into Ezra and we’re moving into first Corinthians. So, that's where we'll be today. First, Ezra chapter 3 verse 1 through 4 verse 23.

Commentary:

Okay. So, as we began the book of Ezra we talked about, you know, what its contents are and the fact that it sort of picks up where second Chronicles, the book we previously read left off. And, so, exiles are returning back to Jerusalem with the blessing of the king to rebuild the temple and worship God there. And, so, they have. They have come back and begun to rebuild, but the people around them are being critical and some are coming and asking if they can help rebuild, the people that have been relocated into Samaria by the Assyrian Empire, the people that will come to be known as Samaritans, who worship God differently. And, so, there’s sort of a…a rift there with the returning Hebrew people, the naturally born Hebrew people wanting to rebuild the temple of God, as commanded by the king, they didn’t want any mixture, they didn’t want any help. And, so, that causes a rift, and before long the politics start, and letters are being written to the king. And by the time we finish our reading today everything is stopped. Like, their dream and their mission has come to a halt. And this book Ezra and the one that will follow it Nehemiah…I mean…we’re definitely reading of the restoration of parts of Jerusalem that had been destroyed by the Babylonians. And, so, we have a bit of a historical account here, but when we look deeper into the challenges that are faced we really do see some things for our own lives. And, so, what we’re going to begin to see here is endurance, perseverance, staying true to a specific goal that that that needs to be achieved, even if things grind to a halt, even if it's just a millimeter forward per day until things break loose. Keep moving forward even if it's just a little bit every day toward what we’re heading into and enduring what we must to achieve those things, these are valuable lessons for our…for our lives, because intimidation and discouragement and politics and the stuff we’re seeing begin to shape up here in Ezra are things that we face at one point or another in one circumstance or another. And, so, there's so much here for us to watch. But what we watched today is the joy of rebuilding. And, of course, as sacrifices are starting to be offered they’re on the site of the Temple. Some people are very, very joyful. Like this is the restoration that we were praying for. And other people who had seen God's temple before it was restored are weeping because of what was lost. And they continue forward until their halted by…by the king. And we’ll pick up with that story tomorrow.

In the letter to the Corinthians, first Corinthians that we’re in, Paul had been talking about the nonsense of the gospel in our reading yesterday and how it’s offensive to Hebrew people and Judaism because it does not line up with accepted tradition, and it doesn’t make any sense to a Gentile who’s never been involved in Judaism. It sounds like nonsense. And that kind of conversation continues today. And…and so, we…we can see this. Let me quote Paul. Now, just put on a rational mind here. Like, just listen to these words rationally and not spiritually. “We speak about the mystery of God's wisdom. It is a wisdom that has been hidden which God had planned for our glory before the world began.” Okay that's a statement. It's a statement of faith. It's a statement that you would have to believe, but if you look at that statement rationally it’s like what hidden wisdom? What glory was planned before the world began? Who knows this? How do you know this? And you can start picking it apart and go, well…well just that one verse there, that doesn't even make sense, much less the rest of what Paul's saying. What Paul was saying that we…we gleaned from our reading yesterday is that it's all backwards. The world's wisdom, the way that things are constructed is what we have done over time to try to be our own sovereign and have control over this place and control over everyone else in whatever way we can. And it's upside down. Jesus said the same kinds of things, especially like in the Beatitudes. It's upside down. It's backward. And, so, Paul says that's intentional. That's his argument. That's intentional. This nonsense that you…that you can't wrap your mind around, that's intentional. You won't be able to hold God in your mind or control him that way by human understanding. Even if you've devoted your life to a theological understanding, you’re scratching the surface of the most-high God. And, so, according to Paul, God has chosen the foolishness of the world to reveal his wisdom. And to believe these things might make us look foolish to anyone out there but once we've tasted and seen, like once we've had eyes to see, even for a moment, things flipped upside down where we have eyes to see this kingdom at work in and among us and that we’re a part of this, that changes everything. We can’t unsee what we've seen. I quote Paul. “God has revealed those things to us by His Spirit. The Spirit searches everything, especially the deep things of God. After all, who knows everything about a person, except that person’s Spirit. in the same way no one has known everything about God except God's own Spirit. And we didn't receive the Spirit that belongs to the world. Instead, we received the Spirit who comes from God so that we can know the things which God has freely given us. We don't speak about these things using teachings that are based on intellectual arguments like people do. Instead, we use the Spirits teachings. We explain spiritual things through those who have the Spirit.” So, we can look at this and go, well we are rational beings who try to create order out of the story that we’re living to try to give some linearity to it so that it makes sense as we live. And we look at things to try to understand how they work. So how then, if God is so far beyond us and we’re only can have spiritual teachings, then how will this settle in? What makes it work? Which is what brings us to a very famous saying in the book of first Corinthians. So, Paul says, “a person who isn’t spiritual doesn't accept the teachings of God’s Spirit. He thinks they’re nonsense. They can’t understand them because a person must be spiritual to evaluate them. Spiritual people evaluate everything but are subject to no one's evaluation. Who has known the mind of the Lord so that he can teach Him? However, we have the mind of Christ.” So, according to Paul that’s what we see through. That is the lens that we see through. It's not our own intellectual understanding, it's the mind of Christ opening with in us. And indeed, to those who have not accepted or believed in faith in that direction than its nonsense. For those who have opened their hearts and minds to the mind of Christ and the Spirit of the risen Christ within and the guidance of the Holy Spirit than we can't see differently. Things have changed.

Prayer:

Father, we open ourselves to You. Even now, even as we’re here in this moment now we slow things down and open our hearts and minds to You understanding that we can't hold onto You, that we can't figure You out, we can't rationalize all of this. It’s not something that we can sort out. It's something that we have to simply be and know. So, we open ourselves. Come Holy Spirit, may the mind of Christ open within us. May our hearts open to Your Spirits guidance and direction. May we pay attention we pray in the name of Jesus. Amen.

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And that's it for today. I’m Brian love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Good morning DABber family this is the burning Bush that will not be devoured for the glory of our God and our king. I'm calling with a praise report guys. Two years ago, this time of year I was calling in with a prayer request for my nephew who was diagnosed with a brain tumor, was undergoing several tests. The doctors had gotten to a point where they thought that this was going to be fatal and his at the time girlfriend had gone to stay in the hospital with him. They got married in the hospital and, you know, my family was praying, you guys were praying with us, and I just want to announce today that he is awaiting the…the birth of his first child. Now rewind two years ago they thought that he was not going to make it past three months and today he is alive and well. God has healed his body. His family is growing, and I just want to share this with those who are struggling with something similar. Somebody in your family has a brain tumor. Someone in your family’s struggling with cancer. Know that it's not a death sentence, that there is nothing that God can’t do. The power of prayer still exists today. That's it. I want to pray for God’s Smile and her husband. Father God, I praise You for the beautiful couple. I praise You for health in their family Lord. I pray that You will sustain them and keep them and help them to consistently walk in Your grace. I pray for divine health over that family right now in the name of Jesus. I also pray for all our DABbber family members who are going through sickness and fighting, battling illnesses this this year. I pray for healing God, that Your healing hands. I pray that You will put the blood of the lamb over the door of each of our members and the name of Jesus that they will not fall to any illness in the name of Jesus I pray. I love You all. Amen, Amen, Amen. Have a blessed…

Lee from New Jersey my brother from another mother this is doctor, John from Jordan New York. We missed our birthdays July 24th. I don't know what number it is for you but for me it'll be my 14th Daily Audio Bible birthday. And, yeah, I'd love to hear from you and see how you're doing. I also have another request DAB family. I have a glaucoma procedure tomorrow and I'm in surgery on August the 3rd. Today is August 2nd. So, if you could pray for positive outcome, pray for the surgeon’s hands, for my vision to stabilize. For the first time ever, I have lost vision. My dad was blind at 65 and I've got normal pressure glaucoma which means that his vision under normal pressure. So, I’ve got to try to get my pressures lower. And, so, I'm kind of getting a taste of what my dad experienced, and I'd rather not lose anymore vision. So, if you could pray for me, I would appreciate it. Love you family. Lee, give me a call give me a shout out. Love you brother. Bye bye.

