Reminds me of Jason Kander, former Missouri Secretary of State. When he went to the VA hospital to treat his PTSD, he told the nurse that Obama told him he should run for president, and she thought he was delusional.
I think I'm gonna make this my go-to story. It's not the worst I've ever heard, which is an asset because people won't believe you if you tell them the actual bad stuff those people do. And it just perfectly sums up the casual arrogance everyone working in mental health seems to have. The way they treat you as inherently Lesser for being in their care.
If they can't even handle basic, easily verified shit like "I'm a lawyer" they are never going to believe you when you tell them that you know how to manage a condition you've been dealing with for decades better than they can or will.
And then there's Alexander Morris, who was put in a straitjacket, called racial slurs, and denied treatment for his potentially life-threatening heart condition when he told them he was the lead singer of the band he was lead singer of.
The lead singer of the Motown group the Four Tops has filed a federal lawsuit against Ascension Macomb Oakland Hospital in Warren, Michigan,
There are multiple parts of that article that are Jae droppingly awful but this one really gets me:
They almost let this man die in a straight jacket simply because they were too racist. And then when they realize their "mistake", they tell him that his life is worth a 25$ supermarket gift card. Of course he's suing them for $75,000 as he should but like. Can you imagine how insulted he must've been. The 4 Tops were one of the top Motown bands of all time. You can be at the top of the music scene and still, they'll kill you because you're black. And they'll use fake claims about mental illness and "aggression" to justify it
& to be clear: none of this is good for anyone. actually delusional people, people who actually hear voices or see things, do not deserve to be treated like this. there is nothing about a person harmlessly believing something fantastical (or which sounds fantastical to you) that requires you to put them in a straightjacket and drug them or deny them necessary drugs. Black mentally ill people do not deserve to be tortured and murdered in a hospital for being Black and mentally ill.
this kind of system is a weapon which can be pointed at anyone. in order to prevent shit like this from happening, we also need to deconstruct how we view mentally ill people, including people who are delusional and hallucinate, and what we view as "reasonable" or "necessary" when it comes to such people.
"heh. if you claim to be a MAN then why do you talk about WOMENS issues"
idk maybe because when i was born someone wrote f on that fucking piece of paper and then i was seen as and therefore treated like a woman and formed some opinions about how women are treated
also are you implying that like. men shouldn't care about womens issues or something.
so apparently the dsm 6 is being structured around bio-pathologizing mental illness specifically in the direction of biomarkers…if u aren’t concerned about this maybe you should be…
Psychiatry is hard at work crafting the newest edition of its diagnostic bible, DSM-6.
…so they’re now trying to search for “biomarkers”- which are essentially genes, or circumstances of conception/birth/what have you, that can “increase the risk” of mental illnesses. how is this any different from people wondering if there’s a “gay gene?” or autism speaks trying to find a genetic or reproductive “cure for autism?”
it’s not. this is barely disguised eugenics that they have ACKNOWLEDGED may (will) do more to harm than good for people with abnormal mental states. what else could the end result of finding a “mental illness gene” be than a reason to further marginalize those who are already marginalized, already branded as more likely to be (or even inherently) “mentally ill” and eventually discourage them to reproduce, either by coercion or force?
it’s more obvious than ever now. everyone should be anti psych
Psychiatry as an institution functions to obfuscate the causes of mental and emotional disturbance (economic exploitation, abuse, lack of access to resources, etc) by describing mental illness as an individual pathology that needs to be recognized and treated by science.
Given where these hardships cluster most intensely, it is extremely useful to white supremacy and eugenics to have a "scientific" method of proving that pathology is more common among "degenerate" populations.
The DSM's various incarnations have corresponded to shifts in which part of this process have been considered more or less important to prioritize - the latest restructuring to focus on biomarkers is just a recalibration to better suit the needs of the imperial-capitalist white supremacist project.
These may be my last words or the last time I write a post, so I will not forgive anyone who sees this post and does not support me with even a single word and ignores me.
These may be my last words or the last time I write a post, so I will not forgive anyone who sees this post and does not support me with even a single word and ignores me.
In Gaza, nothing is normal, and safety is just an illusion. My little sister was simply walking home from school, thinking about her day, her dreams, her future… when suddenly, a violent airstrike hit near her. In a single moment, everything changed. A piece of shrapnel struck her in the head.😔
She fell to the ground, covered in blood. We found her not moving and since that moment, our lives have been frozen in fear.
