#...because then it feels like your suffering to prove yourself was POINTLESS...

[uncanny-tranny]

There's this pull in recovery to feel behind in comparison to your peer group, and that's, of course, a valid feeling. It's understandable, but I think a lot of what we don't remember is that... they often aren't starting out in the same place you are.

I think part of the reason so many feel terrible about "being behind" is that it feels like we have to blame ourselves for being behind. If you just weren't affected by it, you'd be right where your peers are, right? It's a way to blame yourself in severe cases.

Recovery isn't about "catching up," I think. It's about pressing the play button and letting yourself live. You might never "catch up," you might never be at the "same level," but that fundamentally doesn't change that your life is worth living how you want it to.

[tidestruck]

sejanus plinth as a metaphor for first gen immigrants. always feeling out of place because no matter how successful your family is everyone knows you’re not one of them. people finding your cultural practices strange and pointless and wishing you’d just assimilate. people resenting you because you’re an interloper stealing opportunities that should’ve belonged to them. the guilt you feel towards people back home who are still suffering for no reason other than they weren’t lucky like you were. feeling like you’ve betrayed your people because you get to live comfortably while they’re struggling to get by. the desperate need to prove yourself, to prove you haven’t forgotten your roots and can still contribute and make the world a better place for people like you. not quite fitting in anywhere, too privileged to be like the people where you’re from, but too much of an outsider to be like the people where you live now.

[physalian]

On Grimdark (Or conditioning your audience for cynicism)

Because Game of Thrones is on my mind again for the Hardhome sequence. Everyone has their two cents about the grimdark genre but one thing I don’t see discussed at much length, or widely enough, is how wrapping up a grimdark story has one unique challenge: If you establish a world where everything is miserable and characters are selfish and honorless and there’s no hope for heroism or selflessness, you will not be able to sell your audience on a satisfying ending unless everyone is dead.

What I mean by this is if you have your one little flicker of hope in your protagonist or even a side character, the odds of them having a happy ending in a world that you’ve written to consistently show the worst in people, that ending becomes too unrealistic to feel earned.

In other words, Game of Thrones, but also The Walking Dead and on some level, The Boys. In all three of these (have not caught up to The Boys past Jensen Ackles’ season), the threat of doom is so insurmountable that every victory is consistently one step forward, three steps back.

In GoT it’s corruption and the infallible nefarious ways of the villains and their villainous agenda that keep winning while the good guys keep dying. In The Walking Dead every beacon of hope for a cooperative society for humanity dug out of this zombie hellscape is squandered by organized sadism. In The Boys, the hero propaganda machine and institutionalized living weapons where even the good guys are bad guys, there is no way to win aside from nuking the planet and starting over.

—

I don’t mind grimdark academically. I think it’s interesting to explore as a way to interpret the psychology of the author and what compels someone to both write and enjoy content that’s just misery porn. Grimdark has its place in the cultural zeitgeist as a controlled dose of suffering to help us feel better about the world we live in, like watching horror movies for a controlled dose of terror.

It has its (not as deep as it thinks it is) cultural commentary about the human nature or the political landscape or how we treat our heroes or the tragedy of war, etc and tends to feel more gritty and realistic to what these fantasy worlds could be like without all the hope and optimism. There is a place for it.

However, constantly hammering your audience over and over again with a message of hopelessness and that chivalry is dead and that anyone smiling is naive, dumb, or lying Pavlovs your audience into expecting it all the way to the end.

Meaning: The ending of GoT was a dumpster fire, and it was always going to be. If this is the reason the author hasn’t finished writing it, I wouldn’t be surprised. This is a universe where (spoiler alert):

Sexism, racism, rape, assault, slavery, abuse, torture, child murder, and animal abuse are the law of the land.

Pedophiles walk among us and continue to get away with it (specifically Littlefinger) for far too long.

Even when the good guys take the bad guys down with them, the other bad guys resurrect the corpses of the defeated bad guys to continue carrying out their evil schemes, or Oberyn and The Mountain.

Children are burned at the stake for what amounts to be a pointless ritual, because her mother hangs herself and her father loses catastrophically in battle and then dies, or Shireen.

Sansa’s entire arc. All of it. She gets no reprieve for five whole seasons.

So when you’re staring at the mess you’ve made trying to come up with a satisfying ending for so many arcs, you find yourself with a problem: This world doesn’t run on happy endings. You’ve spent 7 seasons proving happy endings are childish and stupid. You have no way to end this cathartically, because by the rules of your world, all your heroes will end up murdered in gruesome ways. Congrats.

But maybe I’m just bitter.

Like this whole iron throne business. Melting it was the only course of action. Why? No matter who sits on it, the life expectancy of those who do is criminally short. Bran probably died choking on a chicken bone shortly after the end credits.

There is no evidence given in-universe for anyone disappointed that they didn’t end up king or queen to just sit back and take it without continuing to scheme and plot and get a lot of people killed.

There is no evidence to suggest that any of these people would realistically rally together to fight a common enemy without stabbing each other in the back once the threat is handled.

There is no evidence that these people would let bygones be and cheer for the new and just ruler to take the throne indisputably.

While the show does have its bright moments of camaraderie, loyalty, and trust, they are vastly outnumbered by the so-called “realistic” nature of the rest of Westeros. In no reality in the current canon would any leader be able to rule because they’re loved more than they’re feared. That’s not how this show operates, thus there is no way to end the series with your audience confident that Bran or Sansa or Jon or whoever would have actually led the kingdom into brighter futures. They’d just be dead just like their naive, dumb, dad.

—

The Walking Dead is no different. The unofficial motto of the show was that the walkers are bad, but the true enemy of humanity is other humans. Every new group of people either got murdered for being too weak, or did the murdering. In a world where the mortality rate vastly outpaces the birthrate and every group has become jaded and cynical enough to shoot first and ask later, anything less than humanity going out on a bitter and cynical end wouldn’t fit the established tone.

I didn’t watch past the season where Carl was killed off in the conspiracy of the year, but I didn’t think I had to. Killing off Carl was the beginning of the end—they symbolically and literally killed the future of humanity. Judith exists, but Carl is just old enough to remember what the world was like before, to have context for how humanity should be, where Judith doesn’t.

They never made any significant efforts to find a cure or more substantial means of eradicating the walkers. There was no overarching goal of the characters beyond Just Survive Somehow. It just wasn’t sustainable to ever have a satisfying ending, especially when no matter if you get bit or not, you become a walker when you die. So even if they all packed up and sailed to a remote island free from walkers, one unseen death could wipe out their entire camp.

It was always going to be a Sysyphisian task to end that show in a meaningful way, and I don’t think they even tried.