Hello DAB family this is Dasia from North Carolina. I am calling in response to prayer Mama calling about your situation with your daughter Lauren. I know the spirit of suicide firsthand. I tried several times in my life not understanding that the gifting of the burdens of my life was for the ministry of my life. So it is my prayer that God touches her mind, touches her heart to realize that everything she's going through even though it's painful to her has nothing to do with her. It's all about what God has to reveal through her. So, I pray with you Mama that everything is gonna be OK. I would not recommend that you let her know you read her diary because that's just another avenue for the enemy to play on her mind. So, just stay in prayer, fast before the Lord, keep her lifted as we will keep her lifted. And in the name of Jesus Lauren, we call against…we pray against the spirit of suicide. I bind it in the mighty name of Jesus. Hallelujah God, I thank you so much lower for the life of Lauren Lord. I thank you for the ministry of Lauren Lord. Lord, I thank you because I know that you are going to touch, I know that you're going to reveal yourself unto this family and I bless your name in the mighty name of Jesus I pray. Hallelujah, thank you Jesus. Keep your head up Mama. Everything is gonna be alright. The sun will shine again in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Good morning DABbers I'm responding to the prayer request from the mother who read her daughter’s journal. Daughter is __ suicidal. Father we lift up this daughter before You this morning. I pray Your peace and __. We ask Lord God almighty that You'll visit her in a divine way, that You'll take away all the suicidal thoughts away from her. We also pray for the couple that are taking in their niece. Their niece is leaving behind a lot of baggage. Father for the good heart that this couple have to be able to take this niece in, Lord I pray that You protect them, their little daughter and their son. We pray Lord God almighty for wisdom for discernment and we ask Lord that You will send help from Your sanctuary to Your children because they're doing this good deed just like the Lord Jesus Christ has commanded us to do. Lord I pray that in the name of Jesus they will find favor, they will find direction, and they’ll find purpose for the life of their nice. Heavenly Father Lord we lift up this mother that is also smiling again. She wants to help Christine but then though Christine has so many mental issues. Lord, You place it on our hearts to reach out to all DABbers to pray for this woman. As she continues to cut herself Lord we pray that You take away this evil spirit from her and grant her Your peace, give her Your comfort, and let help reach out to her in the name of Jesus. Father we thank You for so many needs that Your children bring to You. Thank You, Lord for Brian and Jill who have put this podcast together that we can all come together and lift each other up in prayer. In Jesus’ name Amen.

Hey DABbers Bubba D with you. Prayer goes out to Tammy from Adirondacks. Father God, restore her. And we ask God for her friend who's a cutter, asking God that You would reveal Yourself to her, that You would speak to this friend who's been harming herself and has been hurt by it. Reveal Yourself God in a way that would affect her, revive her, bring her back to life, bring her to understanding that You love her so much Father. Would You reveal Yourself to her in her thoughts and her feelings and everything she goes through every day, that she would see You in everything and be able to experience You in a deep way. And wherever this hurt is coming from Lord, minister to that Father. Holy Spirit You are the great comforter You are the great counselor. We ask for Your blessing for Tammy's friend in Jesus’ name Lord God. May Your peace wash over her, may Your love wash over her, Your goodness Your grace would be made known to her in new and amazing ways Father. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

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welllpthisishappening · 4 years

Text

Carol of the [Wedding] Bells

It all happens fairly quickly and he doesn’t remember much of it, which, really, seems fairly unfair from where Killian is sitting. Or, laying. Technically. He’s still laying in bed. With Emma next to him. And matching rings on either one of their fingers. On Christmas Eve. In Vegas.

Rating: Like a pretty solid T Word Count: Just under 8K. The prompts, they’re getting longer. Let’s all act super surprised. AN: So, in an effort to make things look a bit nicer, I’m going to post the Festive Fic Prompt a Thon stories on their own, outside of the asks. Today’s prompt from a lovely anon is: "we accidentally got married in vegas oops.” We’ve got pining, we’ve got friends to lovers, we’ve got opinionated Ariel, we’ve got thoughts on the Rat King in the Nutcracker.

|| Also on Ao3 if that’s how you roll ||

-------

His head is going to snap in half.

He kind of hopes it does. It will presumably be more comfortable than whatever is happening behind his right eye, a dull throb and pounding that times up far too closely with his pulse, making Killian’s stomach heave and his mouth is very dry.

He’s not entirely sure where he is.

It’s not very warm.

That is...surprising.

The whole schtick of this place is its warmth. A dry heat and whatnot. He swallows, feeling like his mouth is full of cotton balls with a tongue that is questionably large, blinking against the light streaming in through unfamiliar curtains and—

Bouncing off the band of metal sitting on his finger.

Maybe his head has already cracked. Maybe he’s cracked.

In a psychological sense.

Killian blinks. Once, twice, three times, but the metal doesn’t move and the pain behind his eye appears to be drifting down his spine and he’s so goddamn cold because the other person draped across the majority of the bed has stolen nearly all the blankets.

There’s a bit of fabric clinging to his left heel.

“Holy fu—” he breathes, the rest of the word getting caught in a throat that suddenly feels as if it’s collapsing in on himself.

He can hear his heart pounding against his rib cage, another noise his head does not appreciate and his eyes are starting to water.

He’d blinked enough already. He assumes he’s physically incapable now.

Because now things are starting to piece together, even through the fog and the metaphorical cotton balls, smiles and laughter and far too much alcohol, missed flights and East coast snowstorms, changed plans and new plans and—

Emma mumbles something in her sleep.

So, maybe he’ll just die here.

That would probably be easier to deal with.

“Swan,” Killian says, but his voice doesn’t even sound like him. It scratches its way out of his throat, rough and maybe still a little drunk and...married.

To Emma Swan. Presumably.

God, he really can’t remember.

That is...disappointing.

“Swan,” he repeats, and it takes more than a moment to flip over, another twist of his stomach and clench of his jaw, and Emma makes more noise. Less disappointing. Endearing, even. This is a problem. A bad problem. The worst problem. “Swan, c’mon, love—”

Killian reaches his hand out, lets the pads of his fingers drift over the curve of her elbow, even when it’s still covered by blankets with an astoundingly high thread count. He’s going to choke on his tongue.

It’s growing.

He’s positive.

Taking up far too much real estate in his mouth, a biological defense mechanism because love has always seemed to roll right off that same tongue when Emma Swan is involved, but now it sounds far too big and much too heavy, and Killian cannot think about both his tongue and Emma Swan in the same sentence.

Not when he’s— “Why are you talking to me?” Emma grumbles. He laughs. He doesn’t mean to, but that’s apparently par for the course of the last twelve hours and at some point he’s going to promise that this is all Will’s fault.

And global warming.

If it hadn’t been snowing in New York and Boston, then everyone else would have been able to get to Las Vegas. For Christmas. As planned.

Mary Margaret’s plan, really. There was a schedule and we’ve never done this before and that had been reason enough for everyone to buy plane tickets and book hotels and Emma had called Killian almost immediately to ask do you think we can bribe a hotel clerk to put us in rooms next to each other. Which had almost led to his heart bruising his ribs.

What with all the faster-than-normal beating and being in love with Emma Swan and whatever.

Whatever.

Emma Swan. His wife.

Holy fuck.

“Seriously your voice is so loud,” Emma continues. “Are they doing construction outside or something? It’s too early for that.” “I have no idea what time it is, actually.”

“It’s probably not construction, is it?” “No, I don’t think so.”

“But...you’re here. Yeah?” Killian hums, pointedly ignoring the flicker of hope that appears in the back of his brain at those particular words in that particular order. As if she’d want that.

As if she’d want— They’re friends.

They’re...best friends. He knows things about her. She knows things about him. Good things, not so good things, things they’ve shared together, quiet moments and easy smiles, the growing sense that it’s just a bit easier to breathe around Emma Swan than any other human being on the planet.

They text. They FaceTime. On a schedule. One that Killian would argue is far better than Mary Margaret’s Christmas in Vegas extravaganza. He and Emma have known each other forever, have settled into their roles in the friendship group; the tag-alongs. The extra pairs, third wheels and sad ones with no designated other and this is really Will’s fault. He was supposed to get to Vegas before Mary Margaret and David.

“Here, Swan,” Killian whispers when he realizes Emma is still waiting on an answer.

He needs to find his phone.

He needs to Google things.

“Ok, good. That’s good, just—go back to sleep, ok?”

Her lips barely move when she speaks, burrowing further into the cocoon of blankets she’s created for herself, hair a riotous mess on multiple pillows and the smudges of black in the corners of her eyes make it obvious that neither one of them did much more than collapse into bed the night before.

They’re still wearing clothes.

So, that’s something.

Killian licks his lips. He’s not sure when he started breathing out of his mouth, but he’s suddenly all too aware of it, like every inhale is a particular challenge and he briefly wonders if she can feel whatever it is he’s feeling because the pinch that appears between her brows is rather sudden.

“Swan, Emma, it’s a—” Her eyes fly open, a blazing gaze that Killian swears cuts him right down the middle and stitches him back together. All at the same time.

“Wait,” she snaps. “You’re here.” “Yuh huh.” “In my room. This hotel room.” “Yup.” “And a bed.” “Also true.” “What are you—” “—I, uh,” Killian cuts in, and that’s probably not the best course of action. He bites back the urge to make another golf-related pun. To himself. Emma hasn’t blinked yet. “What do you remember about last night?” She shrugs, lower lip jutted out slightly. He’s got to stop staring at her lips. “I don’t—we were...did we come up with a song to go with the slot machine?” “Yuh huh.”

“Seriously, what is your deal right now? That’s—I mean, we were drunk, but—” Emma stops so abruptly Killian is fairly certain the world has also stopped spinning for a second. Until her hand jerks forward, as if she’s going to swat at his shoulder like it’s any other morning and any other day and he bites down on the side of his tongue. It’s bleeding.

