Everything I Can Never Have

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You can thank Flash for this. 

Or burn him at the stake for it. 

Either way, thanks to him, I’m posting a scene from my latest story/novel/thing. 

Well, actually it’s more of a short story spinoff thing. I was writing about the background of one of the characters in the story/novel/thing and one thing lead to another and I ended up writing a short story.

Which includes a sex scene at the end.

Also, yes Flash, that’s what I named you. Welcome to my blog. Don’t bother stalking it for new posts because you’ll only see one once every blue moon. Blame Year 12.

And no Daniel, you cannot toast marshmallows on Flash’s bonfire.

Let’s go.

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“I don’t love her…” grumbled Xavier. 

“Well you’re going to have to. You want to be a humanitarian, you need money. Which your parents won’t give to you if you refuse to marry her.”

“Oh I can marry her.” He rolled his eyes. “What’s a few more lies? Yes, I am interested in attending that gala. Of course I like that decor, put it all over our home. Yes, I love you and want and spend the rest of my life with you.”

Cassidy sighed. “You shouldn’t have let your parents meet her if you despise her so much.”

“Oh, I didn’t introduce her. She conveniently found a book that I left behind and went to my house to drop it off. When I got back from work, she had them eating out of her hand.”

She let out a long whistle. “She’s that good, huh?”

Xavier groaned. “Yeah, she’s everything they dreamed of. Well groomed, impeccable manners, and most importantly, our children will be physically perfect.”

“And boring as batshit. Here’s an idea, after she gives the Augustine line their precious offspring, set her up in the most public, most scandalous affair you can imagine. Mummy and Daddy will rush to remove her from the family portrait.”

“And tarnish the reputation of our children? Have them questioning their parentage? My parents have enough trouble keeping us in line already.” 

She stuck her tongue out at him. “You’re boring too.”

He ignored her. “Not to mention the bullying and psychological damage that years of name calling would cause. It would be less traumatic for them if she died.” 

Cassidy glanced around her apartment. “Since there’s no wood to knock on…” She tapped on the glass coffee table. Xavier rolled his eyes at her. “Would your wife even be interested in raising your children?” she asked, a slow smile spreading across her lips. “Maybe you’ll be needing a nanny. Think Mummy would recognise me?” 

Xavier shook his head, smiling. “Oh they’ve never forgotten you. And you’d never be able to remain civil and polite for so long. There’s also the fact that you hate children.”

“Not if I had to push them out of me, I wouldn’t. But I can deal with other people’s children fine. Just don’t make me give birth to one.”

“Isn’t that half the joy for women? Experiencing the miracle of birth?”

“This is why you need someone like me as a nanny. Otherwise your children are going to grow up stupid,” she told him. 

“I think the term is idealistic.” Xavier wasn’t at all put off by Cassidy’s insult.

“As I was saying…” Cassidy was ignoring him. “If I had a baby, I’d probably go under watch for post natal depression, knowing my parents’ history. And your soon to be fiancĂ© is probably the same.”

“You don’t know that,” Xavier said.

“You said it before; she’s an air headed snob, she’s probably never even heard of it. I bet that she’s never going to give you head.”

“Oh, the horror,” Xavier said dryly. “I don’t believe I can handle such a torturous fate!”

The doorbell rang. Before he could say anything, Cassidy threw a blanket over Xander’s head before answering it. Xander rolled his eyes and smiled. He could fall asleep like this, on Cassie’s couch. He was even beginning to drift off when she plopped herself next to him. “I come with unhealthy peasant food!” she announced, handing him plastic container filled with rice and a bright red sauce. “Don’t tell Mummy.”

“I eat this all the time, I’m not that sheltered,” he told her. “Now go put on the movie.”

“Whatever you say, your highness,” Cassidy rolled her eyes as she got up.

“Did Matthew have the pleasure of being called ‘your highness’?” he asked provocatively.

“Of course not, he’s an asshole,” she retorted. “The only reason I call you ‘your highness’ is because it makes you laugh, which is better than you being a poor little rich boy.” The opening credits started playing, and she went to go dim the lights. When old Zachary began his story, she finally returned with the bottle of wine. “I’ve got a feeling I’m going to need a lot of this,” she informed him, settling down with her curry. 

“You’ll enjoy it,” Xavier reassured her.

She did, much to Xavier’s satisfaction. It was so rare to find a movie that she could sit through without getting bored, though she did come up with a drinking game for it; drink every time the sextet plays, a magic birthmark appears, or you recognise an actor playing more than one character. By the end of it, the bottle was empty, and she was snuggled against him. “You’re so much more cuddly when you’re plastered,” Xavier informed her.

“Am not,” she mumbled, not making any attempt to move herself from her current position. “And so are you.”

He smiled in the dark. The only sound that could be heard was their steady breathing. It was peaceful.

“You’ve never done it before, have you?” she asked softly. There was no teasing in her voice this time.

“Of course not,” he replied. “Girls were terrifying in high school. And now that I’m considered old enough to carry on the lineage, I’m not allowed to get into any ‘scandals’. Not that I was before. Surely you know this?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I guess it only sank in when I saw you watch Chang and Sonmi.” She looked up at him, almost gentle. “You’re a romantic. The worst thing you can be in this world.”

Xavier rolled his eyes. “Pessimist.”

There was silence. “Have you ever wanted to?”

“Do what?”

“Don’t be so naive. You know what I’m talking about.”

He looked down at her. “Of course I have.”

“What stopped you?”

“.,.fear?” It sounded more like he was asking.

“Fear?”

“I don’t know!” he said impatiently. “It’s harder than you make it out be. The possibility that she’d laugh in your face is terrifying. And why would she even both with you? She’s beautiful and unattainable, and you’re just this scared guy she probably hates.”

“Why would she hate you?” She frowned. 

