The Good Samaritan & For Who You Are
The Good Samaritan
She had been overwhelmed once again, by the desperate need to light a cigarette and inhale it deeply, letting it envelope her being and soothe her until her shaking stopped and she was able to think clearly. It was something her body screamed for, hardly able to function without it, almost making her believe that everything would work out just fine if she had a cigarette. Just one. But she knew it would be bad, for her and the little life growing inside her. She refused to be one of those mothers that endangered their children so selfishly, but the urges were still there. Burning within her and clouding her mind.
So as a last resort, she dialled a number she had memorized, not that she had called it many times in the past, but it was significant and she knew it would be of use. She clutched the phone to her ear, desperate and waiting for someone to pick up. She sweated and she panted, itching for that cigarette. Her eyes flicked about the room, subconsciously looking for a packet just lying around, but what would she do if she saw one? Would sh-
“You've got through to the smoking helpline,” a voice monotoned in her ear, making her straighten, glad to have a saviour. “My name is Chey, and how may I help you?”
“Um,” the woman stuttered, “I need-I want... I want a cigarette!”
“Oh, do you?”
“Yes!”
“Well don't.”
“But I need it!” the woman cried, clutching the phone even tighter, “I can't stay strong. I must, but I can't! I... damn it, help me. Say something, please!”
“Cigarettes are bad.”
“Say something else!”
“Cigarettes are good?”
The woman began to cry in great heaving sobs and the phone loosened in her hand, “They're not good. They're awful, but I crave them. My baby...” she paused, unable to speak, “My baby... I-I can't smoke.”
“So don't.”
“Please, you have to tell me how I can control this.”
“Just don't smoke.”
“But-”
“Just don't smoke.”
The woman sobbed, “How can I-”
“Just don't.”
“Buh-”
“Oh shut up, you stupid cow. Don't smoke, alright? You have a baby? That's answer enough. Stop being so fucking emotional and don't smoke. What's wrong with you?”
“But I-”
“Blah blah blah. Get a grip. And get off the phone. You bore me. Shoo.”
Then the line went dead and the sobbing mother-to-be was left shaking, clutching the dead phone in her hand, traumatized. Now she needed a cigarette even more after that stressful conversation.
======================================================
So. I'm thinking of becoming a Good Samaritan, or whatever they're called. Helping people quit smoking, though, I do currently smoke. They need not know that though. I'm sure all they need is a firm guiding hand... to make them cry. Oh boo hoo.
~
Because I decided to post to chenzel_love, and it's been a day and the moderators still haven't accepted my post, I'm posting it here. A day. Seriously. What the hell.
Title: For What You Are
Author: light_spectre
Rating: R
Pairing: Idina/Kristin
Summary: This is angsty with some confused sex in it. Kristin can't seem to control herself and Idina can't seem to stop what's developed between them.
Disclaimer: I most certainly do not own these characters. No no no. Because, that would be weird, wouldn't it? Possibly? So, yes, I do not own. I own the WALL in this though. Yes I do.
Wordcount: 1,228
======================================================
For What You Are
The great map of Oz descended in front of them, with a final dusty whoosh, and the cast began to dissipate; most going to their dressing rooms, and some pausing to chat, laughing about the odd mishap during that night's performance or how their costumes itched. It was all such easy comradery, but as Kristin turned to Idina, centre of the stage and hand still clasping the green one, she knew they were the odd ones out. Not only set apart due to their significant status, but also because they weren't loud with each other, clapping themselves on the back, and smiling freely. Seperately but with the other members of the cast, yes, they were able to socialize and seem happy, but when it was the two of them, their friendship was forced. And even then it wasn't so simple; it wasn't that they didn't like each other, it was just that their friendship was pendulous. Tediously so, and as Idina pulled her hand out of Kristin's, with a sigh, she found herself tired. Tired and unwilling to face all the tension Kristin brought with her.
“Dee?”
Unaware of the lingering cast members, Kristin stepped forward, feeling clumsy in her oversized bright costume, but she compensated. Steady steps, elegant movement, and she reached a hand out to the slowly retreating back in front of her. “Dee,” she said, this time more of a whisper; “What's wrong?”
“Nothing.”
But Kristin was sure she knew the problem, and she knew it was her, so she stayed rooted to the spot, giving Idina the space she obviously wanted. She ignored the sympathetic eyes around her as the last of the cast left the stage, and crew members emerged, checking the tracks embedded in the floor.