The whole thing is oddly poetic in an entirely depressing sort of way.

Because Emma’s eyes bugs. Her jaw drops. Her exhale is impossibly loud.

“What is that?” Emma exclaims, jumping up and taking the blankets with her. She sways when she gets to her feet, gritting her teeth, and Killian reaches out on something like instinct.

She hisses.

The light glints off his ring again, casting weird shadows across Emma’s face and the dress she’s wearing and she’s still wearing a dress. It’s not white. It’s red and good and great and Killian feels some of the tension that had lingered between his shoulders dissipate as soon as his eyes sweep across her.

This is bad.

And not—

No, bad. Horrible, terrible, an absolute mistake.

Emma runs a hand over her face, fingers moving to pinch the bridge of her nose as she tries to catch her breath. Killian can still taste blood in his mouth. “Ok,” she says, all forced calm, “so, uh—we made up the jingle, song thing and then—” “—Jingle implies that it was an advertisement for the slot machines, doesn’t it?” “Oh my God, you’re making jokes.” Killian nods. “Yeah, a few.” “They’re not funny.” “Has that ever been the case, though?” One side of her mouth tilts up. “I hate you.” “That seems reasonable, all things considered.”

Emma huffs, tugging on the end of her hair like she does when she’s nervous and Killian doesn’t want her to be nervous around him, but he also didn’t expect to wake up married to the best friend he’s spent years pining for, so. Maybe nothing makes sense anymore.

“This is real?” Of all the questions Emma could have asked, standing barefoot in her own hotel room, with, Killian assumes, her own fairly awful hangover, that is not the one he expected to hear.

He expected more shouting.

If he’s being honest.

He nods again, slower that time. “Yeah, I think so.” “Ok, so, uh—” She clicks her teeth, more than once, as if she’s trying to work out some sort of residual energy and that dress is incredibly distracting. Being in love with her is incredibly distracting. “Did we win money last night?” “Quite a bit, if memory serves.” “And does it? Serve?” “Comes and goes in waves,” Killian admits, propping himself up on his elbows. Emma’s mouth does something else. “Scarlet called, do you remember that part?” “To tell us that he was stuck at JFK with Ruby and Belle?” “Yeah. And David and Mary Margaret couldn’t get out of Storybrooke—” “—Well, that’s because the entire town probably has like two pounds of road salt available, so—” “—Four pounds, maybe.” “The jokes,” Emma groans, but there’s not really any frustration to the words and that’s always been the case. The problem, maybe. It’s all too easy.

With her.

And them.

As a unit.

Killian’s eyes flicker to his ring. “Anyway. Scarlett called, gave a progress report on the great Nor’easter of 2019, Mary Margaret might have shed a few tears over her schedule and—” “—Wait until she finds out what we did,” Emma mutters.

The tension returns. Tenfold. It sinks under Killian’s skin and wraps around every one of his bones, slinks through his veins and settles between muscle fibers, threatening to push him into the mattress.

A muscle in Emma’s jaw jumps. ‘I just—” she starts, both hands waving in front of her. “Well, it’s not exactly like getting—”

That muscle is going to fly out of her face. That wasn’t on Mary Margaret’s schedule either. Emma flushes when she can’t finish the sentence, tugging both of her lips behind her teeth. Killian tries not to lift his eyebrows.

It doesn’t work.

He knows as soon as Emma sighs.

“So,” she continues pointedly, “we got the phone call, decided to—” “—Take in the sights of the strip. That’s a verbatim quote by you.” “God, did we start drinking here?” Killian points a finger towards the mini-bar, door still half-open and most of the shelves empty. “Context clues.” “And that led to the casino and the slots and then we won, so…” “I believe the term celebration was used several times.” Emma hums noncommittally, color still dotting her cheeks even when she does her best to bore her eyes into the tiny bit of carpet between her feet. And Killian holds his breath.

He counts to ten. Twenty. Forty-seven.

Backwards, too.

Because the memories keep settling into place, quick flashes of moments and earnest conversation, roaming hands and smiles that would put even the most rhinestone-covered outfit to shame.

Her hand had been very warm in his all night.

And there’d been—

He wishes he didn’t know how soft Emma’s lips were when he kissed her.

At least not like that.

“Right, right,” Emma mumbles. “And, uh—Chapel of the Bells?” “There was a Christmas joke involved there.” “Oh my God, by you or me?” “I honestly can’t remember.” Emma makes a noise previously never heard by human ears. It leaves her whole body bent in half and Killian’s heart shattering in his chest, far too much emotion for a drunken-fueled elopement, but he’s still having a very hard time coming to terms with the dress and the way she keeps twisting strands of hair around her finger and—

He’s already spent too much time thinking about this.

It seems exceptionally unfair that it ended up like this.

“How did we get a license? Don’t you have to have a license in Vegas or is that just for responsible cities with real rules?” “It’s a pretty scathing review of Las Vegas,” Killian says with half a grin. “We looked up that place, didn’t we? The Bell place.” “Oh call it the Bell place from now on, please.” She glares. “The jokes have got to stop. This is—ok, so the Bell place had packages. That’s...I remember that. We went in and we signed things and I had flowers. Like...roses, did you pick those out?” He’s the one blushing now, a heat in his cheeks and lingering at the base of his spine. Whatever inhale Killian takes does not do much to assuage the tightening in his lungs. “Yeah,” he mutters. “I wanted you to have something nice.”

It’s not an admission, per se.

It’s a fact, really.

But Emma’s eyes flicker up and he would swear in front of a variety of judges that there’s a hint of emotion on the edge, her own brand of want that he’s coveted for far longer than he’s willing to admit.

“And now we’re….” “Yuh huh,” Killian repeats, not able to say the actual word. So, he’s really a giant coward is what he is.

“How do we not be that?” It’s for the best that his heart has already cracked because the rest of him feels like it’s falling off in rather large hunks and that’s a disgusting thought, but Killian can still taste blood in his mouth and Emma won’t meet his gaze anymore and—

HIs phone is ringing somewhere.

“Do you need to get that?” Emma asks, soft enough that he can barely hear her. Killian blinks. Multiple times. Again.

“No, that’s—” “—You should probably get your phone, Killian. It’s, um...I mean we need to figure this out, right?” He makes a noise, is only aware that he nods when the muscles in his neck ache with the movement. Emma squeezes her eyes closed. “Because,” she continues, “it’s just a drunken thing. Yeah? That’s—I bet it happens to people all the time. This is like Vegas’ slogan.” “Drunk things brought about by delayed flights and the Christmas spirit?”

Emma’s lips twitch. “That’s verbatim too, huh?” “Something like that.” HIs phone stops ringing. And immediately starts again.

“Get that,” Emma repeats. “I’m, uh—why did we come back here, though?” “You were very certain you had the best sheets in the entire hotel.” “They’re stupid soft, aren’t they?” “I wouldn’t know, you stole all of them in the middle of the night.”

“I’m sorry.” And he can hear the apology for what it is, far more than bedding or questionably cold internal body temperature. For everything.

A mistake neither one of them wanted to make for entirely different reasons.

Killian stands up slowly, careful when he steps into Emma’s space and he’s at least eighty-two percent positive the sun is doing this reflecting thing on purpose. He ignores it, lets his head drop half an inch until his forehead is nearly resting on hers and his heart has made a miraculous recovery, hammering away in his chest like it’s trying to prove a point and—

She turns her head when his fingers graze her cheek, eyes fluttering shut.

“We’ll fix it, Swan,” Killian promises, the words like acid on his tongue. He’s really being the most dramatic groom.

She hums, a quick nod and hint of a smile. “Sounds like a plan.”

And, really, it’s stupid.

It’s idiotic and dumb and wrong, on some sort of fundamental level, but Killian’s moving before he’s even processed any of those words and Emma doesn’t do anything more than exhale softly as son as his lips brush over the crown of her head.

So, points.

Or whatever.

His phone vibrates off the table a few feet away.

By the time Killian reaches his phone Ariel has called fourteen times, which seems a little— “Excessive,” he says, but that only gets him a screech-like sound and he’s not sure how much more of this his body can take.

As a whole.

“Are you kidding me?” “Say words.” “These are words,” Ariel sneers. She’s pacing. He can hear the floor creaking in what he can only imagine is her living room or bedroom and the specifics don’t really matter because she’s far too preoccupied with yelling at him to be concerned with the structural integrity of her house. “These are very—”

“—Opinionated words?” Killian suggests.

“You told me.” “Wait, what?” “Oh not so high and mighty now, are we?” “Ariel, I really do not have time for this. I’ve got to look shit up and—” “—You know it’s Christmas Eve, right? You probably won’t be able to talk to a lawyer today. Or tomorrow for that matter.”

His legs lock, glancing down to make sure his stomach has not actually fallen on the floor. No such luck. That would have been a good excuse for getting off the phone.