Xavier was about to respond, but he cut himself off. He searched desperately for a suitable answer. “You know how it is,” he said weakly. “Girls are proud…haughty…you know? And it’s a fucking private school too, so they’re worse.”

“…ah.” She went quiet again.

Xavier went on. “I’m not like you. I’m scared of what will happen if I do something I shouldn’t. I’m scared of messing up permanently, and losing everything I love as a result. And-” His lips were suddenly covered by her palm. He stared at her in shock, before the blood rushed to his face. 

She wouldn’t look away from him. “You shouldn’t think so much,” she informed him. “If you want something, you should take it. In that regard you should be more like your family.” She took her hand down from his face, and rested it on his shoulder. He was frozen, completely entranced. “Don’t be scared of me. If you don’t want something, tell me, and I’ll stop. And I won’t mind if you do.” She looked deep into his eyes, waiting for affirmation.

He swallowed, closing his eyes. Despite the pit in his stomach, the hammering of his heartbeat against his chest, there was a part of him that was screaming at him to accept. Despite that, the words of loyalty were on the tip of his tongue. I can’t do that to Annabelle…My family will kill me… “I…” 

“I don’t want anything from you,” Cassidy insisted. “I don’t care if you walk out of here and never contact me again. But…if I can help you this way…”

“How…how is this helping?”

This time, it was Cassidy going still. “I…I want to show you what it’s like. When…it doesn’t have to be a chore. And…” Another pause. “…I want your first time to be with me,” she admitted. 

Xavier opened his eyes. She was looking away from him, her long hair hiding her colourless face. She moved her hand from his shoulder and stood up, almost robotically, clearing the coffee table of the empty takeout containers and wine glasses. The lights came on, and she went to the kitchen, leaving Xavier alone. 

The sane part him turned to the door, listing to him all the reasons that this shouldn’t happen. What would they do if they knew? His parents saw her as a corrupting force, a gold digging hobo who would bring nothing but scandal. They’d destroy her if they knew that she…that he had let her…

He wasn’t ready for this. Truth be told, he wasn’t even sure he’d be ready on his wedding night. All of his weaknesses- his shyness, his complete lack of self confidence- would be on full display. He was terrified of looking foolish, and he knew that Annabelle would rip him to shreds if he did. He thought of Cassie’s teasing and bitter remarks. Would she be just as critical as a lover? He didn’t know. 

But he did know that he felt more like himself around Cassidy than he ever would with Annabelle.

He stood up. He wished that he was normal, that something like this would come easily to him. His voice came out a stammer. “Cassie…”

She didn’t respond. He walked over to the kitchen, where she was rinsing the pan of failed casserole. “I know you can hear me,” he told her. Cassidy said nothing, but she inclined her head slightly. Xavier breathed in. “I don’t know what to do,” he confessed.

“That’s fine,” she said. “You don’t have to make yourself do-” 

“No, I mean, I don’t know what to do,” he interrupted. “I mean…I don’t know what sort of things that I’m meant to do, or how I’m meant to touch you. But…” He nearly jumped when Cassidy suddenly looked over her shoulder, but he quickly regained control. He inhaled. “But…I want to. And I want…”

She turned her whole body away from the sink then. “Do you want me to show you?” she asked directly. She made no move to touch him, however.

So Xavier took a small step forward. When she wasn’t wearing heels, they stood eye to eye. He breathed in, averting his eyes. “Yes…I do,” he said, ignoring the discomfort in his stomach. “But…just so you know, I probably won’t be any good,” he added hurriedly.

Her lips curled into a small smile. “I wouldn’t expect you to be,” she told him. “But that’s okay.” She glanced downward, and raised her hand to the laces of her shirt. 

Xavier’s hand came over hers, stopping it. Before she could say anything, he cupped her face and pressed his lips against hers, losing himself in the warmth of her skin. She feels and smells like summer, he thought, before his hand found her neck and he lowered his head to nuzzle into the softness, planting kisses against the base of her throat. He could feel Cassidy sway slightly, before suddenly tightening her grip on his hand. He looked up at her, feeling the heat come back to his face, and any confidence he had gained from kissing her retreated to the back of his mind. 

She noticed his discomfort and smiled reassuringly. She leant in again, for another kiss, and Xavier was suddenly aware of his zipper being pulled down, and the warmth of her fingers searching around the fabric of his-

He let out a yelp, as if he was a scared little puppy instead of a grown man. He felt the blood rush to his face, praying that Cassidy wouldn’t laugh. Their eyes met, and his chest tightened, as he felt the urge to bolt. Her hand backed away, but he was still trembling from her touch. “May I?” she asked gently. When he didn’t answer, she released his hand and rested it against his face, waiting again.

Xavier took in another deep breath, and nodded. In case that wasn’t enough for her, he put his hands on her waist, pulling her towards him. His lips found her again, and she relaxed quickly. Her fingers traced the edge of his waistband, Xavier’s breaths becoming shorter and shorter the further her hand went. When she first stroked him, he couldn’t help but shudder, gripping onto her like a lifeline. Her hand kept going, and just when Xavier thought he’d fall apart, she stepped away from him, chuckling slightly as he groaned in frustration. Finally there was a trace of the Cassie he was used to. He didn’t stop her as she stripped off her shirt and her shorts, nor when she wrapped herself around him, drawing him to the kitchen bench where she hopped up and looked down at him with eyes almost black, though there was still that slither of silver at the edge.

Forgetting everything, forgetting his promises, forgetting his duty, Xavier crushed her against him, kissing her breasts through the thin fabric of her bra and cupping her mound with his hand. His fingers pushed aside the flimsy underwear, running one down the entrance of her sex. When she let out a sigh, he looked up, surprised. Cassidy looked just as shocked, though she instantly recovered, making her face as neutral as possible. “I’m the one who should do the teasing,” she murmured. She wouldn’t look at him.