—

The Boys… man, I hate this show. It’s not bad, it’s just not as smart as it thinks it is with all its commentary on the political landscape, as the events they’re criticizing continue to unfold around us. Season two has neo nazis… as real neo nazis are still running amok.

It has the same preaching pitfall that so much liberal content does—if you get too preachy, those who already agree with you will feel talked down to and bludgeoned with your unsubtle message, and those who don’t agree with you won’t feel at all compelled to change sides if you spend every waking second of your show insulting them.

The supers in this show are so omnipresent, so powerful, so staggeringly OP that there is no solution beyond attempting genocide on all of them. There’s no legal avenue to pursue, because you can’t imprison them and they don’t care about petty attempts at enacting justice. You can’t arm the regular humans with basic guns and army gear when the main villain can just laser-eye them all in seconds. You can’t mount a peaceful protest movement or a resistance of any kind when telepaths walk among them and can literally stomp out any signs of nonconformity.

You’ve written yourself an unsolvable problem while trying to write a well-constructed criticism of politics and hero worship. If we can’t solve it in the real world in a single cohesive and satisfying narrative, what makes you think you can?

Anything that tries to kneecap the threat would look weak and cheap, because this show has stuck so close to the ongoing real world narrative. The supers aren’t all robot minions of a hive mind where one bomb that takes out the brain disables the entire hoard. Kill the main bad guy and another will just take his place. There is no winning The Boys, at least the story of it that I’ve seen, and I wasn’t impressed.

—

So no, I don’t like grimdark in application, in settings where you have long-running series with audiences dedicated to following arcs and expecting satisfying endings, because grimdark demands enemies and forces of evil that are just too insurmountable to write a cathartic ending that isn’t cheap or unrealistic.

In both GoT and TWD, since those have finished, they didn’t have to end as disasters. If both had sat down in the writers' room around season 4 of both shows and planned out their five-season step plan to shift the narrative away from grimdark and let their characters actually pursue a viable plan for fixing their miserable worlds, you can still kill off all the characters you want in the name of the end goal of whatever utopia they dream of. But the characters still have to work for it and sacrifice for it and maybe they do lose hope but they keep on keepin’ on despite it.

Grimdark sucks, in my opinion, because as a storytelling convention, it never ends. “Hey what if the world was miserable,” is all well and good, but if your goal is to entertain, how do you tell an entertaining story when the miserable world your characters live in will chew them up and spit out something unrecognizable? I don’t even need a happy ending, but the only convincing ending that grimdark allows is dead heroes and “life sucks get over it”.

—

I don’t know how The Boys is doing or how it will end and I don’t care. I hated it for a lot more reasons than its attempts at sounding smart, like Huey as the most annoying modern Everyman I have seen, and that they didn’t even try to redeem Soldier Boy or stick him in therapy to be an actual better alternative to Homelander, which is what they sought him out for in the first place.

So yeah. Grimdark. Maybe it’s just the late capitalist hellscape we find ourselves in, but why would I read it when I am living it, following characters who don’t have solutions, while watching real leaders who also don’t have solutions?

If you want to write in this genre, more power to you, just think about the long term, overarching goals of your heroes before you get too far in so you can start them on the long road to victory in a believable and satisfying way, otherwise you end up buried in a ditch like the endings of two television juggernauts.

[dufferpuffer]

Can I ask what your Sirius Black Sex headcannons would be? I read your Snape and Lupin ones, and they were written SO well!

Oh my god I wrote a whole thing out and I was proud of it and then the draft vanished Sirius Black is hard for me (heh) because he doesn't live in my skull, he just visits from time to time. He's a dear, always brings a gift... Sometimes he does the dishes.

...That's exactly who he is: A dear. Thoughtful, kind, sweet... far more genuinely than Remus, who tries hard to please others. Sirius only does what he wants to do. He isn't a doormat, he isn't proving himself, he isn't trying to impress - he just exists as he is. That's all he has ever had to do. He's always been 'good enough' for the people he cares about - and the people he doesn't care about he ignores. His heart is an open book. He expresses his true emotions brazenly. He faces all issues head-on. You always now what you're getting into with Sirius Black, because he will make it clear. (In comparison: -- Remus Lupin lies. He wears mask after mask to hide how he feels. He avoids dealing with altercations - even if it means letting things he thinks are wrong happen. -- Severus Snape is naturally much like Sirius - but it has been crushed. He has closed his book and holds it close to his chest. He has learned to hide the emotions he doesn't want to display under masks. He still faces issues head-on, but he has learned the value of sometimes waiting and watching to make the best move.) So he is genuine. He is honest. He can be as serious as he is playful. He is wise, too - he has experienced true suffering just as he has experienced true connection. He fights on behalf of other people, even at severe cost to himself - and he doesn't back down. Mix that in with being tall, handsome, a little dark but incredibly sweet - and all the manners of being raised in a Pure-blood household, with none of the pointless formality... People often think he is more flirtatious than he actually is. He isn't flirting when he sits down and listens to your troubles, holds your hand and sympathizes, looks you in the eye and lists the good qualities he sees in you - despite only knowing you a short while. That's just who he is. He is the sort of man people emulate when they are trying to impress others. He suffers for that, as people think he is being fake and manipulative. He is 'too perfect' for his own good lol

He charms people by being himself, they lust after him... and when they realize he 'didn't mean it' they get insecure and blame him. ...Romantic/sexual relationships are such a hassle... It's difficult to actually connect to someone when you're known for being a 'heartbreaker'. It's hard to feel confident in yourself in that way, when people assume you have mountains of experience you don't actually have. He isn't typically an insecure man at all, but... How does he express interest without it seeming fake when his natural honesty feels fake to others? He has always been 'good enough' at everything - and yet at 35 his experience in this one area is still in its adolescent infancy. How do you portray sincerity when you're always sincere? He's semi-sworn off the whole idea. It's not something he seeks out. Sexuality wasn't something he missed much in Azkaban. He missed genuine connection more - he values friendship above all else. A dementor at his door at all times - he didn't have strength to dream of anything as grand as touch... he was too busy dreaming of basic comfort. (The desire for intimacy/romance with someone is perhaps the only thing he would mask and hide. He has more important things to do, after all... no need to complicate things with heartbreak. But he isn't good at masking things. It eats at his soul.) If he were to engage with someone they would already be close, already special, already understand him. I'm not sure if he even CAN feel attraction to someone he isn't already loyal friends with. What does this mean for intimacy with him...?