“Got you there, don’t I?” “Are you playing games, right now?” “No,” Ariel says, but the way her laugh clings to her voice makes Killian wonder all sorts of things he shouldn’t. If only because they make his blood run a bit cold. Or, colder. He still hasn’t really recovered from the blanket theft.

“Are you?” she adds.

Killian’s going to bite his tongue in half by the end of the day.

Maybe the end of the morning.

“Did I call you last night?” he asks softly, ducking further into the corner like that will stop his voice from traveling across the room.

Emma’s on the phone too.

“Several times,” Ariel replies, not bothering to disguise her laugh anymore. “Each one got progressively more excited. It was honestly almost nice.” “Almost?” “Almost. Because, uh—did you really actually do it?” He’s frozen. Stuck. Stock-still in the corner with the shadow and his own regret and he’s already lost track of the number of times he’s looked at his ring.

Killian’s got to stop thinking of it like that.

It’s far too possessive.

“Your silence is deafening,” Ariel murmurs.

“Shut up.” “The honeymoon’s over, huh?”

“Seriously, shut up.”

“Killian,” Ariel says, voice going placating. He narrows his eyes at open air. “You’re an idiot, you know that?”

“Don’t you have better things to do?”

“Right now? No.”

“You might want to reexamine your priorities.”

“Oh, don’t be a dick. I’m worried about you.”

“Me? Why?”

The breadth of Ariels’ reactionary noises would be impressive in any other situation. As it is, they’re mostly just annoying and Killian needs to take a shower. And down a fistful of Ibuprofen.

“You’re really kidding me, aren’t you?” Ariel challenges. “Oh my God, that’s—how long would you say you’ve been madly in love with your best friend?”

Silence. It’s not his first choice, but his tongue is doing that thing again and Emma’s voice is getting sharper on the other side of the room.

Ariel hums. “It’s so obvious. Even before the elopement. I mean—I was not joking about the messages. You should probably make sure you didn’t take out ad space in whatever the major Las Vegas newspaper is.”

“The Las Vegas Review Journal.” “God, you’re such a dweeb.” “Was this the worry?”

“You love that girl,” Ariel says matter of factly. “And you have forever. And it’s—she is so ridiculously into you—” “—What?” Killian growls, hand going tight enough around his phone that he’s worried he’s going to snap it in half. That might not be the worst thing in the world.

“People do not just marry their best friends.” “There was a lot of alcohol involved.” “What’s that saying about drunk thoughts and actions?” His eyes flicker towards Emma, swallowing back his retort because he wants, wants, wants, with every single fiber of his being and every reason why he hasn’t taken his ring off yet and—

“Silence,” Ariel mutters. “You should tell her at some point that you’d like to date her while you’re married.” “We’re not staying married.” “That’s stupid.” “That’s practical.” “When is romance practical?” “Ariel.” “Killian,” she says, and he rolls his eyes towards the ceiling. It hurts. “You really did sound happy last night.” “You’re getting sentimental on me.” “You’re a martyr, you know that?” “Nah,” he objects. “It’s just—” “—Oh say, it’s complicated, please.” “It is.” Ariel clicks her tongue. “Sure it is. Seriously, you may want to double check on the newspaper ads. And other voicemails. From both of your phones.” He’s going to say something. It will be scathing and it will get the smile he’s sure is taking up most of the space on Ariel’s face to disappear, but then Emma is walking towards him, nerves practically rolling off her in waves. “I, uh—I called Mary Margaret last night.” “Told you,” Ariel yells. Killian snarls into the phone. She cackles.

Emma scrunches her nose. “So, she’s called me like forty-seven times. They’re still trying to get to Logan and apparently Scarlet did get on a flight. Ruby yelled and Belle pleaded and it was a whole thing, so they’re on their way here and—” “—They’re probably bringing gifts,” Ariel shouts.

“Is that Ariel?” Killian hums. “She’s very bored on Christmas break. Mind gone soft and so now she’s just determined to do permanent damage to my hearing and—” “—You are a dick,” Ariel says, making sure to pause between each word. For emphasis.

“Did you call Ariel?” Emma asks.

“Something about good news and it traveling fast.” She lets out a strangled sound between gritted teeth, nose still scrunched and far more attractive than any nose has any right to be. “Keep that in mind because Mary Margaret in all her overprotective wonder passed our tidings of great joy—” “—Look who’s making jokes now.” “She told Regina.”

Killian curses.

“Who was,” Emma continues, “as judgmental as you’d expect her to be, but also full of legal advice and promises that an annulment isn’t just possible, but is exactly what we should be doing and—are you ok?” “Hmmm?” “You’re doing that thing with your face.” “I have no face thing.” “Killian.” “Swan.” “Didn’t we do this before?” “Oh my God, how we were you not already married?” Ariel cries. Killian hangs up on her, stuffing his phone back in his pocket. It buzzes immediately.

“Where’s the inevitable but in this string of instructions?” Killian asks.

Emma smiles. Honest. Real. A little nervous, still, but something almost close to the expression Killian has started to consider his and that’s insane. He’s insane.

God, they’re married.

They are married.

He’s not sure he doesn’t want to be.

“Mind reader.” “Regina wouldn’t be able to make it easy.” “I’m not sure if it’s her or national holidays and our timing,” Emma shrugs. “But, uh—well, she said that we talk to lawyer, figure out the right reason for the annulment and then it shouldn’t take more than two weeks. We just—need it to not be Christmas.” “Meaning?” “Meaning our friends are on their way and we won’t be able to do much about this,” she nods towards his hand, hanging limply at his side, “until December twenty-sixth.” “Right.” “The face.” “No face, love,” Killian says, another slip of the tongue and he’s got to stop. That seems harder than not being in love with her.

Emma quirks an eyebrow. “Mary Margaret said they should be here tonight. But that leaves us—” “—A schedule for today?” “The Nutcracker.” “A ballet?” Emma nods. “And she thought Scarlet would agree to go to that?” “I don’t think he did. There are only four tickets and she’s already sold hers and David’s, so it’s just—” “—Us.” “Us,” Emma repeats.

Killian takes a deep breath, forcing a smile. It doesn’t do much to convince Emma, he knows, but his phone is making noise and his heart is doing its best hummingbird impression.

She hasn’t taken her ring off.

He dimly remembers picking out rings.

With her.

They are married.

“So,” Emma says, “if you want to get ready, then—maybe we could get some breakfast or something?” “Yeah?” “Sounds like you’re double checking that I want to.” “I mean—” “—We’ll fix it,” she cuts in. “But there’s nothing we can really do now and if I don’t shower soon, I may go insane. Killian barks out a laugh. “That’s fair. I’ll meet you—” “—Back here?” “Ok.” “Ok.”

Approximately 12:30 a.m. Christmas Eve

“That one.” “Yeah?” “Is this you double checking?” Emma asks, glancing over her shoulder and there’s something about that exact shade of green in her eyes that has Killian leaning forward, catching her lips with his. They’re definitely in the double-digits, kiss-wise now. He’s not all that inclined to stop, a rush that moves through both of his arms and settles in the base of his heels every single time it happens, like it’s grounding him and sending him into orbit at exactly the same time.

It’s better than he thought it would be.

The way her head tilts and that soft sound she makes, like she’s breathing out any sense of worry or fear, just trying to inhale him instead, light scratches of her nails when her fingers find their way into his hair.

That keeps happening.

He curls an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest.

It leaves them impossibly close, like they’re trying to occupy the same few inches, or maybe just take up a bit more space in each other’s lives and Killian swears his head spins as soon as he feels her tongue brush his.

And the words bubble. They threaten. They rise up the back of his throat, feelings and desire and some rational part of him knows he should say them before they do this, but this seems to be happening and it kind of feels like a roller coaster.

Terrifying and exciting and he hopes he doesn’t lose his sunglasses when they flip upside down.

It’s admittedly a slightly jumbled metaphor.

But.

Then Emma is kissing him and the chapel worker coughs and she might giggle. He hoards the sound away. For later.

Forever.

“That one,” Emma repeats, tapping on the glass case it’s not much more than a thin band of white gold, but it could be her band of white gold and—

“Perfect,” Killian says.

From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Subject: AHAHAHAHAHAHA

AHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHA

IDIOT.

From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Subject: [Empty]

If you mess this up, I may scream. God, you’re an idiot. Did you at least tell her you love her yet?

From: [email protected] To: [email protected] CC: [email protected]

Subject: AHAHAHAHAHAHA PART TWO

David says you didn’t tell her you love her yet?????

Seriously, do you have a brain cell????? Like. One????

From: [email protected] To: [email protected] [email protected] Subject: Re: AHAHAHAHAHAHA PART TWO

Braincell is one word, isn’t it?

From: [email protected] To: [email protected] [email protected] Subject: Re: AHAHAHAHAHAHA PART TWO

Are you….are you kidding me?

From: [email protected] To: [email protected] [email protected] Subject: Re: AHAHAHAHAHAHA PART TWO

Did you both pay for in-flight wifi to do this?

From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Subject: The Idiot

I don’t think he told her he loved her.