Now she is in the ICU, unconscious, fighting between life and death. I can’t describe the pain of seeing her like this my sister, who was laughing just hours before, is now connected to machines, barely breathing.
Doctors told us she urgently needs surgery to remove the shrapnel from her head. Without it we might lose her forever.
We need $1,200 immediately. Every minute matters. Every second could be the difference between life and death.
Please… don’t scroll past this. I’m begging you from the bottom of my heart don’t let her die. She is not just a number, not just another story from Gaza. She is a daughter, a dreamer, a child who deserves to live.
We have nothing left but hope and your kindness
Even the smallest donation could save her life. Please stand with us. Please help us bring her back.🙏😔💔
I don’t want to lose my sister… I can’t 😭💔
Current process : USD 14,136 / $15,336
In the heart of Gaza, a family of four clings to survival in the shadow of… Rania A needs your support for Gaza Family Left With Nothing Hel
Vatted: Vatted by @90-ghost , Vatted by @sar-soor , Vatted by @fairuzfan
imagine me, a trans man in a room with a cis woman. the door is closed, we sit across each other at a table. we are talking about our shared hatred of the patriarchy, and the oppression and dangers we face. she knows i’m a trans man, i know she is a cis woman. she says:
”yeah, honestly! kill all men! and ngl, you too, i see you as a man and y’all are disgusting”
and i blankly stare at her in response.
because she doesn’t, not really. her anger about the fear inflicted on her throughout her entire life to control her, and all the women before her, is directed towards cis men. she is aware of the violence they are systematically capable of, as well as how it’s still socially acceptable.
but she doesn’t fear me. we are alone in a room with the door closed, and she does not fear my reaction to her words. because she acknowledges my weakness, and that i’m either too scared of HER to react or she’d overpower me with ease. maybe she didn’t consciously acknowledge that inequality of power between us, but she still did.
so, not only did she lie just because she thought it was the woke thing to do, she also dismissed her own societal status and power as cis compared to someone who is trans, to justify fantasizing and desiring to be violent towards another minority.
do we understand the issue we’re trying to address? are we finally catching up?
trans men are men.
cis men are men.
trans men are not cis men.
trans is not the same as cis.
trans does not mean ”less than cis”.
trans and cis are just different.
if you think ”different” has a negative connotation or invalidating implication, i’m sorry you were raised to think that. it is however your responsibility to unpack the belief you have internalized, instead of projecting it onto other people.
trans men are not responsible for the irreversible damage to women’s safety caused by cis men.
trans men are actively affected by that same system built by cis men, and cis women are encouraged to help keep this system up.
This is the sorta segment I wish still existed in kids’ shows. Soothing voiceover, mellow music, no flashy graphics. Just a calm behind-the-scenes look at something you might call mundane but that most of us would never have a clue about if no one pulled the curtain back to reveal its inner workings.
Gentrification creates a stifling homogeneity in urban areas that makes it less suited for the everyday lives of the lower class and more suited towards the leisure and tourism of those with expendable income.
An old, decrepit laundromat gets replaced by an upscale bakery? And people are mad? It’s not that the poor hate organic vegan cupcakes, it’s that most of us don’t have a way to do laundry in our own home.
Run-down corner stores replaced by hand-made designer clothing boutiques? We don’t hate your eco-fabric shawl, but I can’t eat that for dinner after work like I could have a can of beans I grabbed from that corner store when I don’t have time to take the bus to the real grocery store after work.
What gentrification brings in and of itself is not typically bad, it’s that gentrification brings institutions of leisure and pleasure and makes it so that the poor have to go farther out of their way for basic necessities. It turns low-income living spaces into local tourist attractions. It can even create food deserts by putting restaurants, grocery stores, etc. in that the majority of the lower class cannot afford.
Imagine if someone totally renovated your house and turned it into a mini theme park - they took away your sleeping space, where you prepare food, where you clean yourself and get ready for your day, and replaced it with things that will please people who are visiting, who have their own homes they can go back to, who are here not for their entire life but just as a distraction from their otherwise mundane existence. It’s not that you hate theme parks, it’s not like you’ve never been to a theme park and vow to never visit one again. It’s just that you need to live! To survive! And the leisure of those who have more than you should not invalidate your existence.