She felt bad; she really did, and she dwelled on it as she slowly left for her own dressing room. She tried to lift her spirits with a smile directed at no one, but that didn't work and she sighed.
She hated herself.
Before Wicked, she had been happy - happy with herself and her achievements. She had so much to be happy about after all, but since the rehearsals in San Francisco, something had shifted in her and had forced itself free over the last three months, destroying Kristin's life and Idina's too. It affected how they were on stage, how they interacted with one another, how they interacted with the other cast members... it affected Wicked, and so even as Kristin stood outside her own dressing room door, she berated herself. She even silently cursed, and closed her eyes. Don't do this, she thought. Don't you dare. But as if acting on auto pilot, she turned and slowly made her way further down the narrow corridor. Don't-no, if she was quick, she could make it. She sped up, her skirts rustling in the most annoying way, but she ignored it. She felt warmer suddenly, as she stood outside the different door, and already her mind began to quiet, her conscience already only a vague whisper, desperately pleading and chanting for her to reconsider. Then it was gone, and without knocking, Kristin eased open the door. She didn't say a thing as she stepped into the room, and closed the door behind her, eyeing Idina still in full costume and staring into the mirror of her vanity. She didn't say anything as she stepped forward, either, quickly crossing the room and coming to a stop behind the green woman, close enough to smell her, to feel her body heat emanating in great waves despite the heavy act 2 dress.
“I have a headache,” Idina mumbled, her eyes closed. “It's,” she swallowed and she winced at the sound. Her throat was that dry. “It's too much...” but her voice trailed away when she felt the touch to her arm, only a hint through the thick material of the dark dress. “Please don't,” she whispered, but she was turning and found herself hunched slightly, with Kristin's lips on her own: demanding; passionate; bruising in their intensity, and it was at that point that Idina came to a conclusion similar to Kristin's earlier one.
She hated herself.
She hated herself for being so confused - for not being able to say no to Kristin, or to fully enjoy it how she had when this all first started. But there was something incredibly wrong with what they were doing, and she knew-she knew now, for a fact-that it was slowly destroying the both of them. And if Kristin couldn't save herself, then Idina should have been able to do it. A strong no. Some will power at least. Just don't do it. Don't. But now Kristin was even tighter against her, the layers and layers of fabric compressing between them, and making it so hard for Idina to feel Kristin's hands.
“Touch me,” Kristin murmured, her sky blue eyes having darkened to a deep ocean blue, obscured by heavy lidded eyes. “Please.”
And Idina sorrowfully nodded, reaching round, undoing the zips and clasps of the Glinda costume while smaller hands stroked up and down Idina's ribs; she could see the movement, could just about feel it, and Idina closed her eyes, her heart breaking more and more. Then it fell. The dress; and it stayed mostly upright from all the support and material in it, leaving Kristin clad only in sheer panties as she stepped out of it. Then she was against Idina again, coaxing her with her mouth and wandering hands. But those hands weren't for Idina's benefit. “Hurry,” Kristin pleaded breathlessly, and Idina turned them so that Kristin was against the nearby wall, with her hands everywhere, and kissing back with ardour.
“Yes,” Kristin moaned, and Idina closed her eyes, frowning. She skimmed a hand down, her fingertips sensually brushing their trail across skin, then massaging Kristin's heat through the damp silk. She pressed herself against her and kissed her as Kristin moaned and gasped. The panties soon fell to the floor, and going through the motions, Idina began thrusting, adding more when Kristin demanded it.
Of course there was a part of Idina that wanted this to happen; that loved it, that didn't want it to end, and ached to be touched in return. But she wasn't touched and it all came down to this moment. When Kristin went rigid in her arms, her eyes rolling back, then convulsing as she tightened around Idina's fingers. Gasps and that moan, that really didn't sound like Idina's name.
Idina used to stay close and hold Kristin, inhaling her scent, feeling something dangerously close to love, and then Kristin would eventually look up at her, with her slightly green lips and see Idina's slightly less green lips; then there would be tension. The first time, Kristin had even been about to reciprocate, and unzipped the Elphaba costume, only to find where the green ended, then stopped, sobered. Then the times after that, Kristin would make some excuse and hurry putting the costume back on, or if somehow, she had clothes already there, then she would wear those. But either way, she hurried, ashamed and blushing, while Idina stood, hating herself, and maybe even hating Kristin too.
Because, she knew, the whole time, that it wasn't her Kristin wanted. It was Elphaba.
"I'm sorry," Kristin said, not meeting her gaze. "I have to go."