Xavier felt like grinning, but then her hand was stroking him again, and the pit in his stomach returned. Her grip was tighter than before, but it definitely wasn’t unpleasant. “Does this feel good? Or do you want more than this?” she asked him, taking back control.

Her touch was so warm, so tantalising that it made Xavier ache. “Please…” he managed to speak.

“Do you want to?”

“…yes.” He took the hand that was rubbing him, hesitating. No matter what Cassie said, he couldn’t stop now; the line had already been crossed. He did his best to ignore his heart throbbing in his chest, as he held her by her hips and finally buried himself inside her, sealing away his soul.

Madness took over. He grabbed her legs, kissing her frantically as he drove into her again and again. All his fear had vanished. The threat of his family was gone. The only thing that existed was the skinny little homeless girl he met three years ago- who now writhed beneath him on the granite benchtop, calling out his name. 

It had never been that simple though, and from that moment on, there would be absolutely nothing that could’ve described what she meant to him. The moment he finally collapsed into her, her name spilling out from his lips, Xavier could’ve died then and died happy. Instead, they slid onto the kitchen floor, wrapped in each other’s embrace. Neither of them wanted to move, especially him. For that moment of time, he had everything that he could ever want, and everything that he would never be allowed to have.

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Addicted

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Things I have been/am not currently addicted to:

1- Delirium. Can you really blame me? It was a place where I could be strong and courageous instead of weak and useless. It gave me the opportunity to be this unstoppable force, and there was no better feeling.

2- Junk food. Then I decided that I’d hate myself even more if I was fat as well.

3- Cutting. This was back when I first tried to kill myself. I still couldn’t feel after that, and it took Daniel to make me snap out of it, another more powerful addiction.

4- Cracking my knuckles. I was even younger when I had this habit. For some reason, I always did it while playing video games. I don’t anymore.
Things I’m afraid of getting addicted to. A much longer list.

1- Prescription Medicine. Hence why I don’t take it. Probably should, but I’m too scared of the potential side effects, not to mention my negative history with St Johns Wort.

2- Sex. It’s not that I’ve got a problem with it, I just worry about the situations I could potentially get myself in because of it. And I can only think of the problems that it would cause if, for some reason, I happened to be in a relationship.

3- Not-so-Prescription Medicine. Ie, drugs. Togami mentions occasionally that one day I’ll be interested in experimenting, but right now, I’m too scared of permanently fucking up my already fucked up mental state to try.

4- Alcohol. Not likely, considering how the taste of my first drink wasn’t that good. But if I find a nice tasting alcoholic beverage, then this is likely to change.

5- Self Harm. If I am in that place where I have to mutilate my body just to gain some twisted sense of fulfilment, I’m checking myself into hospital. The end.

6- Shopping. I really don’t have that much money that I can afford to splurge it on luxuries like shoes and tea and corsets. If I’m going to be able to move out of home, I need to moderate.

7- Violence. I know that I’ve got that streak inside me. Right now, it festers as passive-agressiveness. And that’s where I want it to stay.
What I’m currently addicted to:

1- Modelling. I like people thinking that I’m beautiful. I like thinking that I’m beautiful. But I’m only capable of being that in front of a camera, and god knows for how long.

2- Friends. Mainly because if I’m by myself for too long, I’ll remember all the various reasons why I hate myself, which can contribute to why I don’t have friends in the first place.

3- Daniel. Probably the one lifeline I actually have. But what sort of life am I going to have if I can’t live without my imaginary best friend?

4- Anxiety. I thrive on those panic attacks where I can feel everything, pain and pleasure. I love to feel my heart race, to gulp down freezing cold air, right before my breathing gives out and I collapse from the feel of everything.

5- Depression. When the anxiety attack I’m hoping for just won’t come, I’ll just go lower and lower until I hit rock bottom and it hurts. Because then I’ll finally remember what better feels like.

6- Love. The scariest drug of them all.

My whole existence is a series of addictions, one after the other.

Cats and Bondage

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Also known as why I choose to be wary of badly written fanfiction/Fifty Shades of Grey.

By the way, the books are terrible, as is the movie. I wouldn’t feel the need to bring it up if it weren’t for the massive outcry that it portrays BDSM in the wrong way. If human beings were an intelligent species, then this would go without saying; this is literally fanfiction from Twilight. A number of things should become apparent from this knowledge; A, it features an average ordinary girl who has the personality of a dishcloth, and a Heathcliff. 

As for why I despise Heathcliff, let us leave that for another random blog post. That might take too long.

B, It is pure fantasy. The entire purpose for fanfiction is so that fans can create the story that they want from the given source material. Aka, FANTASY. Whether or not it applies to aforementioned source material/reality does not matter.

C, More often than not…the fanfiction isn’t that good. Especially fanfiction that’s based on a typical young adult novel that involves romance. Because the writer in question (I’d put writer in inverted commas if it weren’t for the backlash I’d receive from nonexistent readers for the characterisation) is often prone to creating an idealised version of themselves as the character. This is called a Mary Sue, and it’s that stereotype that makes up the Bellas and Anas in the world. Anyway, the reason why this is bad for stories is that when the story revolves around aforementioned Mary Sue, it creates an atmosphere where you already know what’s going to happen. Things will always wind up in her favour, whether she actually deserves it or not. Supporting cast will always support her, apart from obvious antagonists. Eventually, you’ll get sick of the story, and the Mary Sue. Or worse, you’ll love her, and act exactly the same way.

Okay, so now you’ve realised these three things, this is what you should understand from this; this is a fantasy, and therefore, you should not take this as a literal representation of BDSM, or relationships for that matter. It’s okay to enjoy it, and to be curious about dominant-submissive relationships, but you have to remember that this is a work of fiction, and the rules of reality don’t apply here.