I am glad this has made the rounds. Some people feel a dense misunderstanding or misinterpretation concerning gentrification, and I think it helps to hear a description/explanation of what gentrification is from those who are both affected by it and educated by the culture from which it hails. I and many others enjoy some of the delights of gentrification while simultaneously having their livelihoods threatened by it.
Friends, comrades, and fellow objectors. I wish I had more time, energy, health, funds, etc. To scream louder, to help, to resist, to offer aid.
I do not agree with genocides, I do not agree with facism, I wish I knew more of what I could do than words rn.
A lot of problems are more important than my own. But I am drowning alone in the fight to save my life and ability. As its rapidly becoming obvious my physical health is failing. I'm sorry I've neglected you. I'm sorry you ate going through this.
I named her Iman (Faith) to be my hope, yet her bones are shattered in a broken Gaza. Faith alone won't make her walk again; she needs urgent surgery to save her future from permanent disability.
Rating: Mature
Relationship: Male Lion Beastman/Female Human
Additional Tags: Exophilia, Furry, Beastman, Lion Beastman, Arranged Marriage, Tsundere, Age Gap Relationship, Size Difference, Boss/Employee Relationship, Height Differences, Marriage of Convenience
Content Warnings: Sexual Assault, Unwanted Sexual Touching, Discussion of Sexual Assault, Abusive Parents, Abusive Family
Words: 4356
Upon hearing about the reader's struggle to escape her family, Takarad suggests marriage to him in an attempt to evade her fiance, who has appeared to take her back home. Please reblog and leave feedback!
The Nobles Masterlist
You were silent for a good long while, taken fully aback by the suggestion. Was he serious? You were quite sure he didn’t even like you.
“It was just a thought,” He said hastily. “Put it out of your mind if ya ain’t keen on it.”
“You would really marry me?” You asked. “Really?”
“Well… sure,” He said slowly, still faced away from you. “If it’ll help ya out, then…”
“But… don't you hate me?”
He spun around on his heel and looked affronted. “Whoever said such a thing? Sure, I’m a mean old grump who don’t know how to be nice to folks, but that don’t mean I hate ya.”
“Oh,” You said, stunned. You wondered how he treated people he did hate, then. “Will you… come here and talk to me about this? It’s not something that can be decided on a whim. Marriage is a serious thing.”
“I know that full well,” He said, though he did put down his knife and wipe his hands, coming over to sit on one of the stools. It creaked under his weight. “Look, I ain't never had a mind to marry. To be honest, I was a mean little shit when I was a boy, and I ain’t gotten much better with age. Women tend to be scared o’ me, so I ain’t never been close to none. I ain’t the sweet, affectionate sort, if ya couldn’t tell. I’m old now, and I expected to die without ever getting hitched. If you marry me, you ain’t riskin’ nothin’, and if you’ve a mind to stick with me 'til the end to fend off your pa and this baron asshole, then you’ll be free of me when I die. Shouldn’t be that long, I figure.”
You frowned. “I don’t find that particularly comforting.”
He stood up off of the stool and knelt in front of you a little awkwardly, but he looked you straight in the eye. “If you do decide to go through with it… marryin' me, I mean… I don’t know what kinda husband I’ll be to ya, since I ain’t never been married before, but I can promise I won’t ever hit ya or beat ya, and I won’t touch ya if ya don’t want me to. You can still work here, and I’ll still pay ya a wage. If you decide to split with me after a safe amount o’ time, you can save up for when ya strike out on your own, or whatever you decide to do.”
You sniffled and blinked rapidly, on the verge of tears again. “You’d really do that for me?”
“Well, sure,” He repeated. “If it’ll help ya out.”
“That’s just about the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me,” You said.
“You must not know all that many good folks, I wager,” He said seriously.
You lowered your gaze. “Not really.”
“Hmm,” He hummed. He sat down on the ground from his kneeling position and rested his elbow on the stool. “What made ya think I hated ya?” He asked in curiosity.
“You were pretty mean to me when I first came here. You’re not all that nice now.”
“I’m pretty mean to everyone, not just you,” He said dryly. “To be blunt, I didn’t feel any type o’ way towards ya when I first met ya. If anything, I was impressed ya didn’t turn ‘round and leave as soon as ya saw me. First one who didn’t, actually. My sunny disposition doesn’t suit most folks, ya know, but I never hated ya.”
“You didn’t do much to reassure me to the contrary,” You said.
“I didn’t owe ya nothin’,” He sniffed.
You laughed a little, but sobered. “It’s just that… the way you behaved at first… it reminded me of my father. He hates me, of that I am certain.”