He agonizes over 'doing it right' when he confesses desire. He isn't usually like that, he has never worried about studying for tests or impressing people - but he NEEDS to get his point across when it comes to this. He doesn't shy away from extravagant displays of love- he thinks they are fun. 100 bouquets on Valentines day? Hilarious to give OR to receive. But a confession? That's not fun. It's serious. He doesn't know any other way to emphasize his earnestness, to PROVE he is sincere, other than to go BIG. He will back out last minute if 'the vibe isn't right'. (It's not lost on him that extreme actions might have the opposite effect, and it's probably best to just take them aside and speak heart-to-heart... but it is hard to trust that will be enough when he is always speaking to people heart-to-heart.)

He is touch-starved. Once he is allowed to touch someone he is clingy. His hands are ALWAYS somewhere - preferably on skin. Holding hands, resting atop your shoulder, on the small of your back, wrapped around your waist, holding your hip with his fingers gently feeling inside your shirt or in the top of your pants... It doesn't matter how many seats are free on the sofa, he is leaning against you, putting his arm around your shoulders or seating you on his lap, or sitting on YOUR lap. He looks like he is being overly protective, and maybe he is a little - but he values touch. Even as a dog. He will lay down and snooze while his tail wags softly against your leg - or flop his head on your thigh and beg for pats...

...That leads to intimacy just being a part of daily life. He doesn't differentiate much between cuddling on the couch and having sex on the couch. To him, sex is less of its own special activity and more of an extension to other activities. That takes the pressure off of him to perform, too. He knows he is inexperienced - and there's no expectations if its just a cuddle that happens to include his dick or ass. He is a switch.

But he DOES perform. He does everything he can to make sure you are satisfied even if it means his own satisfaction is neglected. If he finishes too fast because he struggles to hold on: He will keep going until he is physically unable, then switch to his hands or mouth to try and finish the job. If he struggles to finish because he is too used to his own hand or its just something he struggles with in general, depression and PTSD is a bitch: He doesn't even care. He will stop when his partner has had enough. He is emotionally satisfied by their satisfaction. Blue balls don't bother him anymore, not after everything he has gone through.

...Though he will never turn down being pleased, if its offered. It's just not a priority. But there is something special about having a mouth on his cock. Something about being able to look into someones eyes while they warm him and show him affection. (You'd think a 69 would be perfect, and he does like it - but if he is giving pleasure he wants to be able to focus on it fully. He prefers the focus simple oral allows. Also he is tall, and unless his partner is also tall this can lead to problems.)

He is so good with his hands. He becomes good at everything, because he is dedicated to learning - a good kisser, good at oral, good at fucking - good at being fucked... Every encounter is a chance for him to practice. But his hands... he doesn't just touch, he feels. Holding hands is an intimate experience because he enjoys it so immensely. He savors every texture, every bump and blemish a precious treasure. Just feeling along your body is enough to make his breath shudder. No matter what else he is doing, sexual or not, his hands are feeling and stroking and gripping and enjoying. He is very familiar with them, having spent 12 years staring at them. After only being able to perform magic with his fingers rather than a wand. After only having himself to hold and pretend someone was here to comfort him.

He gets off to enthusiastic consent. He might push the envelope sometimes 'come on, Darling... you can take a bit more for me...' but the moment he feels like his partner is uncomfortable he doesn't get a dominating power kick - he gets concerned. It would take him a long time to warm up to anything that includes discomfort, even intentional discomfort.

He cant stand wishy-washy shyness. Someone being meek, who needs him to do everything, unsure about things... (He couldn't stand Remus. Even if he understands why Remus acts this way - it squicks him out.) ...He doesn't want to feel like he is taking. He wants to give.

The biggest betrayal in his mind is to be lied to. He cannot understand why so many others aren't as open and honest as he is. "Why didn't you tell me you didn't like that? Why did you pretend you did?! 'So I wouldn't feel bad'?? well I feel WORSE now!!!' Putting on a fake smile is the biggest insult he can imagine. He is being honest every single day of his life - and his partner is hiding their thoughts and feelings from him?! He is very patient and accepting. It doesn't matter the kink, fetish, desire, exploration, secret or issue - if his partner is open with him about it he is happy to try. He is happy to talk it out.

He is Poly. It's rare for him to like someone, and he is too loyal to ever cheat - but he is open enough with his feelings that if he DOES happen to like someone else he will say so. Having two or more people to cuddle with? At the same time OR separately? He literally can't think of anything better. That goes the other way, too - if his partner likes someone else he is the first to jump in and suggest they go for it. Champion Wingman. Even if he isn't a part of that second relationship. As long as he is loved and understood - he wants his partner to be happy. ...This doesn't help his image of being a flirtatious playboy. But anyone who thinks that doesn't matter as much to him as his partners, or his partners' partners.

He hates being bored. Being bored brings up memories. Being cold brings up memories. Being alone brings up memories. It can be difficult, locked in a big empty cold lonely house where every wall seems to hate him... He'd rather have sex than be bored. It's better than booze - though drunk sex sounds like an adventure! Since sex is an extension of other activities for him - he inserts it everywhere he can when things get quiet. It's entertaining AND fuels his desire for touch. He loves a good quickie. Leaving a meeting to use the bathroom...? He's right behind you to push you up against a wall, just because it seemed like a fun idea to sneak around.

Is this accurate...? It's how I see him, at least. Sirius Black genius' are welcome to confirm/correct/deny/expand.

[allycat75]

Hey Boston Dumb Fuck! Still don't hate you, but thought I would remind you in a bit more detail why many of us are (justifiably) upset with your continued shitty behavior.

Does it feel good to be coddled and worshiped again for putting on a few pounds of muscle?

And based on the vetting your crack (head) team did with the little wifey, I am sure they researched those trainers and nutritionists thoroughly and didn't just use their brother-in-law or someone who had some compromising information about one of those folks suckling at your recently buffed up teat.

Never forget, however, you have consistenly lied, manipulated and contorted yourself into whatever ridiculous shape your handlers required you to, character and morals be damned. There is no gym or supplement you can take that will replace your soul. That will take much more work, and for much longer, with no one thirsting over you. Just you examining and cleaning out the disgusting goo on the inside.

For example, you tacitly approved of antisemitism, that will not be erased by an eventual breakup from the precious little wifey, quite a come down from standing up to David Duke just a few years ago. And at a time when the slightest provocation could lead to a powder keg explosion.

You furthered the Karmic deficit by, instead if shuttering your pointless and corruptible political site, ASP, you leaned in, with the full might of a shameless hypocrite, accepting accolades in DC, the only place with less integrity than Hollywood, even though you arrogantly declared a few years ago you moved back to Mass. to get away from that vibe, and look where that got you- the biggest phony Chris in the town. Hey, remember at that DC Q&A, they asked you and Mark about how you monitor for truth in the content you post, and you stuttered through an answer about how it is "tricky' but it is critcal (or some nonsense like that). Well, that is obvious, considering the transparency provided about your highly qualified staff, forget about the priority you give it in your personal life. I have to ask- did it hurt, when your soul decided to peace out on you in that moment? Has telling lies been easier since it did? I keep waiting for your nose to grow or your pants to catch on fire, you completley untrustworthy son of a bitch.

