run little lion man

Ciar Pierce. Indie Original Character roleplay blog. 21+ only. Private/semi-selective. Multi-verse. Written by Fool. Follows from @strings-have-been-cut.

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@scouser​ - independent original character. written by fool. 21+ only. multi-verse. private. selective.  || including star trek, marvel, sci-fi, fantasy, and more  || click here for navigation 

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What brand of stupid are you?

Smart until infected with stupid

You think you're safe don't you? You are probably the responsible one in the group, perhaps even the mom friend. You are relatively smart but all it takes is one little thing to suck all your brain cells out. It could be hanging around your fellow stupid friends, it could be being left alone, it could be having a bit too much fun. The stupid lives inside you and it just takes the right environment for it to show.

Tagged by: @empathicstars

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@empathicstars​ // Aella Moore ;; 

   He fought to find his feet beneath him, and she recognized that in the turmoil, he had forgotten his cane. Of course, it would fall to her to fetch it for him — and so she began to lower herself, wrap her non-injured hand against it. 

   The tiny movement nearly threw her onto the ground. It was as though the walls and ceiling were slipping from her on all directions — as though the floor was sinking, spinning. Something like nausea settled into her, so heavily she was confident she’d fall to the floor in the cane’s stead. An exchange of sorts — it for her. 

   But she pushed through it, as she knew how, and placed the handle against one of his hands so he knew it was held out to him. 

   He asked her if she needed medical attention, and her “No” was not quite a lie. After all, even had she been alone, she would not have gone to the medbay. Strange, was it not? It almost felt as though she had done something despicable — that she were in the wrong, and must safeguard some secret to protect her safety. 

   It did not mean, however, that she was not in pain. Luckily — or unluckily, depending on how one perceived it — she was used to dealing with that alone. 

   Besides — his wish to not go to the medbay ( she could sense it, almost something desperate and scraping and against his throat ) was so powerful that even if she had, she would not have gone to save him the further pain.

   “Junior Lieutenant Monroe and I share a bridge shift. He is a security officer. He’s rather distractible…” Ah. As was she, evidently. That was not pertinent information — but the dizziness, the ache in her head was so all-consuming… Focus, Aelliana. Focus. Focus, focus, focus. Lieutenant Pierce’s pain. His budding frustration. His question. Focus. Focus focus focus. 

   One of her fingers twitched — the only outward display that there was any struggle at all. Even her breath was perfectly even. 

   “One of those with him… Lieutenant Monroe calls him ‘Barium’. It is not his real name. But the two of them are very close. I… did not know the others.” 

Six took his cane, holding it too tightly to appease some of his frustration. “Thank you. Is there a way we could...” Report them. They should report them...shouldn’t they? He was conflicted. Somehow, reporting this to Dr. Crusher seemed like it might just result in his dismissal from the Enterprise. Mentioning this to a superior officer struck him with anxiety - the prospect of that sort of attention made him nauseous. “Nevermind.” The only thing that would change his mind was Aella’s safety. It seemed he was at fault, however. They only went after her because she stood up for him - something he absolutely blamed himself for. 

He couldn’t concentrate. He was too upset. In too much pain. He couldn’t figure out what sort of condition she was in, but at the very least she was shaken if not seriously injured. He should have been able to protect her.

“Would you still be willing to escort me?” He huffs out a quiet laugh. “I wouldn’t ask you if I thought I could get there on my own. But if you’d rather I call for someone, I understand. I...I’m sure you’ll want nothing to do with me right now.” He scolded himself silently for allowing that sort of self-hatred escape from his thoughts.

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@empathicstars​ // Aella Moore ;; 

   As he moved, she felt a strike of pain in her ribs, which must meant that it came from his — they were likely bruised, or broken, but she knew from experience that there was little that could be done for such injuries but rest. She hated that he had to experience any of this, despised that there was nothing that could be done, loathed the helplessness that— 

   … What was that? 

   It was though the shades of his emotions sharpened, for a moment, spoke clearly when they usually only alluded. It was not until he apologized that she understood — he’d spoken to her again, somehow. For politeness’ sake, she would have responded in turn, but… she did not know how. 

   In any case, the anger that had dissipated seemed to be hitting her in strangely quick waves once again, and she could not understand — she had only just banished it — until the doors slid open and they were face-to-face with his assailants. 

   Ah. It was from them. 

   She held her arms out to shield Lieutenant Pierce behind her, was just about to tell him to go back into Ten Forward when—… 

   Suddenly, she felt weightless — her stomach and feet far too light. There was excruciating pain that grit into her forehead, and then everything was heavy again, much too heavy, like lead, like sinking through quicksand, like being swallowed by the sea. 