This would go without saying if humans in this universe had more than two brain cells. However…it appears it’s not the case. As a result, impressionable women are seeing Christian Grey as their ideal man, which is not a healthy thing to be believing.

I think the appeal is partly because of the ‘bad boy that can be tamed by the sweet girl’ trope. Like Beauty and the Beast. For Fifty Shades of Grey, it’s the ‘shattered individual is healed by the sweet girl’s vagina’ trope. And I can understand the appeal; people want to believe in something as idealistic as love. Love is great. Love makes you human. Love also makes you stupid. This is why I recommend that people take this stuff with a pinch of salt, because the main message being projected towards the audience is basically “anything is possible, because…love”. One can only imagine the consequences of this when it comes to impressionable humans. Especially girls. I’m not stereotyping; like it or not, the majority of romance dramas are aimed at women, and obviously they’ll identify with the movie more than men will.

So what are these aforementioned consequences of thinking this way for silly humans? As a member of a private girls college who observes the actions of her classmates on a daily basis when there’s nothing to do, I can provide several situations. Candy (yes, I’m intentionally using names from the What Not to Call Your Daughter List) may acquire the idea that if she ‘loves’ her lazy, emotionally distant boyfriend, he’ll end up changing for the better. Lexi might start thinking that she’s not worth anything unless she has a hot guy to love. And Krystal could decide to go along with her boyfriend’s selfishness and wandering penis, because…love.

I am an extremely cynical human being. 

Then again, at least I’m not stupid.

Here’s the general gist of what I’m trying to tell you all.

You’re not a slut/idiot/perve/ditz for reading or watching Fifty Shades of Grey. Curiosity is part of human nature, and it’s okay to read naughty books from time to time. And it’s also okay to try out new things that you might come across in the book if it strikes your fancy. Personally, one of my limits is getting caned or whipped, for obvious reasons, but I do enjoy trying new things and seeing what I enjoy and what I don’t in a safe environment. 

You can enjoy reading about sex, even if it is considered badly written. I remember Daniel and I used to play a drinking game in Delirium where we had to read it aloud for as long as possible without laughing, and the other person had to down drinks until the reader cracked a smile, (the game was surprisingly balanced; between my ability to read faster and therefore laugh earlier and Daniel’s ability to gulp a glass of garnet dew in a matter of seconds, we ended up drinking the same amount per turn). Anyway, that was my way of enjoying it, and I invite you to enjoy it however you choose to. 

It’s okay to like it for what it is; fiction. This is not a guide to living and it shouldn’t be interpreted as such. BDSM should not be an excuse or an outlet for abuse, and love should never be an excuse for anything. 

And on a shorter note; to all the feminists who scream negative crap about women in general who willingly choose to play the submissive role in BDSM relationships, feminism is about women having the right to engage in whatever activity they choose to without judgement, and you’re imposing on this right by saying that sexually submitting to a man makes you nothing more than a plaything. Women should be allowed to express their sexuality however they want; they are just as entitled to be dominant as they are to be submissive. They can choose be sexually active or celebate. They can choose to only have sex with the man (or woman) they’re married to, or they can choose to have multiple partners. THATS NOT UP TO YOU.

Rant over. Sup?

Insert Obligatory-Christmas-Post-Title Here

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First of all, Merry Christmas. I know it’s a day late, but I don’t really care. When it comes to Christmas, we usually celebrate it on Christmas Eve and Boxing Day. Christmas Day gets spent flying between cities.

Second of all, this is the first Christmas that I’m not spending with my cousins interstate, which has it’s ups and downs. Ups being that I don’t need to put up with jet lag or my paternal cousins who break everything I love. Downs being that I don’t get to see my other cousins in Sydney and watch the Doctor Who Christmas Special.

By the way, I like Capaldi. Not as much as I liked Matt Smith, but I like how they made a Doctor who questions himself and wonders if he’s ‘a good man’, now that he’s no longer charismatic and charming. What I don’t like now is Clara. I feel that as much as I like Twelve, he’s really not good for Clara. Or maybe Clara is just a worse person than they made her out to be when she was with Eleven. Either way, she just becomes so much more annoying this season; she lies to the Doctor and her boyfriend even after they realise eachother’s existence, and she just comes across as self righteous in everything that she does. Maybe that was their intention, but I found that no matter how capable Clara was, I just got tired of her being so ‘goody goody’ and preachy to the Doctor, who was having enough trouble figuring out his moral compass as it was, while being able to get away with her own bullshit because she’s Clara. It frustrated me how Danny was constantly fine with her lying to him and not even trying to be honest with him, which I guess made him more endearing to the audience, but I feel like Clara didn’t get any comeuppance for it, unless his death is somehow karma coming back to bite her in the ass.

Also, the Mistress. I called that shit.

Third (actual) topic on the agenda: The debate over whether 2014 was better than 2013. Let’s do that now.

Reasons why 2014 sucked

-Everybody DIED. And it fucking SUCKED.

-Two hospitalisations for suicidal ideation. One of which I don’t even remember.

-Delirium isn’t completely gone, even after I spent a year trying to stop it from coming back in my head. And yes, I’m working on writing about that, leave me alone.

-Still single, and have been so for a year. More if you count in Delirium time.

-Being forced to actually deal with my depression and anxiety instead of running away into the world in my head to kill monsters and be a badass. I miss being a badass. Even if it tore me out emotionally, it made me feel like there was something good about myself.

-Frigging. Humans. Stabbing. You. In. The. Back. Yes, I’m looking at you Delamore. And fuck you. If I’m not important enough to even say hello to, then you aren’t worth any more of my time. Also, sisters before misters. Remember that before you lose all your friends.