Not at all sure what is real and what is artifice anymore. If you were a baked good, I couldn't sell you at Whole Foods, because there is nothing organic about you.

But you have a puppy face and we have "known" you for 20 years so people like me, we look like the cruel assholes if we are actually angry and hurt, questioning the veracity of an innocent fan interaction discovered and posted (passive voice used for sarcasm). Once again, making your fans who pay attention look stupid and crazy. I have two eyes and a brain and I don't appreciate the continued gaslighting, especially by a cadre of fools. And I do not suffer fools.

So, if you aren't going to work toward authentic redemption and amends, and keep fucking around, you are going to find out. Just like all the other privleged, rich white boys, I will call you out on your bullshit. You haven't earned a free pass with me. You do know what "earned" means, right? Charm isn't enough. In fact it pisses me off when you rely on that lazy tactic.

But as I often say, prove me wrong, your prick! Truly, nothing would make me happier.

[ineffable-kelpie]

Emergency Hug

Rating: G

Wordcount: 1,374

Prompt: A reunion hug

Characters: Crowley, Aziraphale

A sort-of sequel to Privacy, but also works as a standalone.

-

Aziraphale was by the duck pond when Crowley stepped out of the Bentley. Of course he was. Crowley had arrived five minutes late, just to prove he didn’t care about wasting the Supreme Archangel’s time. And maybe, a bit, out of spite for the way Aziraphale had only broken his four-year silence to ask for Crowley’s help, and the emphatic silence in his letter on the subject of any previous friendship between them. Crowley wouldn’t have shown up at all, except for the fact that he had a stake in Earth’s survival, too.

Crowley stepped up beside Aziraphale. Aziraphale turned just enough to see Crowley out of the corner of his eye before his eyes flitted back to the duck pond. “Oh, hello,” he said, his tone unbearably polite. “I trust you’ve been well.”

He trusted Crowley had been well. His best friend had abandoned him and fucked off for four years, of course Crowley hadn’t been well. That should be obvious from the shadows under his eyes. Or it would be, if Aziraphale would actually look at him. “Just as well as yourself, I’m sure,” Crowley said sarcastically, and added, “Supreme Archangel,” in a mocking tone.

“That’s lovely,” said Aziraphale, as if he hadn’t been listening. “As I said in my letter, I would appreciate your assistance with…”

Crowley grimaced as Aziraphale repeated the letter that Crowley had already read. It was like someone had replaced Aziraphale with an automaton. Crowley had hoped for at least some hint of an emotional reaction when Aziraphale saw him again. But he still wouldn’t look at Crowley, so Crowley supposed he still didn’t know what Aziraphale’s reaction to seeing him would be.

“…So that’s the current plan, at a high level,” Aziraphale was saying. “I’m sure you can see the most obvious points of failure: . Unfortunately, so did Michael, so she added a few failsafes…”

Crowley wanted to interrupt, to say, look at me, Aziraphale, look me in the eyes right now like you did before you stepped on that elevator and left me here alone. Except he didn’t think Aziraphale would do it. Not when he was standing there, rigid as a lightpost, staring fixedly at the slate-gray pond, his hands locked in a white-knuckled grip in front of him, his face placid as if he’d had his emotions surgically removed—

Oh. Well, of course he wasn’t acting like himself. He’d spent the last four years in Heaven.

Now that Crowley recognized the signs, he wondered how he could have interpreted them as coldness. He knew what meetings in Heaven did to Aziraphale. He’d seen the state the angel was in afterwards. And he knew that, the more dire the situation, the more tightly Aziraphale locked his feelings up.

He wasn’t looking at Crowley because he couldn’t look at Crowley. Because he knew that would make him fall apart.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley interrupted.

Aziraphale paused in his monologue about schedules and failure points and distractions. “Ye-es?” he asked, stumbling over the word. It probably hadn’t occurred in any of his rehearsals.

Crowley didn’t know how to ask. “Are you okay” was a pointless question, when Aziraphale so clearly wasn’t. He wouldn’t admit to anything being amiss, anyway. But Crowley couldn’t just stand there and watch Aziraphale suffer, not when he knew what always helped Aziraphale after a visit to Heaven. What could ground him. He reached up and touched Aziraphale’s arm with two fingers.

Aziraphale stopped breathing. His eyes widened, and then he squeezed them shut. He didn’t speak.

“Oh, Aziraphale.” Crowley placed his hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder, then carefully slid it around his back to pull him in for—

“Stop,” Aziraphale gasped, jumping away from him. He tripped backwards a few steps, both hands held in front of him like a ward. “Stopstopstop, I can’t—” His voice cracked. He shut his eyes again and drew several deep breaths in what was clearly a desperate attempt to compose himself. “That is—This—This is a purely professional meeting,” he said, in a far less convincing attempt at his dry, polite tone from earlier. “Perhaps I wasn’t clear.”

Crowley let his arms fall. He didn’t move from where he was standing, or reach for Aziraphale. Did Aziraphale think he couldn’t show weakness in front of Crowley? That Crowley would think less of him? Crowley had a lot of reasons to think less of Aziraphale after he left, but not his need for touch. Never that. “So, you’re not dying for someone to touch you?” Crowley meant it to sound offhand, teasing. It didn’t.

“I…” Aziraphale wrapped his arms around himself and pressed trembling lips together. He stared at the ground, still unable to look at Crowley. “I-I…” Squeezing his eyes shut, he swallowed hard, and nodded.

Crowley snapped his fingers to put up a veil of privacy around them, took two steps forward, and wrapped his arms around Aziraphale. Aziraphale drew a sharp breath, but didn’t pull away again. He was shaking worse than Crowley had ever seen him. He leaned into Crowley, like Crowley was the only thing keeping him upright. “Crowley,” he said in a broken voice. He hadn’t actually said Crowley’s name until now.

Crowley held Aziraphale tight. He hadn’t thought they’d ever touch again like this. It probably didn’t mean anything, like a kiss given while administering CPR didn’t mean anything, but it still made his heart ache in his chest to hold Aziraphale close to him. “This doesn’t mean we’re good,” he said, in case Aziraphale interpreted this as some kind of forgiveness or acceptance, when he hadn’t even apologized yet. “I’m still pissed at you.”