From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Subject: Re: The Idiot

Idiot.

He keeps glancing at her.

It’s not all that covert, despite Killian’s best efforts. And, really, he refuses to admit that it’s even remotely his fault, because Emma keeps making quiet sounds that catch his attention, eyes wide whenever a ballerina does something particularly impressive and he’s not sure she’s blinked the entire second act.

He’s cataloguing her reactions.

In a way that isn’t nearly as creepy as it sounds.

In...drunkenly married his best friend on Christmas Eve and can’t unmarry his best friend because of legal bullshit and might be falling a bit more in love with that same best friend while she watches The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairies.

He thinks that’s what this is.

Like ninety-six percent positive.

“You’re missing everything,” Emma mumbles out one side of her mouth.

“No, I’m not.” “If you stare at me any harder, you’re going to drill a hole into the side of my head.” “You’d look weird then.” She muffles her laugh with her hand, sliding further into her seat, but then her eyebrows are flying up her forehead and he can still hear the exact way she gasps when even more dancers appear on stage, a sea of color and swelling music and—

Killian grabs her hand.

Instinct. More than instinct. Head over heels in love with her.

Any of those excuses work, really.

And Emma doesn’t pull her hand away, doesn’t flinch or do anything except lace her fingers around Killian’s, thumb brushing the back of his palm.

Her eyes don’t leave the stage.

Her hand doesn’t leave his.

He genuinely doesn’t remember how Clara got back to her house.

Magic, he assumes. Something about Christmas and—

“Mary Margaret is going to be so disappointed she didn’t see that,” Emma breathes as soon as the curtain falls, head snapping towards Killian. Her eyes are bright again, an excitement there that doesn’t match up with the nerves of the last few hours, but he assumes it might just be more magic, or some kind of something that is inherently them and the power of friendship.

Or, whatever.

He kind of hates that last part. “That was,” Emma says, “Just—God, that was so...pretty.” He grins.

“Oh, don’t make fun.” “I’m not,” Killian objects. “It was very pretty.” She clicks her tongue, thinks he’s teasing her, but it might be the most honest thing he’s said all day. Idiot, Idiot. Idiot. “You didn’t even watch any of it. You laughed at the Rat King.” “Well, that was kind of funny.” “They were threatening!” “I’m sure if I got shrunk down to the size of a toy, I would also think a rat wearing a crown was a threat. And Uncle Drosselmeyer was—” “—Let’s not talk about Uncle Drosselmeyer.” “Because he’s a giant creep?” Emma mutters something that sounds like bah humbug under her breath, standing up to starting moving towards an exit. Her thumb taps against Killian’s. “You’re mixing references, love.” She squeezes his hand.

He thinks. He doesn’t want to imagine that.

But he’s also getting very greedy and he hadn’t taken his ring off and she’s wearing a different dress. Blue this time.

He might give Uncle Drosselmeyer a run for his creep-type money. There’s a joke about slot machines in there, Killian is sure.

“So,” Emma says when they reach the lobby, “what do we do now?” “What else was on Mary Margaret’s schedule?” “I don’t know actually, um—probably dinner, but they all land around seven anyway and—” “—You don’t want to eat without them?” “That’s not a secret me avoiding you thing.” “No?” Killian asks, and he hopes she doesn’t hear the added emotion behind both letters. That would be embarrassing.

More than everything else.

He probably shouldn’t have spent an entire ballet matinee staring at her.

“No,” Emma echoes. She tugs on the front of his jacket, like will make the words ring truer. He’s admittedly staring at her still, though. So.

“You want to play slots again?”

Killian presses his tongue to the inside of his mouth, a flutter of nerves in the pit of his stomach. “A dangerous game, don’t you think?” “We were good at it.” “I don’t know if you can be good at slots, Swan. That’s just—luck and spin ratio and—” “—Oh my God, say spin ratio again please.” “I’m serious.” “I know, so am I.”

He considers that for a moment—lets the sound of her voice settle in the darker corners of his brain, the places only Emma is really aware of, lost moments and could-have-been and Killian is breathing out of his mouth again, but for as fucked up as this whole thing is and will be for the next forty-eight hours, existing in the same space as her has been as easy as ever.

Maybe better.

With white-gold shine added in.

“We’re going to have to get more coins.” “We’re capable of doing that.” “You don’t want to try blackjack or something?” Emma shakes her head. “Nah, the house is always going to wind up screwing you at all those table games and I don’t know how to count cards.” “Is that a requirement?” “Hollywood would suggest it is.” Killian chuckles, the desire to kiss her senseless rushing up his spine. As if that’s not his constant state of being. “Plus,” Emma adds, rocking forward until her head bumps his collarbone, “the slots are more fun with their lights and showmanship and it’s not quite so—” “—So what?” “Serious?” She asks it like she’s not sure she actually wanted to say the word and Killian’s answering inhale is far too sharp, his nod far too brusque. “Right,” he says, and he’d let the analogy go on for too long anyway. “You want to walk to a casino, or��” “—Yeah, that’s fine.” “Cool. Let’s go.”

Approximately 10 p.m., December 23rd

The lights are very loud.

Casinos by their very nature seem very loud. There are people and more people, roulette wheels and sound effects. Drink orders and music playing, shouting and cheering and booing, as if the cards give a fuck about human emotions and Killian’s feeling almost too existential with Emma plastered to his front, demanding more coins for the slot machine they’ve claimed as they’re own.

They win.

They keep winning.

It makes more noise.

And then—

“I like you,” Emma announces, spinning on the spot and her arms are draped over his shoulders and— “Yeah?” “Is this you double checking?” “Something like that,” Killian mumbles. His vision swims, half convinced this is a dream he’s had more than once. “Yeah.” “That was the answer, then?” “Yeah.” “A little more loquacious, love.”

Emma lets out a shaky laugh, color rising in her cheeks and the side of her neck, shuddering slightly when Killian tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. And it all kind of—

“I’d really like to kiss you,” he whispers. “Do it, then.”

He does.

They don’t win.

It seems almost too heavy-handed, an unnecessary message from the universe that they can’t have nice things or simple things and this isn’t either one of those things, but Killian found himself hoping somewhere during the curtain call of the Nutcracker and he’s starting to wonder if they can get their money back from the Chapel of the Bells. He should make a list of everyone he has to call.

They will all be monumentally depressing phone calls.

And Emma keeps sighing, his jacket hanging heavy on her shoulders because it’s Las Vegas, but she’s constantly cold and he’s nothing if not a glutton for punishment. She stuffs another coin into a machine that’s different than the one they played last night and the signs have got to stop. Killian is going to scream.

“Ah, shit,” Emma hisses, kicking a frustrated leg out when the machine shows three different fruits. “That’s—it’s garbage.” “Scathing.” “I’m losing all your money.” “Eh, some of it is yours.” “Is it?” “Mmhm, you didn’t want to carry your wallet and I took some of your cash.” Killian shrugs when Emma gapes at him. “We don’t really have much left, honestly.”

“God, that is so sad.” “Scarlet owes us drinks.” “How do you figure?” “I told him sixteen times he should have gotten on an earlier flight, but—” “—He’s a stubborn ass?” “That, exactly.” Emma chuckles, a little more watery than Killian would like it to be, but he also assumes most casinos are used to crying. Just in general. He needs to stop giving the casino a personality. “He thought it’d be cheaper to fly closer to the holiday. And flying makes him nervous, so—” “—No way.” “Did you not know that?” “No. Although I bet Ruby mocked him mercilessly for that the entire flight.” “What would you bet?” She smiles, teeth finding her lower lip like she’s worried the action is too big. For them. And this moment.

Of complete and utter awkwardness.

Someone wants to use their machine.

“Alright, alright, alright,” Killian growls, an arm around Emma’s waist when he pulls her away. The woman, her coin bucket jangling noisily when she plops onto the plastic seat, grimaces at them, but she doesn’t actually speak and—“Let’s play a different game, love,” he says.

They don’t.

Killian didn’t really expect them to, what with their decreasing funds and a ring on his hand that seems determined to pull him into the Earth and he’s got to say something. He needs to say everything, but saying anything is suddenly the biggest challenge in the world and it is so goddamn loud.

Emma says something anyway.

“I’m sorry.” Killian’s shoulders sag. “What? For...what do you have to be—” “—Is that a joke?” “I’m out of jokes, I think.”

“This isn’t normal.” “No, but—” “—There are no buts here? We got married!” “I was there, Swan.” “Where you? Really? Because we’re just acting like it’s nothing and—” “—What would you rather do?”

It’s another big question. Far too big. Epically big. God, he hopes he doesn’t have to talk to Ariel for a week. She’s going to be insufferable. “Do you honestly not remember how this went?” He can feel his eyebrows lower, confusion rattling down his spine. Emma looks close to distraught. “I just—this made sense. Last night and even before last night and—” She drags both her hands down her cheeks, leaving streaks in her wake and Killian is not breathing. “I asked you to kiss me, Killian! That was—it was all me and—” “—Stop that.” “What?” “We’re going in circles, I think.” “I don’t understand.” “Are you under some impression that I don’t want to kiss you? Constantly?” “What?” “Emma, love, you’ve got to say something else.”