Okee, now that I’m done verbally abusing people, I’m going to list Everything that didn’t suck about 2014:

-I’ve been doing a lot more modelling than previous years, which is awesome. I’ve met so many people and done so many things that I would never have been able to do otherwise. And I’m in a place where I can organise my own projects with people I know, which is even more awesome.

-When I say that Delirium isn’t completely gone, I mean that my pesky imaginary friend/paramour still stays around to ‘protect’ me from myself. The actual world of Delirium, which I’ve spent the past few years falling into, hasn’t been apart of my life for the past few months. So now, there’s nothing holding me back from making a full recovery. This is a good thing.

-I’ve been getting more action this year than I did last year. Which is ironic considering how last year I was in two relationships and I’ve been single the whole of this year. As much as I enjoy being in a relationship, being single is surprisingly rewarding, despite how much I complain about it.

-A continuation on why it’s better now Delirium’s gone; I’m becoming more confident in my abilities. Things get a lot easier when you’re certain that everything around you is real. I’m confident enough that I’m now writing for a magazine as a volunteer writer. Some of my stuff has even been published. But I’m not going to post them up here in case my secret identity is revealed and it follows me for the rest of my life. Sawry.

So when all that is compared to 2013, where I had two relationships end, one suicide attempt, growing hallucinations and one stint at homelessness, things have gotten a lot better for me when you think about it.

Fourth item on the agenda; explaining shit.

Concerning the matter of Delamore and the reason surrounding my negative outlook on her. I suppose if I don’t explain it now, I probably never will, so I’ll give a brief explanation. If Delamore is reading this, I just want you to know that I read your messages to Bad Dog, and if you’re going to call me a self absorbed attention seeker behind my back, then I really don’t want to be your friend anymore, even if what I suspect about you isn’t true.

So what do I suspect you of? I think you’re a liar. I think you lied to Bad Dog, to Snugglepot, and to me. I think that you manipulate people to get your way and cut people out if they’re not important enough to you. I don’t care if you don’t want me in your life, but if you lie to me and go out of your way to hurt me, then I no longer have any reason to care about what happens to you. Just remember that. If you care enough to read about my life, that is.

So now I’ve finished talking to an imaginary Delamore, I’ll explain the situation. Snugglepot had a Halloween party and invited me at the last minute. Delamore, who was in charge of the guest list, hadn’t invited me, and didn’t even know that Snugglepot had added me at the last second till the day before the party. Later in the afternoon, Snugglepot informed me that Delamore said that at least ten people had threatened to not come to the party if I was coming, and so I shouldn’t come after all. So I spent the next few days depressed and humiliated. Until Papa Willis informed me that apparently this wasn’t the case at all. That people didn’t hate my guts and had refused to attend an event that I was going to. To be honest, I don’t know what to believe. Maybe Willis is wrong. But that’s the rundown of the situation.

Okay. Rant over. Goddammit, it’s Christmas. It’s not nice being pissed on Christmas.

Also, Togami. This is what happened. We’ve hung out a couple of times, and we disclosed to eachother that neither of us wanted to be in a relationship if we weren’t sure there was a chance of it being love. So we’re not going out.

We’re just fooling around instead.

Much to someone’s disapproval.

So that’s what’s happened. See? So much easier to explain. And with that, I believe it’s the end up this Christmas update.

“I don’t care. It’s your body. Do what you want.”

“Thankyou.”

“…don’t hurt yourself.”

“…I don’t plan to.”

“Does anyone?”

“I know…you’re saving me from myself.”

“Someone has to.”

“Shush.”

Let’s Talk About It

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The first thing I have to say is that NO, I’m not going to write descriptions of my sexual encounters on this blog. Not looking at anyone in particular, Bad Dog.

The second thing I have to say is that people are weird about sex. Sex in itself is simple when you think about it.

Other factors make it so complicated though. The practise of sex is performed for different reasons. It can be done as commerce, a display of dominance, to create children, and even for love.

Morality makes sex complicated. Some parts of it are simple for people to understand, though there are some who don’t. You should never force people into it. You should be mature enough to do it, emotionally as well as physically. You should be careful to protect yourself. Then you get to more complex ethics. Some people say that you shouldn’t have sex until you are bound together by wedlock, others will give it away for a smile and a few pretty words. After that, there’s a matter of who you can or should have sex with. And that’s when you can get involved in a million issues involving race, gender, age, class; things that really don’t matter in the big picture when you consider it. Humans are silly that way.

There is very little humanity in Delirium, as you nonexistent readers have probably surmised by now. Though the people there maintain their illusion that they are of a higher class of beings, they are in fact worse than humans; they justify their sin as being their right, instead of feeling guilt. There is the occasionally exception, but I’ve found that those people usually had one thing in common; Daniel.

The reason I don’t regret spending the night with Daniel is because it’s one of the few moments in Delirium where I didn’t feel pain or fear or anger, which I had become so used to in this place. I felt more human than I had ever been, and that’s why I won’t ever forget it.

I did learn one thing though. It’s not necessarily a good idea to tell your friends about it. Even if they’re your dearest friends, they will not pass up the opportunity to embarrass you about it whenever possible about it.

Here’s how they found out. Starting with Kaya.

Kaya was pissed at me. Well, to be exact, she was pissed at Daniel, but she was taking it out on me, there’s a difference apparently. Originally, she was yelling at Daniel, as our dearest Papa Willis had been taken from his cell without him noticing.

However, Daniel assumed that she was angry about another notable event, and he began apologising in his usual non-apologetic way. And when he finally came to his senses that she was talking about something else, it was far too late.

And then she became even more pissed. As if that were even possible.

Whether this was because of morality or jealousy, I’m not sure. Kaya’s motives would always be a mystery for me. What I could never doubt however was the extremity of her moods, so I braced myself for many a rant from my split personality.