Aziraphale nodded into his shirt and clung to him, so tightly that, had Crowley been human, he would have suffocated. How could Aziraphale have gone back, when he knew the effect Heaven had on him? How could he subject himself to that, so far away from anyone who cared about him? Why hadn’t he come to Crowley sooner?

“You’re an idiot,” was how these thoughts chose to articulate themselves.

Aziraphale shuddered under a wave of what sounded like sobs. “I rather am,” he choked.

It must be even worse than Crowley thought, if Aziraphale agreed with that. Crowley squeezed him tighter, in case that would help, and rubbed one hand up and down Aziraphale’s back. Everything he did only seemed to make Aziraphale cry harder. Although maybe that was a good thing, if all that emotion had been pent-up for as long as he’d been in Heaven.

“I’ve—m-missed you,” Aziraphale said, in between huge heaving sobs. “So terribly.”

“Nghh.” Crowley couldn’t think of anything to say. Obviously, he’d missed Aziraphale too. Obviously. He was dangerously close to tears himself. But this wasn’t the time or the place for this conversation, for the same reason that they shouldn’t have serious conversations while drunk. Maybe once Aziraphale was a little more stable, and neither of their heads was clouded by the hug, they could talk. “Let’s, er, not talk about this now. Later.”

Aziraphale nodded, sniffling. Neither of them spoke for a long, long time. Aziraphale didn’t seem to be getting any better, which was worrying. He was shaking even more now than at the start of the hug. How long would Crowley have to hold him, for it to be long enough? Months? Years? How long could they risk before someone came looking for their Supreme Archangel?

“We don’t have time,” Aziraphale said suddenly, his body tensing in Crowley’s arms. “Our meeting—we were supposed to plan—”

“We’ll reschedule,” said Crowley. “There was an emergency, it couldn’t be helped.”

“I-I only blocked my calendar to the end of the hour.”

Crowley held up his arm to look at his watch over Aziraphale’s shoulder. He was more relieved than he cared to admit to see that they still had time. It wouldn’t be nearly enough to bring Aziraphale back to his old self, but it was at least something to get Aziraphale from now until their next meeting. “We’ve got till the end of the hour, then,” he said, settling his hand on the back of Aziraphale’s neck. Aziraphale’s grip tightened. Softly, so softly that Crowley almost didn’t hear it, he whispered, “Thank you.”

[ina-nis]

“I’m sick (I need some space), and I’ll be away for a while (I won’t come back).”

Are the magical, avoidant-style free-pass words into a guiltless “ghosting”.

It’s saying “farewell” without ever needing to say it directly.

It’s selfish and pathological, but it does work: people will respect your need for space. No one will ever assume it’s out of avoidance because you never really “showed any signs of avoidance, wasn’t that all because you’re shy/introverted/troubled with your mental health (depression et al)?”

You’re free, finally!

And you know just what to say to remove yourself from the responsibility, not hurt or burden others and cease the suffering in its tracks.

People enable you without even noticing.

You’re familiar with the feeling: who really cares?

You’re not making a scene, you’re not fighting and arguing, you’re not causing any issues, it’s almost as if you were never there in the first place!

Oh, but you’re not doing this as a call-for-help, or for attention, or to get people to acknowledge you - when/if they do that, you’ll deflect as you always do - “everything is as fine as it can be, I still need more time” - or you won’t reply altogether.

Whether people give you attention or not, doesn’t change anything. The predicament is still the same.

No one has got close enough, and when/if they do, it’s with many strings attached, always on their terms, never yours, so you naturally pull away.

To get what you want, you need to let people get close. Or let yourself approach people. When you let people get close, you get hurt. When you let yourself approach people, you get hurt too. You stop letting people close and stop approaching them, and you stop hurting.

Nothing happens, nothing changes.

Still, you want to get better, whatever “better” may look like. And you know this is not something you can do on your own, but it’s hard when everyone is just enabling your avoidance further, when everyone is just (unconsciously) proving your brain right.

It’s not your fault, it’s not theirs, it’s something else entirely.

This is what makes this kind of disorder so... cruel to deal with, this is why it’s so hard to treat. Many people with personality disorders don’t realize they have it, and it’s no wonder, just look at you: well aware of the issues and yet, powerless to stop the cycle. Powerless to stop something that causes no issues whatsoever, something so passive and nonviolent, something that is a symptom and a disease and a coping mechanism all together and the same.

You’re fighting a war against “nothing” all on your own. A battle that requires support, which you don’t have, because that’s the basis of the issue. A battle that requires you relying on other ways to counter the avoidance, and these things prove to not work for long enough every time, because you’re not addressing the root of the problem.

The root of the problem, you assume, it’s loneliness. There’s a few ways to address loneliness if you’re not suffering from a disorder that ties your very existence into loneliness itself - that’s what makes it much harder and different to deal with, and it’s a good explanation as to why efforts to connect and tackle loneliness are futile.

You still want to get better, despite it all.

You have decided that you will not accept loneliness as an essential part of yourself, therefore kicking it into overdrive - this is what happens when you go against something in your mind: it just holds your more tightly, it just suffocates you faster.

But it’s not only the loneliness that grew.

Your longing is just as strong, maybe even more so.

Your longing, your desire is not lonely. It’s full of hope, full of love, it’s telling you to keep on fighting even when this all feels pointless and hopeless. You feel lonely and yet, your love isn’t, nor is the yearning you feel, that makes your heart so warm and give you butterflies in your stomach.

Your longing accepts and validates the loneliness, it sees it and acknowledges it. That’s why the loneliness is there - “I have a fundamental need that’s not being met, you’re not listening to me” - but yes, you are listening, you just don’t know how to help it.

You don’t know what to do. You don’t know how to have this need met. You don’t know how to pacify the loneliness when it feels so excruciatingly painful and saps every ounce of energy and drive you might still have in you.

You know you can’t do that alone, but you’re still left with the same questions: how can you prove your brain wrong? How can you pacify and validate the loneliness yourself, without letting it completely consume and overcome you? How can you heal and be able to start fighting eye-to-eye when your mind is working against you? How can you find and keep support in your life if you drive everything and everyone away to protect them and yourself?

Getting better is the goal, and you have all the tools to make that happen, you just need to gather the strength to keep on going a little longer.

You know death will not solve anything: it’s just more avoidance.

You need to stop avoiding so you can get better, but for you to stop avoiding, you’ll need to be able to stop burning bridges. You need to be able to connect with people for real. You need to be able to feel something other than hurt, trauma, resentment, etc.

Your longing is not enough, nor is your love, there’s must be something else you’re missing, something you can’t see yet...

[lyntherighteousleftist]

Hi Edmalyn,

This is me, your alter ego. While I watch you, it’s clear that you’re not okay. I know you’re pretending to be fine, but deep down, you’re really not.