“Or are you just assumin’ that, like you did with me? How do you know he hates ya?”
“He’s told me,” You said in a small voice. “He tells me all the time. He’s never told me why, but I assume it’s because of my mother, because he hated her, too. Their marriage was arranged, which he seems fine with, but there was something about her he simply couldn’t stand, and I must have inherited it. Maybe I look too much like her, I don’t know. All he ever tells me is what a burden I am to him and how he can’t wait to marry me off and get me out of his house. He’d have had me married off much sooner, but he wanted to be sure he’d find someone who treats me just as badly as he does.”
“Shit, girl,” He said softly.
"When I was little…" You said slowly. "I thought he was just a cruel person who was mean to everyone, but when he remarried my stepmother and my half-siblings were born… he’s like a different person to them. He’s kind to them, he smiles at them. I don't know what I did to make him hate me, but I would have done anything to fix it when I was growing up." You sighed heavily. “I don’t know why he’s so obsessed with my misery. It would have been far better if he were just indifferent towards me. At least then he wouldn’t enjoy my suffering so much.”
“Who could call such a man a father?” He mumbled, sounding taken aback.
You looked down at him where he sat. “What was your father like?”
“Dunno, never met him,” He said. “I grew up in an orphanage.”
“The one in Coleville?”
He shook his head. “Nah, the one I was at don’t exist no more. All for the better, really; it was a shitty place. You had to grow up mean to survive it.”
“That explains a lot,” You said with a smile.
He snorted. “I guess… if I had to say… the man who gave me this tavern would be the closest thing I had to a father. I didn’t meet him till I was in my late thirties and had lived a hard life as a mercenary, but he gave me a new purpose when I lost this.” He motioned at his missing right eye. “About the only person who ever thought I was good for anythin’.”
“He sounds like a good person,” You said, smiling fondly.
“Aye, he was,” He agreed. He fell silent after that, looking into the middle distance and seeing something you couldn't.
“Do you think… he’ll be back?” You asked, nodding toward the door.
“Not if he knows what’s good for ‘im,” Takarad said with a sneer. “I’m more concerned he’ll have that papa o’ yers in tow if he does.”
“Trust me, I’m worried about that, too,” You admitted, frowning. “I genuinely hoped to never see either of them again.”
“Well… for now, don’t you go worryin’ that curly little head o’ yers,” He said, poking the corner of your down-turned mouth with his thick pointer finger, and you smiled. “We’ll handle it if it comes. No sense getting your knickers in a twist about it right now.”
“You’re right,” You told him, taking a large breath.
"So… whatcha think?" He asked slowly. "About my offer."
You smiled shyly. "If it wouldn't be too much of an inconvenience to you, I'd like to accept. Thank you."
"S'fine," He replied. He stood up and went back behind the bar, the conversation apparently over. “Ya oughtta go to bed. We got a full day tomorrow.”
The next day, the first proper cold day of winter, the two of you went down to the magistrate’s office to file for a marriage license. It was the first time the tavern was closed during the breakfast rush in many years, but there was nothing for it.
Marrying Takarad didn't take long at all, it turns out. All you needed to do was sign two copies of a marriage license and verify that you consented to marry Takarad, as in you weren't being coerced into doing it, in front of everyone at the magistrate's office, which was quite a few people since it was in town hall. Takarad seemed uncomfortable with so many eyes on him during the affair, and seemed anxious to leave. He was given one of the marriage licenses to keep, and the two of you went back to the tavern to open up.
When you arrived at the tavern, there was a letter nailed to the front door addressed to you. Takarad yanked the nail out of the wood and handed the letter to you. You stared at it, but put it in your bag without reading it. Takarad grunted but said nothing.
The work day went by slowly but uneventfully, and at the end of it when the last patron left, Takarad bolted the door and turned to you.
"Didja read the letter?" He asked.
You shook your head. "I know the contents are probably unpleasant. I didn't want to be upset while I was taking orders."
"That's fair," He replied. "Are you gonna read it? 'Cause I'd recommend just chuckin' it, myself. No reason to let the bastard ruin your weddin' day."
You smiled softly. "It is my wedding day, isn't it?" You said. "I hadn't thought of it like that." You sighed and cracked the wax seal on the letter. "I might as well. It may be the last words I ever receive from my father."
Takarad leaned against the bar with his arms crossed. "If you say so."