   Someone had thrown her to the ground, and on her lips, already, she tasted iron.

   The pain in her head kept her on her knees for too long, she knew. She attempted to fight past the wall of gray and white dots, of falling floors and spinning ceilings, but despite her most concentrated efforts, it took several seconds before she was on her feet again. 

   Whoever it was that had thrown her first time threw her the second. ( Or so she assumed — the blur of shades felt the same. )

   This time, it was her elbow that ached, and with it, as though she had been cut and were now bleeding it uncontrollably, came a memory. 

   “We hardly have to touch.” She could never forget looking up at a white sky, hazy dark figures of children blotting out the suns. Their faces grew closer — scientists looking through a microscope at a bacteria, wide and interested and restrained disgust. “It’s so easy. It’s like… a clay doll.” 

   Back then, when they had hit her, she had not risen so quickly. It was easier to allow them to get it over with, and there would be no point in her fight. This time, though, she put her feet beneath her once again and stood before his form, both arms stretched out once more. 

   “Enough!” 

   She could cite regulation. She could ask them what they were attempting to gain from their cruelty. But Aella recognized that all would only rile them up further. So she simply stayed stalwart, stayed in their way, until they were tired of her and Lieutenant Pierce, and left of their own accord. 

   Now Lieutenant Pierce was bleeding — it settled an ugly feeling in her throat, in the pit of her stomach. ( Perhaps, though, that was a function of how horrifically her head hurt, now. ) 

   With her right arm — her left was injured, but she still lowered it to her side, bracing herself against the pain — she went to staunch the blood from her forehead, feeling it a step too far to attempt to help him with his. 

   “Yes.” Her voice was even, no hint of agony. “Are you? Can you stand?” 

She sounded alright, but he could feel that she wasn’t. She was in pain, confused, hurt, and above all she was angry. It surprised him how much rage she possessed and couldn’t help wondering about it even now when his head was spinning and he was struggling to take a breath.

“Yes, I think so.” But Six remained where he was, kneeling on the floor in the corridor. A whisper of voices filled his head like the tuning of a percussive orchestra. They were quiet enough to assume he was just hearing those in Ten Forward. The hall sounded empty save for the two of them. 

It took him two tries to steady himself on the wall and pull himself to his feet. It was only after he was standing that he realized he didn’t have his cane. “Do you require medical attention?” He wished to avoid Sick Bay in the worst possible way, but he didn’t want to risk it if she was injured. 

His brain was in such a whirlwind that he hadn’t even processed how wrong the situation was. “Did you know those officers?” he asked quietly. “They knew your name. Were they in your department?” How could they believe they would just get away with something like this? Perhaps they thought they were justified in hitting Six, but to hurt Aella? Someone so sweet and quiet. They must have known there would be some discipline involved.

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@empathicstars​ // Aella Moore ;; 

   And he was rather correct — there was an assortment of eyes on them. Concern, remorse, pity — they were there in abundance, sparks of light in the tumultuous darkness of her and Lieutenant Pierce’s feelings, building and boiling beneath them. But Aella took no solace in them. Despite them, they had stood by and done nothing. 

   It reminded her of dark eyes lifting up from reading. A What do you expect me to do, Aelliana?  A darkness spreading through her stomach, like ink dropped into water— 

   No. As quickly as it came, Aella shut the memory out, as though it were a tangible thing attempting to step inside of her. She could not afford to be angry again. He had flinched away from her in his fear, and the movement had snagged on her heart. 

   She understood, and begrudged him for it not — but, naturally, she loathed herself for being something that could cause another that feeling. 

   As she pulled her hands from him, she discovered she’d been holding onto… something… on his back. Something solid, near like another bone grown where it should not be. She spared it no further thought nor touch — simply withdrew, allowed him the space that he needed to move in abundance.

   “I would not mind at all.” 

   Her voice, now, was gentle, soothing, which she hoped did not sound patronizing. She moved his cane next to him, began to straighten up, meeting eyes with those in the room, causing them to glance away. 

   “I put your cane against your right foot. If you require assistance standing, I am here.” 

Her affect seemed to change. Yes, it must have been the events that had her so angry. He was not an embarrassment to her...foolish of him to think it had anything to do with him. It was simply a reaction...an assumption based off of how others typically react. But Aella Moore was unlike anyone else he had ever met. He had to remember to be careful not to assume anything about her.