Sigh, Ed, if only we could rewind time, you would have a much better chance of passing the Civil Service exam. But we can’t. It’s already happened. It’s hard to accept because I know you’re aware of how much effort you put into studying. There’s nothing wrong with reviewing, because at least you learned something, right?

Talking about your disappointments, I know you really wanted to pass, especially since you already have a backer. That would’ve made things much easier, wouldn’t it?

I don’t know what went wrong or why this happened. Of all people, why did it have to be you who had to suffer? I mean, haven’t you gone through enough hardship already? What more do you need to prove while enduring this pain? Isn’t it enough? Really?

Even now, I’m still puzzled and can never understand why someone who studies so diligently would still fail. It makes me wonder, what could have possibly gone wrong for you to fall short again?

Ed, I know you feel pressured because your friends have achieved so much, while you feel like you’re still stuck. But please, don’t give up. There are still people who support you. I’m your alter ego, and there’s Mama, Lola, and your friend Cloney. If only you knew, there are still people who believe in you.

Ed, I know there are moments when everything seems pointless—when you question if all the effort and sacrifices are even worth it. The doubt creeps in, making you wonder if you’ll ever be enough or if you’ll ever get past this phase of constant struggle. But, remember, just because you’re facing setbacks doesn’t mean you’re failing at life. It means you’re growing through life. Growth isn’t always easy or pleasant; sometimes, it comes with tears, heartache, and uncertainty.

You might feel like giving up would be easier, that walking away from this battle would bring some relief. But deep down, you know that the things you care about are worth the fight. You have a vision for your future, and even if it feels blurry right now, it’s still there, waiting for you to step into it.

Every time you pick yourself up after a disappointment, you’re proving your strength. It’s in those moments of pain and discouragement that you’re truly building the resilience you need for life’s greatest challenges. Those moments are shaping you into the person who can overcome not just this, but anything life throws your way.

The truth is, success doesn’t always come to those who have the perfect circumstances or the easiest path. It often comes to those who refuse to surrender, who get back up despite how many times they’ve been knocked down. And that’s exactly who you are, Ed—someone who doesn’t back down from a fight. You’ve shown time and time again that you’re willing to go the extra mile, and one day, the world will acknowledge that perseverance.

It’s easy to feel overwhelmed when you think about all the dreams you have yet to reach. But don’t let the enormity of your goals scare you. Instead, focus on the small victories—the times you chose to study instead of giving up, the days you pushed yourself to keep going when everything felt like a heavy weight. Those little wins are the building blocks to something greater, even if it’s hard to see that now.

You’ve made it through tough days before, Ed. You’ve endured moments where you felt you had nothing left to give, yet you found a way to keep moving forward. That resilience is your superpower, and it will guide you through this. Let the challenges inspire you to be even more determined, even more committed to your journey. You’re not starting from zero; you’re carrying with you every lesson, every effort, and every step you’ve already taken.

Don’t be afraid to lean on the people who care about you—your mom, Lola, Cloney, and even me, your alter ego. We’re here to remind you that you’re not alone in this fight. We see your efforts and the courage it takes to keep going, even when it feels like the world is against you. There is strength in letting others support you; you don’t have to carry the burden all by yourself.

Ed, the world may not always play fair, and life may present you with hurdles that seem insurmountable. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t worthy of the success you’re striving for. It doesn’t mean that the dreams you have in your heart aren’t meant for you. Sometimes, the journey is just longer and harder than expected, but that doesn’t mean you won’t arrive at your destination.

Promise yourself that you will continue, even if it’s one small step at a time. Promise yourself that you won’t let this setback be the end of your story. The world is filled with stories of people who stumbled many times before they reached greatness. Yours will be no different. In the end, what will matter most is that you never gave up on yourself.

Edmalyn, you are stronger than the doubts, more resilient than the disappointments, and braver than you realize. Keep believing that better days are coming because they are. And when they do, you’ll look back and understand that this was all part of the journey that shaped you into someone who can conquer anything.

Take heart, Ed. Your time will come. And when it does, it will be even sweeter because of everything you’ve been through. You will rise from this, stronger and more determined than ever before.

You are not defined by this setback. You are defined by how you rise from it.

I’m here, Ed. Even if it feels like no one else understands, I do. I’m the voice that’s been with you through every trial, the one that encourages you to keep fighting, even when it seems pointless. I believe in you because I know the kind of person you are—someone who doesn’t quit, someone who keeps showing up despite the setbacks.

Keep going, Ed. Your story isn’t over. The failures don’t mean you’re not good enough; they’re just a part of your journey. And as long as you’re still willing to fight, there’s hope. The best is yet to come, and I’ll be here with you, every step of the way.

You are not alone. You have the strength to get through this, and one day, you’ll look back and see how every struggle prepared you for something greater. You are loved, Ed, and your dreams are still worth fighting for. Keep believing in yourself, because I always will.

You’re going to make it. I believe in you.

[theloveexpert]

Why Saying Sorry Doesn’t Fix Everything

Saying sorry has become a habit of many people when they do something bad or when they hurt someone unintentionally. Sorry is a commonly used word and we use it in every day basis. Many people apologize every day that’s why this word has become so cliché that some people won’t even believe you if you say this word. They think that you are not sincere and they would need some kind of evidence that you really are sorry for your actions. It is so hard to trust some people now because they lie straight to our face without feeling guilty about it. Also, in relationships, saying sorry could fix superficial things in your relationships but sometimes, it won’t fix deep rooted problems. I will be sharing you some of the reasons why saying sorry doesn’t fix

Sometimes, you need to prove that you are sorry by your actions.

Saying sorry won’t be enough because it is so easy and you might just be saying that so that you won’t feel guilty of anything. Sometimes, you need to prove to your partner that you have changed and you should promise to them that you won’t do it again to avoid any problems in the future. There is a saying that says actions speak louder than words. So with this in mind, you should not only say sorry but you should also act like you are feeling sorry for your mistakes.

Saying sorry won’t help if your problems are too deep.

If your problems are too serious and too deep, saying sorry won’t be enough to fix it. Saying sorry is like a first aid only which means that it is not the real solution if your problems have a bigger cause. As I mentioned before, you should always act like you are feeling sorry, let your partner see that you are changing to become better and promise to yourself and your partner that you won’t do it again. If you only made a slight mistake, you can always say sorry but if it is too big of a problem, then do something else aside from saying sorry.  Discover a new world of possibilities with https://local-hookup.org/, where we offer a fun and exciting way to meet new people and explore romantic connections. Whether you're new to online dating or a seasoned pro, our website has everything you need to make meaningful connections.