Her whole body sags. She wins. “I don’t—” she stammers, fingers curling around the back of her neck and the chain there and something in the back of his brain startles at that, not used to seeing the metal or the light imprint it leaves on her skin. “You can’t double up on nicknames like that, it’s cheating.” “That’s just your name.” “Yeah, but you’ve got your own thing, don’t you?” “Is that you double checking?” “It might be,” she admits, and there wasn’t that much space between them, but she rocks forward anyway, the toe of her shoes brushing Killian’s. “I—I don’t really remember how we got to the chapel.” “Neither do I, honestly.” “So, no idea who asked who, then?” “Maybe some hope.” The words fall out of him. It feels that way, at least. Part admission, part want, again, Emma’s eyes going wide enough to do damage and Killian doesn’t think. It’s too loud for that, anyway.

He ducks his head, swallowing down his groan when Emma steps on his foot. It’s easy to do that when he’s kissing her instead. His hands find her waist, holding on like he’s battling some kind of romantic tide and he’s barely cognizant of Emma’s eyes fluttering shut before her fingers curl around the front of his shirt, tugging him forward. Killian tilts his head, lets himself fall into a rhythm, far easier than anything else he’s done and if he’s keeping with the water puns, it feels like cresting the surface of a particular strong wave.

That he’d be all too content to drown in.

Emma pushes up again, lets her fingers card through the hair at the back of his neck and he can’t stop moving his own hands, desperate to blaze some kind of path that he’ll think about for the rest of forever.

The word bounces around his brain, leaves bruises and brands and another word that’s inherently more positive than that and— “Heyo, what are we doing here?” Killian is going to commit murder on the first floor of the Bellagio.

Andy Garcia’s character from Ocean’s Eleven will be pissed off.

And the whole lot of them are still holding their luggage, coats draped over arms and matching looks of surprise on their faces. Or so Killian assumes. He’s still staring at Emma, watching the dismay cloud her gaze.

She swallows.

“I’m going to get some air,” Emma announces, not bothering to hand Killian back his jacket. He doesn’t ask for it.

Mary Margaret mutters something undoubtedly encouraging, Ruby’s hand over mouth and Belle swatting at Will while he continues to laugh uproariously. David looks at Killian, stuck to the spot with his heart crumbling and his stomach on a different floor and he doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know how to—

Something hits him.

Not literally. Metaphorically.

Memory...y.

“Did you tell her you love her?” David asks knowingly, and Killian doesn’t nod or shake his head, just kind of twists his neck because— “I’ll be right back.” He runs.

Approximately four in the morning, Christmas Eve

They got married.

Married.

To each other.

Killian’s whole body is thrumming, excitement mixing with everything he’s ever felt for Emma Swan and the questionable amount of alcohol either one of them has ingested. They haven’t taken their clothes off, which he’s sure he’ll be disappointed by eventually, but for now he’s content to lay there, staring up at the ceiling with his wife curled against his side, fingers tracing idle patterns over her arm.

He’s fairly certain she’s asleep.

It’s really why he says what he does. “I love you, Emma.” She doesn’t still, so much as she takes a deep breath, Killian hoping and wanting and—“I love you too, Killian.”

She hasn’t made it very far.

And he shouldn’t take much joy from that, but Killian’s desperate and greedy and he skids to a stop in front of a fountain that isn’t doing fountain things yet. He supposes it’s only a matter of time.

It’s another clunky metaphor.

“Hi,” Killian breathes, Emma’s lips curling up even when she tugs on the chain around her neck. He realizes what’s on it.

Her ring.

He’s glad he didn’t waste time killing Scarlett. It’d be hard to profess his love from jail.

“If I apologize again are you going to freak out?” “Undoubtedly,” Killian nods.

“That’s dumb.” “Your apology? Yes.”

Emma huffs, the ring falling over the front of her dress and the side of his jacket zipper and that kind of messes with his head a little. “This is insane.”

“Unorthodox.” “They all saw us making out in the casino.” “I’d imagine a lot of people did,” Killian reasons, dropping in front of her. “The degenerates come out in droves on national holidays, you know.”

“What happened to being out of jokes?” “It’s a defense mechanism.” “From me?”

She whispers the question, trepidation and nerves and Killian hopes he doesn’t fall over when he lifts his hand. His balance is better sober, though. “I didn’t want to—” “—Marry me?” He’s not holding his breath, so whatever sound he makes is absurd, leaving his forehead resting on Emma’s and her fingers brushing over the side of his jaw, familiar and not and normal and unexpected and absolutely goddamn perfect.

In an unorthodox sort of way.

“Say that again.” “You first.” “God, you’re stubborn, you know that,” he mutters, and Emma smiles, a kiss between his eyebrows. “I—ok, you want to be honest? Let’s be honest. That’s how Christmas works, right?” “Something about naughty and nice and rats.” “No rats, Swan.” “Nutcracker princes?” “Look who’s making jokes now,” Killian grins. He noses at her cheek, like some dam of emotional upheaval has been broken and he can’t stop touching her if he tries. He doesn’t try.

“You didn’t take it off.” “What?” “Your, uh—” Emma says, “your wedding ring. You haven’t—God, I keep looking at it. You’re sure it’s not a magnet?” “Not that I’m aware of, no.” “Weird.” “The weirdest.” “Why didn’t you take it off?”

Killian takes a deep breath, not as nervous as he probably should be because this is the moment and he’s almost surprised they don’t have a larger audience. Mary Margaret might be hiding behind a bush.

“I didn’t want to,” he says. Strictly speaking he wishes he said he more. He wishes there were some ridiculously romantic speech with adjectives and adverbs and every promise he’s ever made to himself when it comes to Emma, but that’s the important part and she’s kissing him.

He can feel her smile against his mouth.

And that’s enough.

By a long shot.

Gambling puns.

Emma pulls him up when she stands, Killian’s palm flat on her back and her fingers tracing as much of him as she can, rocking back and forth until they find a rhythm that might just be them and—

They both yelp when the fountain goes off behind them.

He nearly falls over her. She kicks him in the ankle. They laugh. Loudly. And he’d been right about Mary Margaret.

They’re all there, another round of smiles and practically giddy laughter, hands in the air and shouts of triumph that sound suspiciously like winning the jackpot.

Killian feels that way.

“I didn’t want to,” he repeats, soft enough that only Emma can hear. “I just wanted—” “—Me?” “You, Swan. From the very start. For as long as I can remember. And it’s—you want to go on a date or something?” “Honestly?” “No jokes.” She leans back, eyes wide and as hopeful as he’s ever wanted them to be. About him. And them. Collectively. “I’d like to go on several dates. That end with less clothing. I was really upset about all the clothing last night.” “We can probably work on that.” “Yeah?” “Yeah,” Killian nods. “And I—well, we don’t have to stay this—” “—No, no, that’s...I mean, it’s not the worst thing in the world.” “High praise.” “Something like that,” she agrees. “Just, you know...maybe we can date while we’re—” “—Married,” Killian finishes.

“That’s the first time you’ve said that.” “Why do you know that?” “As if you didn’t.” He kisses her again. He can’t help it. Scarlet whistles. And they do go to dinner eventually, but then Killian’s tugging Emma down a hallway, a mouth against her neck and her fingers working buttons and—

It’s even colder the next morning, a distinct lack of clothing and bedding, but there’s a body against his and a small smile on her face and he lets his eyes close again, hopeful for whatever else they may want together.

Approximately 5:15 p.m. April 17th

He asks her.

For real that time.

It’s sooner than he plans on, but they’ve been married for months and Emma smiles when she kisses him.

He figures that’s the response.

#cs ff #captain swan #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #cs fic #festive prompt a thon #i really did get more prompts than i expected #which is very nice of you internet #and i'm going to try and keep filling them before disney #but some of the christmas prompts may become new year's prompts #ya know what i'm saying???#also all opinions about the nutcracker expressed here are my husbands

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beastiebytes · 7 years

Text

i had a really great weekend

I went to the picnic at the Hellgoat's suggestion.

Recently I've found the only way to make sure I actually work is to have a friend hold my hand figuratively and tell me to start working. Hellgoat has taken over that role, and was extremely helpful in a whole bunch of other ways too: I found myself working for much longer than I have before.

This left me pretty tired, so I was grateful to have Hellgoat suggest to me a social event to unwind at. She herself ended up not coming, due to sudden health issues, but I still had fun.

It was hard, though. I only knew two people in the picnic, and they weren't the organizers. The people there were some kind of mix of the kind of geek I get along great with but constantly fear will turn misogynistic or ableist, and spiritual Burning Man types who I find more difficult to engage with. The conversation kept tilting towards triggering things - and then moving away when I asked or expressed discomfort.

After the picnic, I asked the friend I brought with me how she felt about stopping at the Hellgoat or Vorlon's house for coffee before we head home. She agreed enthusiastically.