======================================================
She had been overwhelmed once again, by the desperate need to light a cigarette and inhale it deeply, letting it envelope her being and soothe her until her shaking stopped and she was able to think clearly. It was something her body screamed for, hardly able to function without it, almost making her believe that everything would work out just fine if she had a cigarette. Just one. But she knew it would be bad, for her and the little life growing inside her. She refused to be one of those mothers that endangered their children so selfishly, but the urges were still there. Burning within her and clouding her mind.
So as a last resort, she dialled a number she had memorized, not that she had called it many times in the past, but it was significant and she knew it would be of use. She clutched the phone to her ear, desperate and waiting for someone to pick up. She sweated and she panted, itching for that cigarette. Her eyes flicked about the room, subconsciously looking for a packet just lying around, but what would she do if she saw one? Would sh-
“You've got through to the smoking helpline,” a voice monotoned in her ear, making her straighten, glad to have a saviour. “My name is Chey, and how may I help you?”
“Um,” the woman stuttered, “I need-I want... I want a cigarette!”
“Oh, do you?”
“Yes!”
“Well don't.”
“But I need it!” the woman cried, clutching the phone even tighter, “I can't stay strong. I must, but I can't! I... damn it, help me. Say something, please!”
“Cigarettes are bad.”
“Say something else!”
“Cigarettes are good?”
The woman began to cry in great heaving sobs and the phone loosened in her hand, “They're not good. They're awful, but I crave them. My baby...” she paused, unable to speak, “My baby... I-I can't smoke.”
“So don't.”
“Please, you have to tell me how I can control this.”
“Just don't smoke.”
“But-”
“Just don't smoke.”
The woman sobbed, “How can I-”
“Just don't.”
“Buh-”
“Oh shut up, you stupid cow. Don't smoke, alright? You have a baby? That's answer enough. Stop being so fucking emotional and don't smoke. What's wrong with you?”
“But I-”
“Blah blah blah. Get a grip. And get off the phone. You bore me. Shoo.”
Then the line went dead and the sobbing mother-to-be was left shaking, clutching the dead phone in her hand, traumatized. Now she needed a cigarette even more after that stressful conversation.
======================================================
So. I'm thinking of becoming a Good Samaritan, or whatever they're called. Helping people quit smoking, though, I do currently smoke. They need not know that though. I'm sure all they need is a firm guiding hand... to make them cry. Oh boo hoo.
~
Because I decided to post to chenzel_love, and it's been a day and the moderators still haven't accepted my post, I'm posting it here. A day. Seriously. What the hell.
Title: For What You Are
Author: light_spectre
Rating: R
Pairing: Idina/Kristin
Summary: This is angsty with some confused sex in it. Kristin can't seem to control herself and Idina can't seem to stop what's developed between them.
Disclaimer: I most certainly do not own these characters. No no no. Because, that would be weird, wouldn't it? Possibly? So, yes, I do not own. I own the WALL in this though. Yes I do.
Wordcount: 1,228
======================================================
For What You Are
The great map of Oz descended in front of them, with a final dusty whoosh, and the cast began to dissipate; most going to their dressing rooms, and some pausing to chat, laughing about the odd mishap during that night's performance or how their costumes itched. It was all such easy comradery, but as Kristin turned to Idina, centre of the stage and hand still clasping the green one, she knew they were the odd ones out. Not only set apart due to their significant status, but also because they weren't loud with each other, clapping themselves on the back, and smiling freely. Seperately but with the other members of the cast, yes, they were able to socialize and seem happy, but when it was the two of them, their friendship was forced. And even then it wasn't so simple; it wasn't that they didn't like each other, it was just that their friendship was pendulous. Tediously so, and as Idina pulled her hand out of Kristin's, with a sigh, she found herself tired. Tired and unwilling to face all the tension Kristin brought with her.
“Dee?”
Unaware of the lingering cast members, Kristin stepped forward, feeling clumsy in her oversized bright costume, but she compensated. Steady steps, elegant movement, and she reached a hand out to the slowly retreating back in front of her. “Dee,” she said, this time more of a whisper; “What's wrong?”
“Nothing.”
But Kristin was sure she knew the problem, and she knew it was her, so she stayed rooted to the spot, giving Idina the space she obviously wanted. She ignored the sympathetic eyes around her as the last of the cast left the stage, and crew members emerged, checking the tracks embedded in the floor.