Tentatively, he reached down to feel around for his white cane which he found immediately. He snatched it up off the ground as he struggled to push himself up to his feet. “Thank you.” Although there was a sharp pain in his ribs when he stood, and he was still catching his breath, he was determined to do it on his own. He steadied himself on a barstool long enough to take a deep breath and then headed toward the door without a word. 

He forgot, momentarily, that Lieutenant Moore was unlike other Betazoids. She did not communicate telepathically. His thoughts were pushed to her faster than he could stop them. Nothing as tangible as words, just a feeling that he was leaving now, and that he would appreciate company. “Sorry.” Another muttered apology, this time for his invasion of her privacy.

Anger hit him like a tidal wave as the doors to Ten Forward opened. So they were waiting. A flash of shock - was this a betrayal? - but he realized Aella had nothing to do with it. And they were likely now after her too. 

Without the potential of an audience, the men wasted no time in pouncing. One rounded on Aella. ‘Out of the way, Moore! This doesn’t concern you.’ There was some reluctance in his voice, but that didn’t stop him from grabbing her and shoving her away, inadvertently into a bulkhead.

One of them grabbed Six by the shoulders and pinned him to the wall. ‘Go back where you came from,’ he spat. 

Six couldn’t help but grin. “You mean England?” The quip - stupid, but worth it- earned him another punch right across the jaw. He groaned and when the man released him he slumped back against the wall. 

The tangible nature of their hatred seemed to dissipate the further away they went and once again he caught his breath. She was still there. Somewhere. Anger spiked in him now. If they’d touched her... “Lieutenant? Lieutenant Moore, are you alright?” 

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@empathicstars​ // Aella Moore ;; 

   Ah — the apology. It grew from his lips, nurtured and cultivated by the sticky, sickly oranges, greens, grays of his shame. It seeped from him and ran her through. She lost all breath momentarily. 

   It did a fantastic job of chilling her anger, but she had to collect herself so her words did not come out on a sob prickling at her eyes, at her throat. 

   It was too familiar. It was too familiar. She was meeting herself — saving herself. Except… he was so much less deserving. So much less… 

   “You have nothing for which to apologize.” Her voice sounded dangerous — whispered, hard, sharp. Control yourself, Aelliana! 

   What was she doing being so volatile? What was all of her control worth if she lost it here, when it could harm another around her? Wasn’t that the whole point? 

   And so, in the wake of her own harshness, Aella paused to force herself to breathe. In time to the song of a lyre. In time to the ocean waves. In and out. Push and pull. Control. Calm. A bite-sized meditation. 

   “Take your time. When you are able, allow me to know to where I can accompany you.” Of course, this was based on an obvious assumption — that she was going to accompany him somewhere. To the medbay, to his quarters — it did not matter. Leaving him here like this was absolutely out of the question. 

She was so overwhelming to be near. There was so much emanating from her that he wondered how she could hold it in all of the time. How was she always able to portray such calmness about her when such chaos was just underneath? 

Not always so well hidden, it seemed. The tone of her voice, although likely not directed toward him, was so harsh that he flinched away from her. He felt he was being scolded. He had said the wrong thing again. 

They both took a moment to calm themselves, and Six found he was quickly grateful for her presence again. He had to walk out of similar situations like this alone, and just recalling those times cause his head to spin. 

It was surprising, however, that she was offering - although it was less an offer and more a fact he was being informed of - to escort him somewhere else. His first inclination was to tell her to bring him anywhere...just anywhere without people. Although he couldn’t see, he knew there were eyes on them, and embarrassment burned in his face.

His second inclination was to refuse her help. Politely. No one had ever offered to escort him to safety before. Although he knew better, it felt a bit like a trap. They had left awfully fast. Perhaps they were waiting just outside the door for Lieutenant Moore to deliver him...

No. She would not do that. The anger he felt from her was not directed at him. It was directed at those that attacked him. She was feeling...protective.

When he felt able, Six knelt up, sitting on his feet, slouched in on himself as if that would shield him from the bombardment of pity and awkwardness and the cacophony of confused thoughts seeped in through his usual mental barricade from those all around them. “Could...would you mind terribly if...just Deck Seventeen.” If he could make it back to his hallway, he could get to his quarters on his own.

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@empathicstars​ // Aella Moore ;; 

   The hatred did not abate, even when they bent to the small authority she’d somehow gained and left. How dare they mutter those sorts of things about him. About anyone — but especially him. He was kind-hearted, he was gracious, he was thoughtful. 