Hellgoat and her husband Plat turned out to be in Vorlon and Trie's house anyway, unsurprisingly. Vorlon, Trie, Hellgoat and Plat are a quad.

Vorlon and I were cuddle buddies, and briefly fuck buddies, ten years ago. I wasn't actually attracted to him, but didn't figure this out until we'd had sex several times and I kept feeling shitty afterwards. We grew apart when I started dating my darling.

A while back, in a queer online group I'm in, I ranted about the lack of queer people in the local BDSM scene; Hellgoat was one of the people who contacted me to say that some queer people had their own events, and was I interested...?

I reconnected with Vorlon then, and remembered the reason he and I made such great cuddle buddies to begin with. Hellgoat and Vorlon's events turned out to be some of the social gatherings I felt happy and most comfortable in. Their friends were the mixture of geeky and feminist I was happiest with, and Vorlon and Trie's living room sofas could open into a cuddle pit where a whole bunch of people flopped on one another.

After a whole day of meeting new people, unsure of which social script to adopt at any point, showing up at Trie and Vorlon's house was a relief. I knew that whatever happened - they would understand that even if I sometimes failed to hear soft 'no's, or said the wrong thing, I really didn't want to hurt anyone and would appreciate being told not to do things that hurt people.

Hellgoat took me aside to discuss our work for a bit; it wasn't an easy conversation. She has some issues with my boss. "I'm too forceful in work situations," she said, "I don't know how not to be."

It sounded odd to me, since she hasn't felt forceful at all to me.

"Oh, I'm forceful with you," she said. "I'm just not aggressive or mean. When you start going off on tangents or distracting yourself I cut you off and redirect you."

I got it then. She was forceful: but she was using her power to help direct me where I wanted to go, so it hadn't occurred to me to call it that. And when I stalled or got stuck, she trusted that I had a good reason, and stopped until we could clear up the issue.

After the conversation, we went back to the living room. The cuddle pit was already spread out, and Trie lay alone on one of the mattresses. I joined her; I have a very embarrassing subby crush on Trie, have had for a while now. Trie is quiet and gentle right up until she starts scratching and grabbing and biting, and her fingernails running down the short hair on my undercut feels wonderful.

At some point, Hellgoat showed us some bondage straps that she ran into while cleaning their house that day. (Their cleaner found them and gave Hellgoat and Plat a very "I'm not judging" look, apparently.) Basically it was a fabric velcro-closed cuff at the end of a fabric strap, so of course I asked if I could put it on.

It was soft and nice, and I tugged the strap and sighed and smiled, and tugged it again and again.

"Aw, that's so cute," Trie said, and, "Can I?" She gestured at the strap.

I might have gone a little starry-eyes at that point. "Ooh, please."

It's possible I got kinda breathy. She might have grabbed my hair and pulled, too, at which point I definitely made some unusual sounds.

I blurted out, "You know, if you felt like putting a collar and a lead on me and pulled me around I'd really like that," because it seemed likelier to help than hurt.

At which point Hellgoat piped up: "Actually..."

She brought out a red, braided fabric cloth belt, and the other bondage strap. We might have gotten busy at that point, but someone felt it a good opportunity to make a really awful pun that broke the mood for a tiny bit.

That was nice, though, in and of itself. It was nice that we could make jokes, and even if the kinky or sexy mood broke, I was still cuddling Trie and Vorlon and sometimes Hellgoat when she came close enough. I periodically nuzzled Trie's hands, her stomach, any part of her within reach, and whenever I did she'd grab me tight until I felt undeniably wanted. She kept laughing when I scrunched my nose, and she let me kiss her hands and kissed my face in turn.

Vorlon petted me, too, and occasionally pulled my hair. I figured blurting things worked for me, so I sat up and told Trie, "I kind of have a huge subby crush on you."

"I figured," she said, snorting a little.

"I'm sexually attracted to you, I think," I told her. "I'm not sexually attracted to you," I told Vorlon. "But I really like cuddling you and hanging out with you and you can pull my hair if you want to, I think I like that. Is that okay? Are you upset?"

The resulting cuddle pile was a pretty definitive answer.

There was more I wanted to say, but that part was difficult to express, words sticking in my throat. "Okay, let's see if I can say this." I took a breath. They gave me time. "I - I think I want to do sexual things with Dommes? But I don't know what. My brain just fades to black at that point. I think it feels too disrespectful to even imagine until I've had someone express a sexual interest in me."

That or rejection would be too painful: po-ta-to, po-tah-to.

Trie's hand in my hair tightened, and I made a sound. "I think we can figure some things out."

We had to take care of some things - I left my phone in the car and had to go get it, and take meds, and Vorlon and Trie had stuff around the house they occasionally left to attend to. Eventually we got back to the cuddle pit, and I found the red cloth belt and made puppy eyes for Hellgoat to put it on me.

I really love having collars and cuffs put on me. It makes me feel cared for. Like they want to keep me, and care for my upkeep. It really helped that after the belt was around my neck, Trie took it in her hand and pulled.

I've never had that. I've had people pulling on my collar once before, and I loved that. The belt was new, and Trie curled it around her hand, and it felt like her taking my entire attention in my hand and pulling it exactly where I wanted it to be.

She got up and pulled me after her. I went on hands and knees. "I need kneepads," I mentioned absent-mindedly. I didn't mind that it hurt, exactly, but Trie and Vorlon kept worrying when cuddle positions put me on my knees on the bare floor. It was hard to explain why I got in those positions anyway. I definitely didn't mind when they slid me a pillow, though.

I also couldn't really look where I was going. My eyes kept closing; I didn't want to think about anything but Trie and following. So she led me a little bit down the hall, then took me back to the cuddle pile, where Vorlon was doing something painful to Hellgoat that she liked a lot.

I've bitten Hellgoat before and she liked that; I asked, got approval, and started chewing on her breasts. Hellgoat is one of those fortunate people who can come just from pain. It's very satisfying to bite her: I don't have to be too careful about how hard since her limits are really high, and she squeals and it's very fun.

Trie got on Hellgoat's other side, and I wanted to see what she was doing. Or, you know, nuzzle her some more. That was great, it got her to pull on my lead and my hair, and when I hugged Trie she'd hug me back harder. I asked if I could bite her, she said no; I wasn't really expecting a yes: Trie is pretty sensitive and not in a way where she enjoys intense sensations.

I wound up with my upper body in Trie's lap, my lead between Hellgoat's teeth, and Trie and Vorlon scratching my back. I was shirtless from before, I took it off while cuddling with Vorlon. (They're all pretty nudist there, and nudity and sex are very disparate to them; my darling is actually the same, so while at first I had reservations about cuddling a guy topless, my darling doesn't mind and I decided I wanted the skin contact.)

Apparently Hellbeast's expression was really great, so Vorlon asked my permission to take a picture of the whole thing on his phone and show it to me. I agreed, and: yes, Hellgoat was grinning hugely and looking very happy, but I also really loved how my back looked in Trie's lap, with the belt around my neck, so I ended up taking off my bra and asking him to take another picture.

...Then Trie and him scratched me some more, and I'm not sure if the picture was actually taken. I hope so; the marks should be pretty epic.

I got back to biting Hellgoat, but then Trie was behind me so I turned around; I wound up with my head on Hellgoat's belly while she was sucking off Vorlon, and Trie straddling my lap. (She asked if it was okay to sit on me first.)

I touched Trie gently, worried about hurting her. She seemed to like deep touches if they weren't too massage-like; I think she liked the reverence I felt when I touched her. She was grinding down on me. Her soft cotton dress climbed up, and her panties were showing. I kept smelling her every time I put my head in her lap, and kind of wistful that she didn't like people going down on her.

I touched her through her panties, gentle, and when she seemed to like started petting her under the panties. She was very wet, and I was as careful as I could be. For a few minutes she thrust her hips against my fingers. She grabbed my breasts and squeezed, painful; I didn't really notice, too wrapped up in her expression, in what looked like her building orgasm.

Eventually she gasped, grabbed my wrist and shook her head, and I moved my hand away. I'm not sure if she came, but it definitely seemed like she'd had a good time, so I was pretty happy with that.

Plat started making vague noises about getting food at that point. Everyone basically told him "five minutes", and I had the bright idea of asking, "How many times can Hellgoat come in five minutes?" So we all set about finding that out.

Afterwards, while people were getting dressed, I found myself with my head in Trie's lap again, overwhelmed. My brain kept telling me that what just happened couldn't have, and I was trying very hard to tell it to shut up.

We went out to an all-night burger place, and Trie and Hellgoat got in the car with me so I could process at them and they could make sure I wouldn't get lost. By the time we finished eating, I felt pretty okay again: food and water and hugs and friendly conversation all helped.

Vorlon gave me a really big hug before we left. "Thank you for coming over," he said.

"Thanks for inviting me." It felt like oversharing, but I still wanted to tell him: "I feel really good at your place. After all these new people today, I was really glad to just go somewhere where I knew people like me."