Some problems need to be discussed properly.

There are just some problems where apologizing is unnecessary because what the problem needs is a serious discussion and not apologizing. There are times where some people wouldn’t bother saying sorry because they know it won’t make any difference. Rather than wasting each other’s times with pointless apologizing, it is better to get down to business and talk about what went wrong and what should both of you do to make things better again.

Saying sorry won’t fix everything if you have hurt someone too much.

If you have been hurting someone for many times, the pain would accumulate into a big ball of pain and saying sorry won’t make things better for your partner. They have been through a lot and you saying sorry will just add to their suffering. This is why I think that saying sorry won’t fix everything because there are some wounds that are just so hard to heal and they leave a big scar behind.

[mrtsar]

Paul-Alex Chaperone: The Post-Post-Post Modern Intellectual

Paul-Alex Chaperone: The Post-Post-Post-Modern Intellectual

            I write to you now, my disciples, in total dismay. This day, I’ve suffered a true injustice from the ignorance of neo-liberal institutionalists, or whatever he was. Yes, your humble writer, who serenades this torrential website among the cacophony of idiotic portrayals of moderation, was slighted and made a fool out of on the street, among the dreadful students of empathy.

            To those fans of mine who are yet unaware of my ideology, you need not look further for enlightenment than here, as I would like to amend it with this cruel story. Before this day of septic self-reflection, I need to clarify my thought process before the amendment. Unlike the folly of Modernist thought, which seeks to distinguish between absolute right and wrong, the indecisive pageantry of ignorance of the Post-Modernists, who seek to muddy the water with relativist drivel, and the Post-Post-Modernists that have only made up their minds to some degree, I have ascended past the need for morals. This is the very reason I began writing to you, after all: to make more sane intellectuals in my new Post-Post-Post-Modern crusade.

            With simplicity, it is the rejection of any wants or desires beyond the scope of your moral self. It is cruel to yourself and others to abridge your instincts and wants with any kind of restraint or consideration. While many of you droogs try and attribute lesser writers and faux-philosophers to my theory, I would prefer to for you not to associate me with lesser writers like Nietchze, Rand or especially morons like Descartes. Oh Descartes . . . I truly loathe that coward of indecision, as well as any existentialist drivel that passes itself off as truth. If they really wanted to answer every question to life, why stick with a philosophy that prides itself on knowing little to nothing at all. I am digressing, however. If you would care to know more of my distaste for philosophy that caters not to my rational palette, I encourage you to read my dissertations on the subject, was well as donating to my cause in the link below this story.

            Continuing on to the story for us who actually care about what is right in the world. Actually, the amount of unintelligible nonsense from cultural relativists on a regular basis on my various social media is near deafening. Can they not see that, by actively seeing their acts of critique and whining as moral, as well as the fact that they want to see me imprisoned for crimes against the neoliberal establishment, the masses of blind institutionalists only prove my point. My actions cannot ever be immoral, because I am authentic. And if I am authentic, then I am doing as I wish to, truly. Therefore, I am the most moral and intelligent of all you pointless embryos.

            If you, my enlightened public would like to support my cause against the soulless on my social media, it is imperative to follow my accounts and refute them as you see fit, to preserve your moral character.

            I had stepped onto the grounds of my university after class to take my regular Friday notes regarding the inferior minds that attend this echo-chamber, collated a stunning satire about the idiocy of my professors who think that active research counters my observation, and was busy disliking the posts of armchair charlatans. It was here, at the center of the lawn, I encountered, much like the Buddha, two sights which continue to intellectually stimulate me.

            First of all, two men, who appeared to be quite close, walked together, talking loudly about nothing. Now, what was actually peculiar about them, were the pins on both of their sweaters. On my right side, he possessed the words “Socialism Sucks,” emboldened like a scarlet letter. On the left, a “Feel the Bern 2016” mark stained his front.

            Now, I have long echoed your sentiments regarding these two compromising ideologies, with regard to the half-assed-ness of mild socialism and pseudo-illiberalism possessed by these two. However, I did not take umbrage with these pins, as I have detailed in other treatises of mine which you may now purchase digitally on any electronic book site. To summarize, I have no problem inherently with an ideology as long as they hold an unabridged hatred of others and are fearful and unwilling to compromise. As our society is filled to the brim with haphazard attempts to reconcile differences, I hold it moral to just push what one knows to be true without regard for the safety of others. To reiterate, you can purchase any of my books at any distribution service or on this website. 

            The main problem with these two inauthentic swine is how they so casually talk to one another despite their incompatibility. With moral impulsion, I said “Stay true to yourselves and kick him out of your life and prepare your trenches!” They may have pretended not to hear me, didn’t look at me, nor acknowledge my existence in any way, but I am sure their relationship ended that night due to my words of guidance.

            The second sight is one which you should brace yourselves before delving into. A normal-looking colleague (I grow sick of calling these inaudibly dumb armchairs my “colleagues”) walked passed with the charisma of a dogfish. Now, to this day, I know not what compelled me to confront this individual. Perhaps it was due to his inauthentic walk? His focus on avoiding other people while walking instead of trying to move them out of his way? It remains unclear. Whatever the reason, I started with “You, walking with inauthenticity and the charisma of a dogfish, may I enlighten you for a moment?”

            As this intolerable dolt chose to exchange with me for longer than anyone else so far, I will detail this lecture verbatim, as to demonstrate to you, my disciples, how to interact with unenlightened ones.

            “Sorry?” he said. Already he showed signs of his weak rhetorical presence.

            “Now that I have your attention, I would like to correct you on your moronic way of carrying yourself. Firstly—”

            “Are you serious? Are you a preacher, like, or something?”

            “Oh please! Do I look like someone trying to preach something invisible? No, I need to inform you of my authentic ideology!”

            “Can you not? I have class in a bit.” Already, he tried to dodge and hide his annoyance through petty academic obligation. However, I had to march on in my triumph.

            “Do you not know that it is moral to do as you please? Now, not in a hippy Antifa manner of ‘live and let live,’ nor the capitalist focus of philosophers such as Ayn Rand or Friedrich Nietzsche, but I’m speaking from the perspective of myself, our greatest judge in –

            “Do you give this spiel to everyone, or just people you don’t like?”

            “Oh no, my humble readers care to listen in on my internal chats on a daily basis, all 400 of them.”

            “Oh, wonderful.” Yes, he honestly thought he could deceive me with sarcasm, the way for post-materialist cowards to try and dodge conversation that may make them angry. But now, unlike the other instances of this I have detailed extensively on www.postpostpostmodernmenofthefuture.com, I could not allow such ignorance to leave untaught. Besides, his annoyance gave him promise; perhaps he would listen to me after some coaxing.

