Spark in Darkness -102 scattered thoughts
Oct. 10th, 2009 02:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sparkindarknessJust a little drabble.
Originally this was the hawt sexing, in my head anyway. It just didn't work that way. One of the recurring tropes I hate in m/m fiction/slash and just about any genre with relationships is that when someone is depressed, upset or even outright traumatised, they have themselves some hot sexing and feel better.
I can see sex as a way to life out of a funk and maybe improve my mood - but if I'm really depressed and/or upset I'm not in the sexy mood. I also feel a little a little squicky by the non-upset partners a lot. I mean, if Richard came to me, upset, sad, confused and generally down I would think it's time for support, hugs, MAYBE cheering up (but I've ranted before about the idea of us having a DUTY to be happy). It's not a time to think "hey, he's feeling all sad and vulnerable now - time to get in his pants!" The times I've read this and felt that it's a little... predatory? Your partner's upset and vulnerable so it's time for sex?
Anyway, sexy time was called for cuddles instead :P I have more and I hope to post again today :)
“Darren? You ok?” He had his back to me, staring out of the window. There was a kind of horse-griffin thing out there digging up the flower bed, but I don’t think he was watching it. Everything you need to know about living in this place can be summed up with “I saw a horse-griffin out the window and considered it normal” really.
Darren shifted as I moved in the room, keeping his back to me. I gave up on the subtle slide and turned him to look at me.
“They don’t normally let the hippogryph that close to the house...” he waved at the window. Obvious distraction, how dumb did he think I was? Don’t answer that. And don’t let Ghost answer it either.
“Yeah, fuck the hippogryph. What did she do?” He had dried tears on his face he hadn’t bothered to wash way.
“Caiomhe? Do? Oh. Nothing. Talk.” he sat limply on the bed. “Just talk.”
“Uh-huh. So what did she say that upset you then?” I sat down next to him, falling on the bed hard enough to make him fall into me. I hated playing 20 questions.
He frowned at me. “I’m not upset.”
“Yeah?” I gave him my most doubting look. “This is my ‘I believe you’ face. Really. Because I’m totally convinced.”
He rolled his eyes and pushed me back a little. “I’ve no reason to be upset.” he frowned again. “She apologised, Rick. Or as close as any Camaalis ever does. She apologised for being a bad mother. She promised to make amends and do better. Rick... she admitted she was wrong.”
Well let me mark THAT on the calendar. I managed to stop myself JUST before I said it aloud. Just. “Sooo... what does that mean anyway?”
“It’s a good thing. I should be happy. I should be ecstatic.”
“But you‘re upset?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know.” He sighed and slumped. “I don’t know what I am. I can’t seem to feel anything at the moment. I don’t even know why I was crying.” He paused. “Confused. I’m just... scattered. Everything’s been this way for so long, I never expected this. Never imagined it.”
I pulled him back on the bed. “Stop. Your brain is broken, stop using it. Come snuggle.”
He gave me a disgusted look, but let me pull him down next to me. “I can’t just ignore it, Rick.”
I hugged him, ruffling his hair because that always bugs him. “Is there a time limit? You got an exam tomorrow on dealing with fucked up parenting or something?”
He waved away my hands but didn’t move away. “And if I see Caoimhe tomorrow, what then? I don’t know where I stand, what to do, how to feel, what to think!”
I let go of his hair and tried some pointless tickling. How can someone have no ticklish spots at all? It’s totally unfair. “And? You owe her something now? You don’t owe it to her to be collected, to be able to deal with whatever random shit she throws at you. Fuck, you don’t owe it to her to not throw things at her head every time you see her. In fact, let’s do that - let me go find some pointy things..”
I tried to get up but he pulled me back down with that little annoyed sound he makes. “It’s serious, Rick.”
“I am serious,” I said, poking him. “Well, maybe not about the throwing things. But, yeah, what do you owe her? Or any of them for that matter? They fuck over your life for a decade or so, screw up your brain, try to kill you 10 billion times - and me, don‘t forget, give you enough issues to keep Oprah busy for a fucking year then come to you ‘aargh big bad Sorcerer is gonna eat us, come help.’ They’re family and all, I get it, but you don’t OWE it to them to be calm and cool and totally happy about all this. They don’t get to say ‘yeah we did bad shit. Let’s have a do-over.’ and you have every fucking right to be angry, confused, sad, happy, psychotically enraged or even fucking quixotic - whatever the hell that means.”
Darren was quiet. I almost thought he’d fallen asleep except he was really tense. “I mean it, Darren. You take the time you need to sort out your heard - you have every damn reason to be confused and seriously messed up about the arseholes in your family. And you also have a fucking RIGHT to say ‘screw this shit’ and have a break from the random crap. You said these guys have been around for thousands of years, right? Well the SOBs will all be here tomorrow too.”
He had burrowed in against me, always a good sign, and didn’t complain when I pulled some sheets over him. He laughed. “Do you realise how ridiculous it is to use family-based insults against people I’m actually related to?”
I swatted the top of his head, the only thing not covered by the sheets, “give me a break. I’m ranting here.”