In hindsight, it almost felt like a reward: known safety and hugs, after I took the risk of venturing and meeting new people, after I worked hard all week. Having the effort I made known, appreciated, rewarded.

#D/s #collar #hair pulling #communication #polyamory #F/nb #masochism #biting #F/f #M/f #my scenes #kneeling #i post #the M/f is pretty background though #cuddling

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graykaren333 · 4 years

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Kris’ Defense (tldr :)

So lately I had been feeling increasingly indifferent toward Kris. I mean don’t get me wrong, he’ll always be my main man, but he was pretty much hanging on by a thread as my ultimate bias because of nolstalgia and because I’m loyal af. He just hasn’t been doing all that much stuff in the public eye that peaked my interest (i.e. he’s mostly been making appearances at Chinese public festivals) and props to him for being able to lead the life he wants to without having to constantly be in the public eye but that’s a rant for another day. He’s existing in the world somewhere and knowing that makes me happy, but I havent’ been investing much time or energy in him lately compared to other k-idols, to the point that I found myself questioning if he was still my ultimate bias. BUT. BUT THEN THIS HAPPENED.

I’ve been getting into podcasts lately and there’s this one that I’ve been listening to about k-pop. It’s not about the two hosts just fangirling over their biases because that would be boring af to listen to. It’s highly researched and informative and they basically examine all these nuanced and intricate aspects of the k-pop industry and just go into detail abut it and it’s so fascinating. I was so looking forward to their ‘Contracts Disputes’ episode to see what all they’d say about Kris’ situation. I was fully expecting them to be like, “So Kris reportedly had this physical health condition and shame on you SM for not taking care of your idols. The end. Next.” But no.

As someone who has done a shit-tone of research on topics that I am passionate about, the most sure-fire way to offend me is to basically say to me about one of those topics, “I’ve looked into this issue for all of five minutes and because I took the time to look into it for five minutes I am obviously the expert on this topic and am going to school you on this” when it’s a topic that I have literally done five weeks of research on and the person proceeds to get most of the details wrong. Yeah, so this was one of those times. I sat there in numb shock listening to the hosts basically proceed to trash Kris.

They pretty much started by saying, “When Kris first issued his statement about trying to terminate his contract, he just threw out some random medical diagnosis of myocarditis as a reason he was terminating his contract but then in an interview in 2017 he cited the reason as being creative differences so his story changed over time and that’s shady.” They basically accused him of lying in his initial statement. However, their statement was a gross misrepresentation of the facts. First of all, they make it seem like Kris randomly mentioned the medical diagnosis in passing without much forethought as though it was some random post on his social media account. But this was an official statement released by Kris’ lawyers on behalf of Kris which means that Kris didn’t unilaterally decide on what to include in the statement but was receiving legal guidance on what to say. And why would his lawyers advise him to lie about something personal like a medical diagnosis in such a public way??? Including a medical diagnosis in his statement (especially if it was a lie) was very risky because it polarized the issue and even caused the majority of k netizens to accuse him of trying to play the sympathy card.

Second, the ladies in the podcast act like his story changed over time. This is also inaccurate. In his original statement, Kris cited BOTH his health issues and artistic/creative differences as being reasons for his termination lawsuit. From then on out he nevet mentioned his myocarditis diagnosis again. Why? BECAUSE MAYBE HE DIDN’T WANT TO GO ON PUBLIC RECORD TRASHING HIS FORMER COMPANY, AND BY EXTENSION ALL OF K-POP, YEARS AFTER THE FACT. That actually kind of makes sense, doesn’t it? Maybe he was trying to take the high road and not drag SM’s name through the mud years after the fact but actually help SM save face a little, a courtesy that they never returned to him. In his statement, Kris stated that his side would give no further comment about the situation since it was still pending at the time, yet Kris has continued to take the high road years after the contract dispute has been settled. When he is asked about the situation in an interview, he cites artistic differences but has never breathed a word about his myocarditis diagnosis. That doesn’t mean that his initial statement on his medical diagnosis was not true, but that he simply chose to not talk about that reason for his termination in future public conversations going forward. What would you have wanted him to say anyway? “Yeah I left SM because they literally wouldn’t let me fucking take care of my fucking health even after I literally got a fucking diagnosis that could have fucking killed me if not properly treated.” Because from what I’ve seen that’s basically what happened. So let’s dig into that a little bit, shall we? I’m not going off of Kris’ word alone.

I lived through this whole lawsuit/counter lawsuit/contract termination fiasco as a Kris bias so in real time as it was happening, I was digging into the far recesses of the internet to find out more details about the situation (some of which may very well no longer be available on the internet today) and it didn’t take long to scratch the surface to reveal the cesspool that was how SM was treating Kris. Kris’ Chinese fans who saw him promoting in China every day were vocal even before the lawsuit about the many ways SM management employees were treating Kris increasingly vindictively, even compared to the other Chinese members, in the months leading up to the lawsuit (which fits with Kris’ timeline given in his statement concerning him trying to address the artistic differences with the company, and then the company responded this way because SM is a vindictive pos company). And this is on top of SM already being notorious for treating their Chinese members badly (see Super Junior’s Hangeng’s statements about those dynamics after he left SM). It’s not racism necessarily, it’s just that the proper labor unions haven’t been set up between the two countries for Chinese working in Korea (it’s a whole thing), so SM basically treats them however because they can. Beyond that, getting into the specifics of his diagnosis, there were pictures of Kris at a heart specialist in China. There were also pictures of several occasions where Kris was carrying heart medication. There were rampant rumors among Kris’ Chinese fans of his bad physical health such as him throwing up in the bathroom before or after performances. But all of the worst of this was happening over in China, with k netizens neither knowing the full details nor caring to get acquainted with them. After his lawsuit came out, there were videos posted and gifs posted showing Kris clutching at his chest after performances or running just offstage immediately after performances leaning over his knees and pounding his chest (I don’t know how much of that is still available on the internet today). I don’t know about you, but that sounds like a special kind of hell if you ask me. So yes, I believe he was being honest in his official statement.

On a slightly less offensive note, the ladies on this podcast when on to say, “yeah when we watched EXO’s Showtime (a documentary-style TV show) we weren’t impressed with Kris. Sometimes he would choose to have fun and interact with the members, but most of the time he just kind of acted like he was better than everyone else and deserved more than he was getting.” Ok so now they are judging his personality which is also highly offensive. In more recent Chinese interviews, Kris has gone on record saying that he’s reserved and can come across as being aloof when he first meets someone but when he feels comfortable around them he can get very talkative and engaged. He’s basically saying he’s and introvert. Seeing him through this introvert frame-of-reference makes all his interactions with the other EXO members and his pattern of behavior on EXO’s Showtime make sense. In fact, what originally drew me to Kris was seeing his behavior on EXO’s Showtime and how his reactions to situations were exactly how I would have reacted if I had been in his shoes. A long roadtrip to the sea? I’ll be in the back sleeping, thanks. Already met my peopling quota for today several hours ago, thanks. Or the fact that he would literally zone out all the time (and he was notorious for that in general). To me, that showed that in that moment, his brain was overstimulated from constantly have to be in the spotlight and interact. Those of us who are introverts can be easily be misunderstood as being stuck-up or snobby when the truth is we are simply tired out from being around people. If you can’t leave the situation, what other option do you have but to zone out?

Also, his physical health dynamics could have played a part in how frequently he zoned out. If you have never dealt with a chronic physical health concern you CANNOT understand the degree to which it can impact you mentally and emotionally. The fear of the unknown. Its ongoing nature. Worrying about a flare-up. Trying to decide how to best handle it when you are in the middle of a flare-up (is this actually a flare-up or am I just over-interpreting my body? Should I ignore it or go through the hassle of going to the doctor this time?). Some days it’s not on your mind at all, but other days it’s constantly in the back of your mind, pulling you away from being able to be fully present.

The final mistake I noticed from the podcast is how they portrayed Kris’ home life situation. THEY EVEN GOT THAT FUCKING WRONG (which at this point should have hardly been surprising to me, honestly). They said mostly as an anecdotal side comment to try to make sense of Kris’ pattern of behavior on EXO’s Showtime, “When Kris filed his lawsuit, his dad also ended up issuing a statement that was all like ‘my son deserves better than to be in EXO’ so I’m just wondering if Kris was listening to his dad a lot and that attitude impacted how he interacted with the other EXO members.” As if Kris and his dad were pal-ing around on the weekends. Yeah, no. Kris has gone on record numerous times throughout his career stating that he has only met his dad a handful of times in his entire life (which the podcast ladies would have known if they had done a simple google search). He was raised by his single mother, dirt poor. Not an entitled bone in his body. He simply expected to be treated like a human being, not a work horse. (I don’t remember if his dad did issue a statement or not but regardless, his dad had zero influence over Kris’ interaction with the other EXO members or Kris leaving EXO). But please, tell me more about how much you know about Kris. Final conclusion: He’s still my ultimate bias and this experience has reminded me of why he is!

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