   All of this near reminded her of a Betazoid child living beneath twin suns, similarly cast on the ground at the foot of her Vulcan classmates — a child she’d forced herself to believe was far more deserving of vitriol, in order to explain the pain. 

   The anger burned Aella so fiercely, she felt as though she might cry out. But, as ever, she swallowed it away — even though it settled as a lump in her throat. 

   Instead of sobbing as she wished, she waited until the assailants had exited the bar before bending down to Lieutenant Pierce, placing a gentle, steadying arm against his back. It was only then that she saw his cane had rolled slightly… had they knocked that down, too? 

   Control yourself, Aelliana. The thought felt so all-consuming, she wouldn’t have been entirely surprised had someone told her she’d spoken it.

   She fetched it with her free hand, put it on the ground next to him, settled that hand, now, on his shoulder. The attempt was to steady him — help him find a center enough for the world to stop swaying. 

The physical pain began to subside. He was small and unaccustomed to fighting, although he sure was punched often enough that he should be used to it already. His breath was steadying. The room was beginning to slow down from its spinning. However, the accompanying anger filled him up. He could feel her - she was doing a poorer job than usual of hiding herself. Perhaps it was the proximity. Perhaps it was the course of events.

That’s when he realized her hands were on him. On his back. On his shoulder. He gasped quietly, cursing himself silently. He was unaccustomed to touch like this. To someone caring for him outside of a doctor. People didn’t touch XBs. People didn’t like them. He found himself so full of shame that she had to come in and interact with him in such a way. 

His voice came back to him eventually. “Lieutenant.” It was scratchy and missing all the confidence it had during their last meeting. Clouded by shame and the nausea that was seeping up from his stomach. “I...” What could he say to her? Surely, she could feel his embarrassment like he could feel her anger. That powerful, controlled rage that was burning in her. “I’m sorry.” 

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@empathicstars​ // Aella Moore ;; 

   The inclination in her mind had turned to a pressure, almost like a headache, or perhaps a split lip, or broken ribs, and her long strides turn to racing down the hallways, for once ignoring the manners upon which she lived. 

   If there was nothing there, she would be quite cross with herself for behaving so irrationally. 

   But quite unfortunately, something was happening. It was in Ten Forward — the doors slid open to reveal a group of four officers, some that even worked rather closely with her, standing before… 

   The last time she saw someone crumpled on the ground like this, she had hesitated — and that hesitation had cost them their life. This time, though, she found herself between Lieutenant Pierce and his aggressors, almost as though she had floated there, as if the movements themselves were entirely inconsequential. 

   The rage she felt boiling within her throat, rising into her fists, simmering the pits of her stomach, was rather well-hidden from the lines of her body and face. Her hands were folded behind her back in a passive parade rest — she held her chin high, a confidence rarely ever seen in her, despite the fact that she was a rather lithe 5’4” woman in front of a group coated in violence. 

   Though she was angry, she was not afraid. No. What happened to her happened to her… but to make another suffer… to make the one who had smiled at her so sweetly, said You seem very nice to her, for the first time… 

   “May I help you?” 

He almost thought he could feel her when she walked in, but no, it couldn’t be her. She moved with a stormcloud, not with a hurricane, although that’s definitely what entered. No. Not a hurricane. They were too chaotic. This was power controlled. This was a rage that was contained and calm and centered - a tornado, perhaps. Even as he sucked in as much air as he could get, even past the throbbing of his head, he could feel the energy, the anger. It was like something he had felt once from her before in a flash, but nothing like this. 

Still, when she spoke it was calm and quiet. Instead of raising her voice, she made the men work to listen to it. And surprisingly they did. Hearing her confirmed his suspicion - Lieutenant Moore had come to Ten Forward that night, but just in time. 

The men seemingly had nothing to say. What could they say to that? With a room full of witnesses and someone - someone they knew - challenging them, they couldn’t very well carry on, could they? Six would have been surprised they dared to do anything so violent in the first place had he not experienced it so many times before. It was amazing what people felt they were justified in doing when they didn’t like a person. 

They turned and left, grumbling more complaints and slurs against ex-Borg as they stalked from Ten Forward. Six wished to thank her - once his head stopped spinning. All one hundred and twenty pounds of him was aching, and he rolled over onto his front, groaning quietly - an attempt at an apology.

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@empathicstars​ // Aella Moore ;; 

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   Though, logically, Aella knew it to only be a few days, it felt as though it’d been eons since her birthday had passed. It was not particularly that she felt old, just that the memories of her short time with Lieutenant Pierce, in ten forward, sat around the same table and speaking briefly of their pasts, felt as though it had come from a completely different life.