Her nagging stayed with me at lunchtime, when I was with my friends in the library AV room. The Evil One, who I should really be calling ‘Captain Clumsy’, arrived on her crutches. “Evil! Perfect timing!” I started.

“No.”

“Please?”

“You used it on her at recess.”

“Aw, come on!”

I’m not entirely sure of how we got onto that subject from there. I think we started talking about chocolate, because I mentioned how Kaya stole chocolate from the house. But my friends are very talented people, see. And they proceeded to into a conversation about chocolate into one about activities unsuitable for catholic school girls.

Long story short, Lady Delamore ended up giving me a talking to.

“Delamore,” I groaned. Daniel beside me was cracking up. “I am not wearing a chastity belt.”

“Yes you are.”

Before I continue, it might be a good idea to explain Lady Delamore to you all. Lady Delamore is the female equivalent of Slenderman, the seediest man alive, whom she also happens to be dating. Well, almost the equivalent. Unlike Slenderman, she has an abhorrence of actual intercourse, and has made us all promise to her that none of us would get up to any mischief until marriage or our coming of age, which she had helpfully pushed up to 23.

Of course, I had never taken it seriously, mainly because I had deemed myself ‘Forever Alone’. But it also had to do with my natural disdain for regulations and authority which is enforced on me. Which is why the promise which had been extracted from me by Delamore (who was holding my iPad hostage), had never crossed my mind that night.

“So why is Papa Willis allowed to throw away his virtue?” Daniel asks, obviously amused by Delamore’s stance, especially in light of recent events.

I repeat the question to Delamore. “You, my dear, are my baby girl,” she told me. “And you are very precious to me. If I had it my way, I’d lock you up in my basement, that’s how much I care about you!” The last part was obviously sarcastic, but the look on Daniel’s face was pure horror.

“Isn’t Papa Willis precious to you?”

“No.”

Daniel laughs at that. “Don’t you ever stop making fun of him?”

“Nope. We’re cruel people, Daniel.”

“I’m sorry, but when it comes to your virtue, I-”

I couldn’t help it, both Daniel and I crack up. Of course, they can only see me, but that’s beside the point. It was at that point that the truth began to come out.

Delamore stares at me. “Why are you laughing?”

Everyone turned towards me. I eventually calmed down. “Nothing,” I said, crossing my fingers.

Delamore’s eyes narrowed. “What. Is going. On.”

“I wanna tell her,” Daniel said.

“Don’t you dare.”

I looked over at my friends and went red. “What. Did. You. Do.

“…He says ‘Too Late’,” I admitted to them.

All hell went loose. Snugglepot and Teacup’s eyes went as wide as saucers, the Evil One and Bad Dog started laughing, Pinky and Ducky just went “What?!” and Delamore gave me The Look.

This look has been bestowed upon many a member in our group, mainly when we were discussing topics involving sex. And in a ‘family’ where having a seedy mind was a necessary trait for survival, this happened to come up a lot, and because our ‘family’ consists mainly of teenage boys, these topics were often quite graphic. And as a result, Lady Delamore issued her disapproving stare upon many.

She gave me this look now. “Explain!” she demanded.

“I’m going to leave you to it,” Daniel told me, kissing the top of my head.

“All alone?”

“You’ll be fine,” he said, chuckling as he left the room, abandoning me with all these emotional teenage girls.

They immediately started asking me what happened, and when the assumptions became more and more disgusting, I just yelled out “If you want to know, ask Papa Willis about it!”

“Why does he know and not me?” Delamore demanded.

“Because you don’t have Facebook!”

“We agreed twenty three! That was the agreement.”

“Yeah…about that.” I tried to come up with a suitable explanation, but I ended up just saying, “No.”

“Cat!”

“No.”

Delamore gave me that look. “It’s going to be a long time before I can forgive you.”

“Okay…”

“And you won’t do it again until you’re 23.”

I groaned. “Whatever.”

“In Reality, not Delirium.”

“Oh come on!”

Delamore eventually paused in her ranting to message Papa Willis to confirm this tale of woe. It was at this point that Teacup, innocent little Teacup, came up to me and gave me a hug. “I still love you Cat,” she said.

“Thankyou Teacup.”

“So…how was it?”

“…you’re like twelve!”

“Hey, I’m fourteen!”

“Does that really make it okay?”

“I’m just as innocent as the rest of you. Soooo, how was it?”

I closed my eyes, immediately regretting my decision to tell all. “Fuck.”

You started it.

Shaddup Kaya.

Shush

Standard

“…I believe that I may be in trouble,” Daniel told me.

I looked down. “Little bit.”

“Ah.”

“Not with me though,” I told him. “Definitely not.”

“Good.” I felt him smile against my neck.

I paused. “Are you going to tell anyone?”

“Hmm….”

“Can I tell my friends?”

“Do you think they’ll approve?” he countered.

“Good point…” Then I shook my head. “Actually, I can tell Papa Willis. And probably a couple of girlfriends who know.”

“I thought those two were mutually inclusive.”

“True…very true.”

After a moment, he spoke again. “Am I allowed to tell anyone?”

“Well, if I am…who would you tell?” I asked.

His silence told me all. “You want to brag to Christan, don’t you?” I said flatly.

“…maybe.”

“Okay then.”

“…Really? You’re actually fine with that?”

“Oh, there’ll be conditions,” I told him.

“Ahh, here we are.”

“Rule one, details will be kept to a bare minimum.”

“What kind of details are we talking?”

“The…activity….habits, talents, which brings me to sounds-” he chuckled at that. “Shut it. ” I could feel myself going red. “And…that’s all I can think of.”

“Is that it?”