The letter read:
To my delinquent daughter,
You are the product of your irksome mother, so I suppose I shouldn't be surprised you decided to cause me trouble at the very moment you were to be the most useful to me. You owe me for feeding and housing your disagreeable personage for all your miserable years, and you will do your duty as my daughter or I will ensure you regret ever having been born, do you understand?
Baron Bronwyn has been gracious enough to take someone as plain and contrarian as you as his wife in exchange for your dowry, and I get access to the land he owns. Bronwyn is under-utilizing the resources he possesses, and needs me to guide him to his fortune. Not only will you be the daughter of the most wealthy baron in the country, but you will also be the wife of the second most wealthy baron in the country. This is a perfect opportunity for you to make up for the deficiencies of your birth, and you've decided to squander it. While I knew you to be a fool, I did not imagine you would be this stupid.
Be useful for once in your godforsaken life and return. If you do not, then you are of no use to me and you might as well be dead. Goodness knows I'd be at ease, were that the case. If you cannot perform your role as a noble child, do both of us a kindness and exit this world of your own accord.
Return with Bronwyn and marry him as I command. Or just die. Either way, you'll no longer be my problem.
Signed,
Baron Corbin Ronnel
By the time you were finished reading, you were sobbing uncontrollably. Takarad yanked the letter out of your hands and read it, scowled blackly, and tore it to shreds, flinging the pieces into the cooking fire.
"God," He said. "I didn't really believe your pa was as bad as you said, but he certainly proved me wrong."
"He's always been like that," You said. "If I wasn't confined to my little room in the attic, I was dragged before him so he could complain loudly at me. That letter is about what I'd expect. Except…" You sniffled. "I didn't expect him to tell me to kill myself. I knew he hated me, but that's a level I couldn't have imagined."
You wept into your hands for a little while as Takarad stood awkwardly nearby, watching.
"Look," He began uncomfortably. "He can't make you do nothing. You're hitched. Him and that Bronwyn prick are shit outta luck. He's just lashin' out at you because he's pissed off you aren't being the good little slave he raised. You're safe right now. Right?"
You nodded. "I understand."
“If you get it, then stop fuckin' cryin'!” He shouted.
You took an instinctive step backward, shrinking and lowering your head. The tone in his voice caused more tears to gather in your eyes. “I'm sorry.”
“No, I… fuck,” He said, and when you looked up again, he was scrubbing his face with his hands. “I didn't mean to snap at ya, s’my fault. Sorry. I just… dunno what to do when women cry. It makes me uneasy.”
“Could you… hug me, maybe?” You suggested boldly, surprising yourself.
“Aye?” He replied, equally surprised. “Would that help?”
“Immensely,” You said. “No one has held me since my mother died. It always made me feel better when I was little. And your fur looks soft. I was curious what it felt like.”
“You won’t feel odd, huggin’ a stranger like me?”
“You’re hardly a stranger,” You reminded him. “I've known you half a year already. And you’re my husband now, right? We’re married. You're the only person I could ask.”
“I s'pose that's so,” He said quietly, contemplative, and knelt down, opening his arms. “If you're sure… C'mere, then.”
You approached him and stepped into his arms, putting yours around his neck and burying your face in the fluff of his mane. His hands went around you cautiously, as though he'd never embraced a woman before, and settled around your back.
“Is this better?” He asked.
“Yes,” You replied. “This feels nice. Thank you.”
“If it helps,” He said, muffled against your hair. “I don’t mean to be like this all the time. The yellin’, I mean. I’m just… a loudmouth and don’t think things through before I open my big yap. I’m not used to comfortin’ folks or bein’... friendly-like."
You chuckled. "I'd never have guessed."
He snorted into your ear. "Bein' an asshole has been enough to fix all my problems in the past, even if it caused the problems in the first place, and I s’pose I don’t know how to stop. Been one all my life and it suited me pretty well. Til’ now, I guess.”
You snickered. “That’s alright. You said sorry. No one’s ever told me they were sorry before. And you can learn how to be nice, you know.”
“I dunno,” He said with a laugh in his voice, or the closest thing to a laugh you’d heard him make. “I’m an old cat now and I don’t know how open I am to learnin’ new shit, but I could try. I don’t think there are too many folks I care all that much about comfortin’, to be frank. Just you, maybe.”