   Yet, at the same time, it was so… present, in its remnants clinging to her memory. 

   So present and so, so loud.

   She went over the scraps she had offered him in her head at all hours — her mother had died, she’d been raised by her mentor, she grew up by the sea, she thought Vulcan was pretty… None of it was particularly large information, and logically, she knew she should not be embarrassed. 

   But his unending kindness… it stuck with her. 

   I am enjoying your company… if it’s not too forward of me to say. Ms. Moore, I feel perfectly comfortable speaking with you. In fact, I’d rather spend my time with you than Counselor Troi. Honestly, I’m enjoying this conversation. It’s the longest one I’ve had since coming aboard this ship. If you’re trying to convince me that you’re bad company, I won’t hear it. You’re interesting to talk to. You seem very nice, if your manners are anything to go by. I’m sure your mother would be very proud of you anyway.

   I guess I just wanted you to like me.

   … How could he say such things? He knew her so little. All he knew of her was that she was a Betazoid who had been raised on Vulcan. Those words were enough for a snap judgment, and every other that’d encountered her had judged her to be unworthy. Why was he different? 

   Why?

   Most of all, she could not understand why it affected her so.

   Aella had long grown used to other’s contempt with her. The ache never fully dissipated, but it was manageable. Manageable enough to deal with it only when she was sealed in her quarters. 

   But this was… different.

   There was a heat somewhere in her throat, or fingers, or cheeks, or wrists. It was something with the bite of nervousness — but no, it was not that, was it? Her heart raced, and if she focused on the feelings too long, they could even render her light-headed. 

   Did all feel this way when such kindnesses were offered to them? If so, it was abhorrent, and she couldn’t understand why others indulged in them.

   But… it was still not inherently a negative emotion. It did not bring her to her knees in tears like the others did. It did not hurt, even if she felt a bit strange caught beneath it. 

   It was on one such day, suffering beneath the weight of the memory of his words, that she thought she heard Lieutenant Ciar Pierce. Surely, it was a mistake. It was her mind torturing her, as it was wont to do — telling her things were there that weren’t. She pushed it aside, as was usual, in favor of her work. 

   But it grew. Like a thought becoming a word. Like a whisper turning into a shout. Something molding, out of her control, and… 

   Slowly, Aella rose, head turned, listening, feeling, seeing something that she knew was not truly there. But if it were, and she ignored it… 

   It could not do any harm to vaguely follow her sense, could it? If it led nowhere, it led nowhere, but… there was no injury in seeing if it were factual, was there?

   So, quite a bit more quickly than her pride would have appreciated, she sought for him. 

Six had thought of little else aside from their conversation. It had been the first time he’d had an extended conversation with another member of the crew outside of the line of work, although that was not the reason it stuck out in his head. He had not been lying when he said he’d enjoyed speaking with her - he found her inexplicably impressive and interesting - but like the first time they had met, there was an accompanied darkness that seemed to loom over her like a stormcloud. He had heard the way she spoke about herself, as if she could hardly believe he had any interest in her, and he wondered every day what could have made her have such a view of herself. 

He mistakenly thought that his next trip to Ten Forward would be as pleasant as the last. His company this time around, however, was nothing compared to Lieutenant Moore’s company previously. The first while he had spent alone, sipping a glass of synthetholic ale at the bar and wondering if Moore might return although chances seemed low. She was not the type to frequent that sort of establishment by her own admission, and Six thought perhaps their previous interaction may have scared her away. He felt foolish sitting there as if he were waiting for her when she had clearly said she had no desire to foster a friendship. Well. She had warned him not to foster a friendship with her.

After some time alone with his thoughts, however, he was met with a wave of anger - something he was becoming very good at identifying. This particular brand of anger seemed to follow people around whenever they spotted him. It was not just discontent - it was directed, accusatory frustration with him. Six could feel the hatred. As always, he turned his back on the officers as they approached the bar, but he heard the distinct sound of his cane clattering to the floor. 

“Thought this bar was for Federation citizens.” The comment was not directed toward him, but it was certainly loud enough for him to hear. And had that been the end of it, Six would have just let it go. Until he heard the follow up. 

“Not murderers.” 

He was on his feet before he could stop himself. It seemed that alone was enough to draw their attention...or so he assumed from the laughter. Now that he had their attention, it sounded like there were more of them. He allowed himself a glimpse into their minds - four in all. Six stood up a little straighter. 

“I am not a murderer.” His voice was shaking. 