Something in his tone makes me nervous. “Wait, no.” I frowned. “I’m trying to eliminate any possible loophole that you can use to your advantage.” His resulting grin tickled the back of my neck again. “Let me think,” I insisted.

“How about what happens in the sanctity of the boudoir stays in the sanctity of the boudoir?” Daniel suggested.

“Immediate loophole right there,” I pointed out.

“What? It’s not like there’s anywhere else we’d…” He gives a gasp of mock horror. “My god, you utter whore.”

“Shush.” I looked over my shoulder at him and stuck my tongue out.

“Rule two?” he enquired.

“No making up things,” I said. “I don’t want to hear about some kinky shit that I apparently had done.”

“Understandable.”

“Three…well, just…no photos.”

“Rodger.”

Everything was so warm, and I quickly drifted off, into a world where my dreams weren’t going to hurt me.

It wasn’t perfect. Not like those crappy fanfictions where Bella/Ana have amazing sex on the first shot and feel zero pain whatsoever. Technically, Daniel had still been recovering from his near-death experience, so there were moments where he had to stop. And at times, I had to persuade myself to relax and to let go of my memories, so that I could replace them with, well…other memories. Better ones.

When I fell asleep in his arms, I felt safer than I had ever felt in my life. I would never claim that this moment, that this strange and wonderful thing, was a mistake.

Taste the Whip

Standard

Last time, on The Adventures of Cat Madigan.

I woke up in a brothel that I had to save Daniel from. I also got a dominatrix to take her clothes off.

And now things are going to get weirder.

___________________________________________

Act natural, act natural, act natural. Christ Cat, you’re a frigging model, that’s one step away from a hooker. You can do this.

It’s easy to not show anything as I walk through this place, but it’s another thing entirely to not feel anything. In truth, I am scared half to death. This place is far more frightening than any of the dungeons or torture chambers I’ve had the misfortune to be in.

The Fury instructed me to go to the cells to find the woman. But this place is huge, and everywhere I looked, there were writhing figures and strange…contraptions with people strapped or chained onto them.

Suddenly, I’m span around, and I’m facing a tall, dark man with piercing eyes. “And what do I call you?” he enquired.

Fuck… “You can call me whatever you want,” I said randomly. The man frowned, so I added, “I think the question you want to ask is, Who are you?Fan-fucking-tastic Cat Madigan.

To my relief he chuckles. “You’re a different dish,” he mused. “But you’re too shy for a Fury.” He grabs me by the waist. “I think my dear, you are wearing the wrong uniform,” he breathed in my face.

It’s like my heart is getting squeezed from the inside. This man is a giant, and he could do whatever he wanted with me at the snap of his fingers.

…no.

Not today.

I slap him across the face, and I know, as he staggers back, that everyone starts watching this new performance, even stopping their own…acts, in order to focus on us. “I know what I am,” I inform him frostily.

“Fucking bitch,” he growls. “You’ll do as I-”

CRACK!

In a split second, I had pulled out my whip and cracked it at him. It slashed his chest and he cried out. “You do not have control over me,” I snarl at him. “I am not yours to command, no matter what you may think.” Conscious of everyone around me, I continue. “The next time you touch me I’ll strike that hand. The next time you curse at me I’ll strike that tongue.” I crack my whip again and he falls to the ground. I walk over to him and pull him up by the hair. I whisper to him, “I am not your whore. I am your mistress, and you’ll obey me till I see fit.”

“Now,” I hold him behind his back. “Take yourself to the cells, I’ll be with you in a minute.” When he hesitates, I bark out, “Now!”

He immediately starts walking, and I follow. It can’t be that easy, I was thinking. This guy was about to rape me a moment ago, why is he doing as I say?

The cells were remarkably like the dungeons in the castle. The only difference was all the…toys. I shove the man into one cell and I close the door behind us.

When the door slams shut, he rushes at me. He grabs my throat and shoves me against the door. He pulls my scarf down and grips my face as if he would crush it in his grasp.

I growl, and hold my five lettered hand down on his chest. They burn into him and he cries out. Now that I have the advantage, I kick off his stomach and he goes crashing into the other wall.

Dusting myself off, I pick up one of his arms and cuff it. He starts refocusing just as I am finishing the other, and he snarls at me. “Fucking cunt,” he spits.

“Oh shut up,” I groan, rearranging my scarf. “I am sick and tired of this place already. I am trying to find my friend and I am not in the mood for anymore of this bullshit. I just want some facts.” I look at his savage face. “Which I’m guessing you’re unwilling to give me?”

He spits at my feet. “Don’t worry, I’m not an actual Fury, so I won’t hit you,” I inform him. “But you’ve probably already guessed that. Anyway, I need to go and you are a very loud person, so…”

Looking at the display on the wall, I ask him, as if I were asking for the time, “Which of these will knock you out quickly?” Ignoring his responding curse, I pick up a cane and analyse it. “Good enough.”

His eyes widen as I swing it up. “Sorry,” I tell him, before swinging it into his temple.

Praying that he didn’t have an even more damaged brain, I quickly got out of there and started listening in the other cells for anything of note. But there was nothing, no talk of humans, or anything sounding remotely like Daniel.

The woman probably lied to me. Of course she did; I had held her at knifepoint, or whatever the flammable equivalent is, and forced her to strip. She wouldn’t get anything from telling me the truth. Why the hell did I believe her?

Exasperated by my ignorance, I started walking out of the cells. But then someone grabs me by the shoulder and pulls me back in. “Let me go,” I snarl at him.

“I need you for something,” the man growls.

“Did it not occur to you I’m busy?” I retort.

“I don’t hear any customers of yours,” he replies. “I just need a helping hand.”

I automatically hear the euphemism first. “Can’t you use a Meek for that?”

“Not that.” He spits out the word as if it tastes foul. “We have a little problem back here, and I want to know more about it. I want someone to read him.”