She felt bad; she really did, and she dwelled on it as she slowly left for her own dressing room. She tried to lift her spirits with a smile directed at no one, but that didn't work and she sighed.
She hated herself.
Before Wicked, she had been happy - happy with herself and her achievements. She had so much to be happy about after all, but since the rehearsals in San Francisco, something had shifted in her and had forced itself free over the last three months, destroying Kristin's life and Idina's too. It affected how they were on stage, how they interacted with one another, how they interacted with the other cast members... it affected Wicked, and so even as Kristin stood outside her own dressing room door, she berated herself. She even silently cursed, and closed her eyes. Don't do this, she thought. Don't you dare. But as if acting on auto pilot, she turned and slowly made her way further down the narrow corridor. Don't-no, if she was quick, she could make it. She sped up, her skirts rustling in the most annoying way, but she ignored it. She felt warmer suddenly, as she stood outside the different door, and already her mind began to quiet, her conscience already only a vague whisper, desperately pleading and chanting for her to reconsider. Then it was gone, and without knocking, Kristin eased open the door. She didn't say a thing as she stepped into the room, and closed the door behind her, eyeing Idina still in full costume and staring into the mirror of her vanity. She didn't say anything as she stepped forward, either, quickly crossing the room and coming to a stop behind the green woman, close enough to smell her, to feel her body heat emanating in great waves despite the heavy act 2 dress.
“I have a headache,” Idina mumbled, her eyes closed. “It's,” she swallowed and she winced at the sound. Her throat was that dry. “It's too much...” but her voice trailed away when she felt the touch to her arm, only a hint through the thick material of the dark dress. “Please don't,” she whispered, but she was turning and found herself hunched slightly, with Kristin's lips on her own: demanding; passionate; bruising in their intensity, and it was at that point that Idina came to a conclusion similar to Kristin's earlier one.
She hated herself.
She hated herself for being so confused - for not being able to say no to Kristin, or to fully enjoy it how she had when this all first started. But there was something incredibly wrong with what they were doing, and she knew-she knew now, for a fact-that it was slowly destroying the both of them. And if Kristin couldn't save herself, then Idina should have been able to do it. A strong no. Some will power at least. Just don't do it. Don't. But now Kristin was even tighter against her, the layers and layers of fabric compressing between them, and making it so hard for Idina to feel Kristin's hands.
“Touch me,” Kristin murmured, her sky blue eyes having darkened to a deep ocean blue, obscured by heavy lidded eyes. “Please.”
And Idina sorrowfully nodded, reaching round, undoing the zips and clasps of the Glinda costume while smaller hands stroked up and down Idina's ribs; she could see the movement, could just about feel it, and Idina closed her eyes, her heart breaking more and more. Then it fell. The dress; and it stayed mostly upright from all the support and material in it, leaving Kristin clad only in sheer panties as she stepped out of it. Then she was against Idina again, coaxing her with her mouth and wandering hands. But those hands weren't for Idina's benefit. “Hurry,” Kristin pleaded breathlessly, and Idina turned them so that Kristin was against the nearby wall, with her hands everywhere, and kissing back with ardour.
“Yes,” Kristin moaned, and Idina closed her eyes, frowning. She skimmed a hand down, her fingertips sensually brushing their trail across skin, then massaging Kristin's heat through the damp silk. She pressed herself against her and kissed her as Kristin moaned and gasped. The panties soon fell to the floor, and going through the motions, Idina began thrusting, adding more when Kristin demanded it.
Of course there was a part of Idina that wanted this to happen; that loved it, that didn't want it to end, and ached to be touched in return. But she wasn't touched and it all came down to this moment. When Kristin went rigid in her arms, her eyes rolling back, then convulsing as she tightened around Idina's fingers. Gasps and that moan, that really didn't sound like Idina's name.
Idina used to stay close and hold Kristin, inhaling her scent, feeling something dangerously close to love, and then Kristin would eventually look up at her, with her slightly green lips and see Idina's slightly less green lips; then there would be tension. The first time, Kristin had even been about to reciprocate, and unzipped the Elphaba costume, only to find where the green ended, then stopped, sobered. Then the times after that, Kristin would make some excuse and hurry putting the costume back on, or if somehow, she had clothes already there, then she would wear those. But either way, she hurried, ashamed and blushing, while Idina stood, hating herself, and maybe even hating Kristin too.
Because, she knew, the whole time, that it wasn't her Kristin wanted. It was Elphaba.
"I'm sorry," Kristin said, not meeting her gaze. "I have to go."
======================================================