A different man spoke now. “My uncle was killed in a Borg attack on Rises Colony,” he said, tone dripping with resentment. Great. Brilliant. Exactly what he needs. 

“That’s-” He can barely get a word out before there’s a blow to his stomach and he falls like a ton of bricks. Gasping for air, he attempts to kneel up, but a carefully aimed kick to his ribs knocks him down again. Great idea to come to Ten Forward, Six.

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@iamselfmade​ // Hugh ;; 

Oh. Whoops. He hadn’t noticed Ciar was visually impaired. Shit. Hugh’s face grew warm. That’s embarrassing. He somehow managed to recover. “Geordi was instrumental in saving my life. My implants had been badly damaged, he managed to create replacements. He is a very good friend to have for many reasons.”

He didn’t miss Ciar’s interest in Two’s name. “Two does go by their Borg designation. They are nonbinary and their former name did not reflect that to their liking. Plenty of ex Borg continue to go by their designations for many reasons, though they do refer to them as their names now.

“I am positive Two and Manny would be thrilled to meet you.”

Then he considered the information about Deanna- how wonderful it was she was helping him. “Deanna is very well versed in the issues the ex Borg face.” He couldn’t help but wonder if there was a smidge of guilt in there- guilt for not being there for Hugh when he so desperately needed it. Never seeing him, seemingly ignoring the emotions he was feeling. She had gotten so much better over the years. Hugh was fond of her as well. “If she has offered to be you counselor, I recommend taking her up on that.”

The thought about Deanna ignoring him way back when he was first rescued gave him another question. “How is your relationship with Captain Picard? Have interactions gone well?”

Six sighed a little bit. “They don’t use designations in Starfleet,” he said quietly. “It’s frowned upon, isn’t it? Reminds them too much of what we were. I have trouble thinking of myself as Ciar Pierce though. Sometimes I still introduce myself to others as Six of Ten. Don’t mean to. I can feel the discomfort when I do so.” He shrugs a little bit. “It’s nice to hear I’m not the only one who does that though.” 

He lit up a little bit at hearing there were other XBs that might like his company. “I would love to meet them sometime. That would really be lovely.” He used to be very sociable - something he was recalling slowly. He liked to meet new people. It was comforting for him to be in the company of friends. He had so much difficulty with that now due to the way people perceive him, and he missed it. 

“I will talk to her about it. I know I should see a counselor. They recommended during the re-introduction program. It is just...difficult to talk about to those who haven’t experienced it.” He knew he could trust Deanna, but if she didn’t want him to go to her out of a conflict of interest - she was his professional mentor, after all - he would be hesitant to talk to someone else.

“I have spoken to the Captain a few times...he seems like a decent man. His main priority is his crew and his ship, which he has made clear on every occasion.” That seemed to be the main priority of every Starship captain, however. “Do you know him well? Do you like him?” 

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@iamselfmade​ // Hugh ;; 

Hugh smiled sadly. “Things get better for many ex Borg. The nightmares never really go away- I still have them. They aren’t as bad as they used to be.”

He paused. “I still have difficulties laying flat. I was in the Collective nearly my entire life, so I am reliant on regenerating, which helps. Laying flat makes the nightmares worse. It has taken… work… to get where I am. We all deal with traumas no one else in the galaxy understands. But I can guarantee you others on the Enterprise have difficulties sleeping as well. And I also know two people in particular that have trouble interacting with others. One is the first friend I ever made. Geordi. I’m sure he would love to get to know you.”

Hugh paused. He thought about his recurring nightmares. Geordi being assimilated or killed. Failing his people. Something horrible happening to Beverly. Reassimilation.

“I find that the nightmares have been more manageable. At first, they were horrible. I talk to people about them. My closest friends- Two and Manny- they have nightmares as well. It’s something we bond over. If you want, I can get you in contact with them as well. They’d love to talk to you. Manny takes it upon himself to help us ex Borg adjust to individuality, and to feel good about themselves as individuals. I’m sure he can help.

“Have you been talking to Counselor Troi?”

The nightmares never really went away. Oh, good. He sort of liked them anyway. Always a good reminder of all the people he’d murdered and that. Just in case he’d started getting too comfortable with himself. 

It sounded like this was a good place to be - not that sharing trauma with people was ever good, but Six had learned a long time ago that building a community makes things more tolerable. Not easier, as many people thought, but manageable at the very least. “I’ve not met Geordi,” he said softly. “But I’ve heard of him. People talk about him often, and they tend to mention him to me seeing as we’re both visually impaired.” A strange connection to make between two people - he’s sure that they have other things in common - but at least it was a reason to pay him a visit. If people kept suggesting they meet one another, then they probably should be introduced.