Read him? “What does that have to do with me?”

“Since you’re not busy, you can do the job,” he replied. He takes me into a cell at the far end, and I look away from the occupants, trying to seem more polite than disgusted. There’s another door in this cell, though there wasn’t one the one I had been using. He leads me through the door into a well furnished room, which reminded me of Daniel’s own chambers. There’s one more door, and when we go through it, I feel a wave of dread crash through me.

Two chains extend from the ceiling, suspending Daniel’s arms in the air. His feet are attached to the floor by a similar set, and when he looks up, his eyes are detached and bleary.

“What can you tell me about him?” The man looks at me expectantly.

I hesitate, before walking over to Daniel. “I…haven’t read many people,” I say.

“And you call yourself a Fury?” the man spits.

“I can do it,” I tell him hurriedly, even though I have no idea what to do. Kneeling before Daniel, I cup his face in my hand, and I pray that he’s not gone, that he knows I’m here.

Almost if by magic, he begins to focus and he blinks himself awake. Then he takes in the sensation of the chains pulling at his arms and he hisses in pain. I put my thumb over his lips. “Shhhh,” I warn him.

He looks up at me and his eyes flash with shock as he realises who I am. His eyes look me up and down, and I know that he’s registering me, with my scarlet corset and black skintight pants. I turn back to the man. “What do you wish to know?”

“Start physical. Look at him, tell me what you can see.”

I hesitate. “He’s dehydrated. And probably starving. He keeps dissociating, or something of the like.” I just say things at random, in the unlikely hope he won’t suspect something. “Build…” I release Daniel’s face and walk around, checking for anything I can tell the man. Daniel’s shirt is gone, and I can see the bruises on his back. “He’s a fighter,” I say. “He’s taken some recent wounds, but these,” I indicate the lighter marks, “have been there for years. He can take a beating, probably anything you can throw at him.” I pause. “Sensitivity.” I rest my hand on his waist and I feel him flinch. I run it up his side and he groans. “Very,” I said. I turn to the man. “There’s no reason to torture this man. He’s not going to tell you anything while he’s still breathing.”

“You know him,” the man said flatly.

Trying very hard not to show anything, I look up. “Oh?”

“You forgot to mention that this man is human,” the man informs me. “It was almost as if you didn’t notice. Interesting.”

I clench my jaw. “I don’t see the difference, if I may be honest. And besides, who wouldn’t know him? He’s almost as well known as Kaya.”

He flinches. “You should know better than to mention her,” he growls. “The name’s taboo. We’re in enough trouble anyway.”

“Why is he here?” I ask. “I thought they had already interrogated this place. What reason does he have for coming here?” I grimace. “Apart from the usual reason.”

“The Meek,” the man groans. “Or rather, the one pretending to be.”

“What are you saying?” I can feel my heart rate rising at the word pretending.

“There was an infiltrator. What’s more, she was a human one. Understand now, Fury?”

I only took in the word human. “You mean…”

He sighs. “We found the girl after. They don’t know about her yet, but it’s only a matter of time. We should’ve killed her, if I may be honest.”

“You didn’t?” I frown. “Why…if I may ask.”

He looks at me as if I were an idiot. “I’m not a monster,” he says. “I know what everyone says of me, but I can’t kill someone just to avoid bad publicity. You might, but I can’t. It’s…cowardly, but I can’t live with her death on my conscience.”

“I think I can understand that.” I pause. “So you won’t kill her. Or this man.”

“I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I did. But I can’t let them out either.” He thinks for a moment. “They can both work here. They’re both able bodied, well, he will be after he’s fed up again. We need to break them though.”

“Break them?” I already have a bad feeling in my stomach.

“This one especially.” He indicates Daniel. “Let out now, he’d attack the customers. He’s too wild.”

I close my eyes. “Isn’t that the same as killing them?”

“No one’s dying. Not really. Think of it as retraining.”

“Brainwashing.”

“Yes,” he says, completely unfazed. “Everything is fine as long as no blood is spilled. Much like how it is out there,” he indicates where the prostitutes are all coupling.

“There’s still the matter of ‘breaking’ him,” I tell him. “How do you break a man who has endured enough pain for a thousand?”

“Simple. You take the one thing he cares about the most, and destroy it in front of him. And there she is.” He looks at me pointedly.

I’m silent. “Oh don’t feel sad about it,” he says in what sounds like a comforting voice. “For what it’s worth, you put on a very good act. If you hadn’t probed further, you would’ve gotten away with it. You certainly behave like a Fury. And your reading is quite good, for someone who doesn’t know what they’re doing. Maybe that’s just your relationship with him, but still, you seemed to grasp physical and mental analysis quite well.” He smiles at me, but it only reaches his lips. “It’s your eyes which are the problem. Not something people care about usually. But they show too much emotion for someone around here…. If it makes you feel better, he was found fairly quickly, far faster than you.”

“What are you going to do?” I ask. They won’t kill you, but it won’t be pretty either.

“Waste not, want not,” he replies. “You can be broken in too. And then I’ll have two new employees. It all works out in the end.”

At that I burst out laughing. It’s a mad, maniacal sound, but that’s the last thing I care about. “I’m already broken!” I crow at him. “Broken beyond repair. Go ahead! Smash every bone in my body! Take anything you want, take everything I am!”

He shows nothing. “It’s fine,” he says easily. “We have things for freaks like you.”

Only then do I notice the two Fury’s behind me. Before I can react, I fall to the ground, weighed down by the massive shackles on my hands. “This is my field, Lady Madigan,” he tells me. “I make the rules here. And I accept your challenge.” He turns to the Fury’s. “Make sure he watches as you break her. That’s the point of this. Break her soul, and you’ll break his.”

I’m sorry Daniel, I thought, as the Fury’s approached me.

_