“That’s alright, too,” You told him, cuddling him in tighter. “Granted, I’m not all that familiar with how to do it either, but I know what feels bad. I can teach you not to do those things. If you like, I mean. We are going to be married for a while, after all. At the very least, we could be friends, right? It would make sense if we could actually support and take care of each other, even if it's just an arrangement of convenience.”
“Sounds alright to me,” He said, pulling away a little. “Feelin’ better now?”
“Yes, much. Thank you,” You told him, releasing him.
“S’fine,” He said, and a shadow of a smile creased the sides of his mouth. “What’s a husband for?”
You flushed a little. “If we want to sleep before the breakfast rush, we better get this place cleaned up.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Takarad said, standing straight and reaching for the broom. “After you.”
Tidying didn't take much time, and when you were done, you made to go down into the basement and sleep, but he stopped you.
"It's… uh…" He began slowly. "It's the first day of winter and it's gonna be really cold tonight. Maybe you should… come upstairs… and sleep in my room."
You looked at him in shock, briefly at a loss for what to say.
"I won't do nothin' to ya!" He said, holding up his hands hastily. "I promised I wouldn't touch ya, and I meant it. I just thought… well… that cellar gets freezin' in the wintertime. It wouldn't be good for ya to sleep down there when it's real cold 'cause there ain't no hearth or nothing to keep you warm. Like you said… we're married now… so sharin' a room shouldn't be no problem. You can put your bedroll down on the floor or you can sleep in the bed with me, whichever suits you. The bed'll be warmer, but it's your choice."
"I think I'll just put the bedroll down, if that's alright," You said.
"Sure, sure, that's no trouble," He said, scratching his neck. "Be quick-like. I'm tired."
"Alright," You replied, and rushed to bundle up your bedroll and take it upstairs to the only bedroom there was.
Inside was small but comfortable. There was a wide bed, a table with a single chair, and a very small, unlit fireplace that Takarad was fussing with. There were two windows on either side of the room, both with curtains that were due for a wash. The light wood made the room seem bright, even at night. It reminded you a lot of your attic room, the only safe place in your father's house. You smiled.
Takarad lit the fireplace and a warm light filled the room. You lay the bedroll out next to the bed, close to the fireplace but not so close that the fabric would catch fire.
"You only got your coat for cover?" He asked.
"Yes," You replied.
"Ain't you cold?"
"The fire will warm me well enough," You said, laying down. "I've made do with worse."
He frowned and grunted, but said nothing.
"Goodnight, Takarad," You said as you closed your eyes.
"Yeah," He said, getting into the bed. It creaked a little as he settled into it. Within a few moments, he was snoring softly. You smiled and slept.
The next morning, you opened the tavern as normal. The news that the two of you had married must have spread through the town overnight, because a couple of patrons congratulated you and Takarad, inviting Takarad to share a pint with them. Takarad didn't respond, merely grumbled under his breath. You knew him well enough by now to know that he was feeling shy and embarrassed, and you thought it was kind of sweet.
You were pleasantly surprised when a couple of women from town, one older and one younger, came in and gave you some wedding gifts, a whole quilt and some knitting supplies, which you weren't expecting at all. They told you to come and have tea with them sometimes when you had a moment to yourself, and you were taken aback. You hadn't even considered the possibility of having female friends before. You felt yourself blush shyly and you thanked them profusely, and they smiled kindly at you. They introduced themselves as Mary and Tyana, and told you that you were welcome in their homes anytime.
After they left, you turned to put the gifts away and found Takarad watching you, a strange, soft expression on his face. When you caught him staring, he straightened and turned back to the stove, busying himself awkwardly. You grinned and took the gifts upstairs, laying the quilt over the bed and putting the knitting supplies on the table.
That night, you went up to the bedroom and found Takarad looking at the quilt on the bed, frowning.
"Shouldn't you use this?" He asked.
"It looks better on the bed," You said.
"It was for you," He insisted.
"It was for us," You replied. "You should have it. It's already nice enough of you to sacrifice your time to marry me and to let me sleep in your room. You should use it."
"My time ain't as grand as all that," He said with a scowl. "Nor is this room. There's no point in puttin' yourself out like this just 'cause I did one or two nice things for ya."
"I'm not putting myself out," You said. "This is already much better than the cellar, after all."
He shifted uncomfortably. "I… shouldn't've made you sleep down there in the first place. It weren't… appropriate-like."
You laughed. "All I asked for was a dry place to sleep. You gave me that. If not for that, I'd have been sleeping on the doorstep. This is fine."