Six perked up at hearing ‘Two’. “Your friend - do they still go by their designation?” It was rare to hear that. It seemed most ex-Borg wanted to separate themselves as much as possible, and Six did, it was just much harder than most people realized. “I would like to talk to them, yes. If you think they wouldn’t mind.” 

Deanna Troi was, as far as Six was concerned, a godsend. “Yes, I see her often, although not as a counselor. She is my mentor...and she has been suggesting that I speak to someone. If not her, than someone else. Why do you ask?” 

[castledock]

Honestly as a blind person I’m so tired of seeing fictional blind characters who don’t use white canes or other guides. “They have special powers so they know what’s around them” or “they’re confident enough to not need a guide” are common tropes, and I’m tired.

Are people scared that using a white cane will make their blind character seem weak? They can’t use a cane because they’re so special that they already know what’s around them, and other blind people who use guides are inferior because they’re not special?

I’m tired. Give your blind characters white canes and other guides. Let them hold onto their friends, let them have guide dogs. Don’t make white cane users feel ostracized for not being “strong enough” to go without.

Another thing that pisses me off is when a sighted character comes up with the fantasy equivalent of braille and teaches it to the blind character. Braille was invented by Louis Braille, a blind man, in 1824. The blind character should be the one coming up with it.

Tldr I’m blind and tired of sighted people lol

🔪 Sighted People MUST Reblog This 🔪

[ladylei-blog]

If you are going to write about disabled people, don't write about us like we are in need of being cured or fixed. Get input from us on the characters when writing about us, because we do have different experiences and feelings about how we navigate in a world that isn't built with us in mind. Some don't have any big changes needed while others do and there isn't the one kind of solution for everyone.

[scouser]

@empathicstars​ // Aella Moore ;; 

   Maybe we could do it again sometime?

   There it was. Even while accepting her pushing him away, he was still attempting to leave himself an opening. And who was she to deny it? Well – perhaps she was the person who had been resisting all of this all evening, perhaps the person who not too subtly instructed he leave, after all, but… 

   “I am always available if you require it.” 

   Giving him nothing and, still, in her own way, giving him something. The best she could do. 

   “Lieutenant.” It was just before he left that she spoke up, so contrary to herself, spoke spurred on by a throbbing in her chest. 

   She did not want to do this, but…

   “This will not make sense to you, but, ah… there is someone that, were he here, would wish to thank you, I am sure. So… thank you. On his behalf.” 

A straightforward answer that he should have expected. She would gladly speak to him if he required it in the line of duty, apparently. That was an appropriate answer - one that made him question if he had pushed the line with this entire conversation. He nodded politely, but couldn’t think of any way to respond to that offer. A ‘thank you’ would have been good, but when he opened his mouth it just didn’t come out. 

He turned to leave but stopped when she addressed him. Hesitantly, he turned back. She was right. It didn’t make sense to him, but somehow it was still extremely moving. He thought about that for a moment in silence. There was absolutely no reason to be thanking him, but he chalked it up to an personal, emotional experience she was having, and he was flattered that she shared it with him. Softly, he nodded, and said, “I hope someday you will tell me about him.” Six smiled once more, sort of sadly, before unfolding his cane and heading for the door. 

[scouser]

@iamselfmade​ // Hugh ;; 

Hugh smiled patiently. “Of course, ask as many as you’d like. It’s important for our stories to get out there.”

Hugh thought it was more important that he develop a sense of camaraderie with other ex Borg and teach those that had never been in the Collective about what it had been like for him than it was to shy away from the memories.

No matter how awful the memories were.

And many were awful.

Hugh would always be haunted by what he did in the Collective. What he did because of Lore. But he had also done many, many wonderful things. Things like this, working with people like him. It may not undo all the damage that he’d done, but it was a good start.

“What do you want to know?”

It was astounding how nice a person Hugh was, really, especially with all he’d been through. It was sort of common knowledge that he had been one of the Borg that had been with Lore - Data’s brother - and that he had been, and remained to this day, one of the leading people in the fight for xB rights. He had been through so much, and he was still so sweet. 

“After the program was over, I had no contact with any other ex Borg.” Obviously. There were none on the Enterprise and few opportunities for him to interact with others off the ship aside from written communication and the few subspace calls he could make. “I just feel...out of touch. I have trouble sleeping. Trouble interacting with others. Sometimes I feel like I’m the only one that does.” He didn’t know anyone on the Enterprise well enough to talk about things like that, and Deanna was only helpful in a professional capacity. “They said it would get easier...in the program. ‘Time heals all wounds’ and that. Have...things improved? For you? The nightmares...?” Surely, he had them too. 