He sighed, but I could feel him relaxing against me. Despite everything, he may actually manage a full night’s sleep - for once.
Originally this was the hawt sexing, in my head anyway. It just didn't work that way. One of the recurring tropes I hate in m/m fiction/slash and just about any genre with relationships is that when someone is depressed, upset or even outright traumatised, they have themselves some hot sexing and feel better.
I can see sex as a way to life out of a funk and maybe improve my mood - but if I'm really depressed and/or upset I'm not in the sexy mood. I also feel a little a little squicky by the non-upset partners a lot. I mean, if Richard came to me, upset, sad, confused and generally down I would think it's time for support, hugs, MAYBE cheering up (but I've ranted before about the idea of us having a DUTY to be happy). It's not a time to think "hey, he's feeling all sad and vulnerable now - time to get in his pants!" The times I've read this and felt that it's a little... predatory? Your partner's upset and vulnerable so it's time for sex?
Anyway, sexy time was called for cuddles instead :P I have more and I hope to post again today :)
“Darren? You ok?” He had his back to me, staring out of the window. There was a kind of horse-griffin thing out there digging up the flower bed, but I don’t think he was watching it. Everything you need to know about living in this place can be summed up with “I saw a horse-griffin out the window and considered it normal” really.
Darren shifted as I moved in the room, keeping his back to me. I gave up on the subtle slide and turned him to look at me.
“They don’t normally let the hippogryph that close to the house...” he waved at the window. Obvious distraction, how dumb did he think I was? Don’t answer that. And don’t let Ghost answer it either.
“Yeah, fuck the hippogryph. What did she do?” He had dried tears on his face he hadn’t bothered to wash way.
“Caiomhe? Do? Oh. Nothing. Talk.” he sat limply on the bed. “Just talk.”
“Uh-huh. So what did she say that upset you then?” I sat down next to him, falling on the bed hard enough to make him fall into me. I hated playing 20 questions.
He frowned at me. “I’m not upset.”
“Yeah?” I gave him my most doubting look. “This is my ‘I believe you’ face. Really. Because I’m totally convinced.”
He rolled his eyes and pushed me back a little. “I’ve no reason to be upset.” he frowned again. “She apologised, Rick. Or as close as any Camaalis ever does. She apologised for being a bad mother. She promised to make amends and do better. Rick... she admitted she was wrong.”
Well let me mark THAT on the calendar. I managed to stop myself JUST before I said it aloud. Just. “Sooo... what does that mean anyway?”
“It’s a good thing. I should be happy. I should be ecstatic.”
“But you‘re upset?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know.” He sighed and slumped. “I don’t know what I am. I can’t seem to feel anything at the moment. I don’t even know why I was crying.” He paused. “Confused. I’m just... scattered. Everything’s been this way for so long, I never expected this. Never imagined it.”
I pulled him back on the bed. “Stop. Your brain is broken, stop using it. Come snuggle.”
He gave me a disgusted look, but let me pull him down next to me. “I can’t just ignore it, Rick.”
I hugged him, ruffling his hair because that always bugs him. “Is there a time limit? You got an exam tomorrow on dealing with fucked up parenting or something?”
He waved away my hands but didn’t move away. “And if I see Caoimhe tomorrow, what then? I don’t know where I stand, what to do, how to feel, what to think!”
I let go of his hair and tried some pointless tickling. How can someone have no ticklish spots at all? It’s totally unfair. “And? You owe her something now? You don’t owe it to her to be collected, to be able to deal with whatever random shit she throws at you. Fuck, you don’t owe it to her to not throw things at her head every time you see her. In fact, let’s do that - let me go find some pointy things..”
I tried to get up but he pulled me back down with that little annoyed sound he makes. “It’s serious, Rick.”
“I am serious,” I said, poking him. “Well, maybe not about the throwing things. But, yeah, what do you owe her? Or any of them for that matter? They fuck over your life for a decade or so, screw up your brain, try to kill you 10 billion times - and me, don‘t forget, give you enough issues to keep Oprah busy for a fucking year then come to you ‘aargh big bad Sorcerer is gonna eat us, come help.’ They’re family and all, I get it, but you don’t OWE it to them to be calm and cool and totally happy about all this. They don’t get to say ‘yeah we did bad shit. Let’s have a do-over.’ and you have every fucking right to be angry, confused, sad, happy, psychotically enraged or even fucking quixotic - whatever the hell that means.”
Darren was quiet. I almost thought he’d fallen asleep except he was really tense. “I mean it, Darren. You take the time you need to sort out your heard - you have every damn reason to be confused and seriously messed up about the arseholes in your family. And you also have a fucking RIGHT to say ‘screw this shit’ and have a break from the random crap. You said these guys have been around for thousands of years, right? Well the SOBs will all be here tomorrow too.”
He had burrowed in against me, always a good sign, and didn’t complain when I pulled some sheets over him. He laughed. “Do you realise how ridiculous it is to use family-based insults against people I’m actually related to?”
I swatted the top of his head, the only thing not covered by the sheets, “give me a break. I’m ranting here.”
He sighed, but I could feel him relaxing against me. Despite everything, he may actually manage a full night’s sleep - for once.