He growled. "Well… if you insist, I won't keep fightin' ya on it. But… if you get too cold, take the quilt. Or jump up in the bed. I won't mind neither."
"Of course," You said with a smile, laying down in the bedroll. "Goodnight."
"Yeah… 'night," He said, getting into bed.
The next morning, before dawn and before the tavern was due to open, there was a knock on the door. Your heart jumped into your throat and you backed up into the bar, holding a tray tightly against your body. Takarad glanced at you and went to the door, opening it.
"Didn't I tell you not to come back here?" You heard him say.
"I want to talk to you," Someone outside replied. You recognized the voice immediately as Bronwyn. "Man-to-man."
"I don't see a man in front of me," Takarad said evenly. "I see a dog who can't keep his hands to himself."
"I can touch my fiancee however I like," Bronwyn retorted.
"She's not your fiancee," Takarad told him. "She's my wife." He fished something out of his vest pocket and handed it to Bronwyn. You couldn't see what it was from this vantage point, but you assumed it was the license.
There was a pause. "You're lying!" Bronwyn shouted. "You commoner bastard! You can't marry a noblewoman! It's against the law! The crown will invalidate your marriage as soon as they catch wind of it!"
"So?" Takarad said, unbothered. "As far as I'm aware, her pa is the one who'll be at fault if she was to marry outside of the nobility, not me. I ain't got no reason to fear the crown's judgment. And I've already taken her chastity. She's mine. You really gonna try and claim another man's woman?"
"You fucking pig!" Bronwyn exclaimed. "You know what? I don't care if that whore laid with another man. I touched her first, she was already used goods before you put your dirty hands on her. Annul the marriage and let her return with me and I'll reward you handsomely. Enough to buy you a hundred shitty taverns."
"Not interested," Takarad said, folding his arms. "I don't care about your money, or her pa's money. There ain't enough coin in the world that'll replace a good woman. That's not something I'd expect some rich, dandy git like you to understand."
"You'll regret this," Bronwyn said. "I'll make sure of it."
"Sure, whatever you want," Takarad said, slamming the door in Bronwyn's face. He turned to look at you, shivering against the bar with a tear on your cheek, and came close.
"You… uh… you want a hug?" He asked.
You smiled and nodded. He knelt again, like he'd done before, and pulled you against his chest.
"Thank you," You mumbled. "For not taking his offer."
"I ain't go no use for that prissy asshole's money," He said simply. "And I don't wanna look for another barmaid, truth to tell."
You laughed and stepped back. "Thank you all the same."
"Sure," He replied. "Hopefully he got the message and will take it back to your pa. You'll be disowned, if you're lucky."
"Let's hope," You said. "I worry about what Bronwyn will do. He's the type to hold a grudge forever."
"I assumed as much," Takarad said. "I'll deal with it."
You heard through bar gossip that the man in the fancy clothes had left town a few days later. Relieved, you put him out of your thoughts. You assumed he'd be back at some point, but you hoped he'd bring the news of your marriage to your father and he would officially write you out of the family book.
Time passed peacefully.
One night, mid-winter, you woke shivering to find that the fire had gone out. You got up to relight it, only to find the firewood stack empty. The idea of going outside to pull more in made you shudder. You looked over and saw Takarad snoozing calmly in the bed, looking extremely warm. His fur was likely very cozy to sleep against. You stood there in the cold room, debating whether or not to just swallow your pride and ask to sleep in the bed.
"Takarad," You called softly, reaching out to touch him. He snorted awake instantly and his hand shot out, grabbing your hand.
"Shit, girl, I coulda decked you," He said. "What's the problem?"
"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. The fire has gone out," You said.
"Oh," He said, rubbing his eye. "Do you need me to relight it?"
"No," You said. "There's no more firewood. I don't want you to have to go to so much trouble. I was wondering… does the offer to sleep in the bed with you still stand? We won't need to use so much firewood, if that's the case."
He searched your face. "You sure?"
You nodded.
"Well… yeah, if you want…" He said, scooting over in the bed and lifting the covers. "Get in."
The bed linens were blessedly warm and you groaned with delight when you got under the covers.
"Dammit, girl, you're freezin'!" Takarad said, inching away from you. "Stay over there!"
You laughed. "Sorry. Thank you for sharing the bed."
"Yeah, s'fine," He said. "Go to sleep."
You snuggled into the bed, sighed, and slept.
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