[scouser]

@empathicstars​ // Aella Moore ;; 

   Each word seemed to reverberate harshly within her skull, send an imperceptible shudder down her spine. She did all she could to refocus herself, and remember: this conversation would not be a prelude to tragedy. It was illogical to presume that simply because something had happened once, it would happen again. 

   And still…

   And still, the terror remained within her like a drumbeat. As though it were the only thing of which she could be sure. 

   Her hands clutched at her tepid tea, and her eyes refused to raise. 

   She had told him so much… so much. This was wrong. This was horribly wrong, even if he were lonely, even if he were desperate. He should be spending his time elsewhere… 

   “It is getting late,” she began – a beginning to an end, by her halting tone. “You work alpha, do you not?” That was when she had seen in him the medbay, anyway. 

Oh no. He had made it worse. He had pushed her too hard and now she was leaving. Or...trying to get him to leave. He might not be great with social situations, but he at least knew when someone was trying to end a conversation. He heard it often enough. 

It was just abrupt enough for him to flounder a bit, stammering very quietly for only a second or do before fining his footing and recovering that perfectly charming tone of voice. “Oh! Er...yes. I do work alpha shift.” Could they just move on like this? Without addressing the abrupt ending to that conversation? Were they just pretending that everything they’d just shared never happened? 

Apparently so. “Yea, it’s about time I head off anyway.” He offered a sheepish smile and then pushed up out of his chair with one of those fake groans that makes it seem like it was a lot more effort than it actually was. The kind people use to fill silence in awkward situations. He had become one of those people.

“Listen, it was really great talking to you,” he said, sincerity poking through his practiced politeness. “Thank you for letting me sit for a while. Maybe we could do it again sometime?” 

[scouser]

@empathicstars​ // Aella Moore ;; 

   It was so strange to be in the presence of another Betazoid – to sense the way he was surmising her, likely based on what he could gather from his sensing of her. It was so impossibly unfair ( though she had long learned that the universe would always be such, and to expect otherwise was puerile ) that her entire life of control did not work on him. She felt as though she were failing. All of her was laid bare, open, and no adjustments to her face or body language could contain her at all from him. 

   And of course, he was on the medical team… with the power of decommissioning her, should he wish it. 

   ( And though she may not be able to recognize it, all of this recollection was perhaps a direct result of him believing she was relaxing in his presence. Perhaps she sensed that belief in some silent, subconscious way, and that realization frightened defenses back up. )  

   But, regardless – she staunched that panic, for the moment, not knowing a new one was just on the horizon. 

   “I agree that it is… strong… but they are not my words.” Even just lightly recalling the man who’d spoken them, Aella felt as though she could smell the cologne on his clothes and the alcohol on his breath, still, though he had been dead many years. Perhaps it was because the dead never truly or fully left her. 

   Perhaps we might end up as ‘family’ if we continue getting to know one another. 

   Family… 

   Something tightened in her chest, in her fingers, and she felt herself shaking, even as she attempted to solder herself down. The first time someone had said family in regards to her, she had said nothing – let her silence be an agreement. Now, this time… 

   “I… am… sorry.” Teeth clenched, slightly. “I cannot give that to you.” 

Now that was most certainly a negative reaction. He couldn’t tell for sure just why that was. Once again, it seemed a sudden and unwarranted, unbridaled panic that shook her. Judging by the tone of her response she could barely keep from lashing out at him, although he would bet money she’d never let something like that happen in public. 

“Give what to me? You don’t want to continue getting to know one another?” Or was it the term ‘family’ that had struck her so violently? He had perhaps stumbled upon whatever had been triggering her anxiety in the first place. Six didn’t understand. She had spoken of her mother and her family on Vulcan just fine only a few moments ago. There was something big he was missing here, but somehow he had hit the exact target he most likely should have avoided.

Six shook his head. “It’s alright, love. Whatever it is...we don’t have to talk about that. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” He knew he shouldn’t push, but he was so curious. And they had been getting along so well. Had he just ruined whatever they had built that quickly without even knowing how? 

“I wasn’t trying to replace anyone,” he added quietly thinking that, perhaps, she thought he was trying to erase the memories she had of her family or something along those lines. Every psychology lecture he had ever attended echoed in his brain looking for some possible explanation for her reaction. 

[matt-smith-fans]