I continued: “Have you ever wondered why armchairs like you remain that way. . .”

            “Oh, that’s not a rhetorical question. Um, no.”

            “Have you ever wondered why social contract theory came about?”

            “Are you not going to answer the first question?”

            “Have you ever wondered—”

            “The answer’s going to be a solid ‘no’ from me, chief.”

I know what you are thinking dear reader. And the answer is “yes”: he did just attempt to flatter me despite his obvious disliking of me. Thankfully, I hit back with some breathtaking rhetorical wit that the Romans would marvel at. “Did you just attempt to flatter me despite your obvious disliking of me?”

“I . . . think I did. And while yes, I think you’re a pretentious pile of garbage with more chips on his shoulder than a rich kid playing poker with his father’s money, that doesn’t necessarily mean I should actively swear at you in public, nor would I want to.”

“Of course you want to! My ideology of Post-Post-Post-Modernism allows you to act upon your desires as you wish. So if, for example, if you wanted an A on your next exam, it would be moral for you to cheat, as you getting what you what is inherently right and just.”

“. . . Have you read Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoyevsky?”

Of course he goes back to the comfort and safety of people who do the thinking for him. “Why would I engage with foreign fiction if I wish not to, and it is moral to do as I please?”

His mouth collapses agape with an expression not dissimilar to the floodgates of his mind, allowing my streams of enlightenment to flow through. In fact, he is unable to form words for the next several moments.

“Okay,” he said, “I assume you read Nietzsche, correct? After all, you just mentioned it.”

“Why should I engage with philosophy that is not my own and I do not agree with? His work is an echo-chamber of German nationalism anyway.”

“Cool. Do you know what an ‘ubermensch’ is?” (I apologize if I could barely jot-down this poor excuse for common English. Does he not even engage in the regular parlance?)

“I’m sorry, I only speak English. I do not want to discuss in any language that fails to convey my meaning, like this one.”

“Turning Nietzsche’s idea of the ‘ubermensch’ on its head, Dostoyevsky uses the character of Rodion Raskolnikov to try and explain how this idea of how certain people should act above any kind of convention only leads to criminal and immoral attitude, hence the first word of the title, ‘Crime.” My lord, I never believed he would stop lecturing me about his nonsense.

I straightened myself: “Oh look at you, using your fake degree to lecture people on the street.” I’ve no reason as to why, but this comment stirred him, as if he was looking into my clear eyes at his reflection, realizing that he is truly the one he’s complaining of. How can these people who love to flaunt their fields of study continue to persist in their mire of hypocrisy? “What ideology do you subscribe to, perchance?”

“I don’t know right now. What do you hate above everything else?” Despite what I have described him as, I am thankful he has adapted my cult of ideological clarity over the course of our discourse.

I responded with full enthusiasm: “Any ideology which advocates compromise or the coming together of likeminded individuals away from the nature of authenticity is one that I advocate vehemently against in my writings. If you would like to engage with my disciples, you can go to www.postpostpostmodernmenofthefuture.com and donate to my cause.”

I do not believe he responded kindly to my authentic commercialized speech. “Firstly, thank you for responding to my question in around 40 syllables too many. Secondly, thank you for not actually answering my damn question! And finally, thank you for trying to sell me an ethos built on the authenticity of man, while selling your soul to the wills of your alt-right fanbase.”

“I am not alt-right. I am just someone who likes to take a neutral stance against all other ideologies.”

“Now here I thought you didn’t like any kind of compromise.”

Now at this point I understand clearly, and I am aware many of you share this sentiment. You see, hypocrisy cannot exist in a Post-Post-Post-Modern framework. This is due to the fact that it is built on short-term wants and the execution of them. Therefore, if what you want is different from what you wanted before, even pertaining to what sources I use and what is fundamental to the ideology, you are still being authentic, as who you are in the present is inherently more important and real than your past and future. Therefore, as long as you constantly tell the truth as you see it in the now, you can never contradict yourself, even if you lied in retrospect.

“I don’t see how my ideology needs to be consistent to be correct,” I said.

“Oh yes sir, we’ve always been at war with Eurasia,” he said with a smug expression.

“You realize that Eurasia isn’t even a country, correct? You and other armchairs online seem to believe it is when I tell them this part of Post-Post-Post-Modernism.”

“. . . I’ve honestly never met someone as stupid as you.”

“You dastardly tosspot!”

“What are you, British? Because you know, I don’t approve of cultural appropriation.”

“Oh, you damned cultural relativist!”

“Going on, who are you trying to fool? Are you really trying to convince me of your cult?”

“My Post-Post-Post-Modern principles are more than the religion of a cult; it’s an ideology.”

“Yeah, okay. So, if I were to, say, punch you in the face and kick you in the ribs with no remorse, would it be moral, provided I wanted to do it?”

And so, he learned the tenants of our movement. “Finally, you’re actually seeing the truth. The answer is ‘yes.’ Follow your desires and—”

He could have beaten me enough to give out three black eyes if he wanted to (if I subscribe to tacky Eastern philosophy). However, as I sat there, as my new tenant kicked me, pulled out my teeth, forced my blood to kiss the ground, took a good and powerful spit on my corpse-like fetal position and walked away, I knew that I had won this rhetorical war. After getting up and covering my wounds, I gave a smile, albeit obfuscated underneath my panting and crying.

And so, I now write here, directing 401 of my noble sheep in the ways of my ideology. However, I mentioned earlier of my attempt to amend this ideology. While I did believe I won the battle of conversion at the time, as I patched myself into a functioning human being, I realized something that will stick with me for the rest of my days. I do not like pain. Therefore, it is not moral to feel pain.

Furthermore, as I cannot feel the physical pain of individuals, it is not necessarily immoral to deliver pain unto others. However, any kind of consequence for my actions is undesirable to me. Additionally, as others know that I feel pain from their abuse of me, they are immoral for attacking me. In other words, if I feel pain, it is due to the immorality of others, while my perceived transgressions are merely expressions of my will, as I am infallible in my own experience.

Once again, I have to sincerely thank and respect the individual who gave me these scars, as he allowed me to come upon my final ideology. This Post-Post-Post-Post-Modernist idea will center around me specifically, as I am the only one who can know that pain inflicted on me is immoral. I am aware that this will not exactly prove to be marketable; I will still support those of you who continue my previous crusade. However, for those who would like to remain behind me after this final revelation, please send your generous donations to the link above to pay for money to heal my pains. This does not exactly pertain to first-aid either. As alcohol, marijuana, and other substances alter my ability to feel pain, your contribution will go to those as well. Not to mention, the addictive properties of some of these drugs will fuel an addiction, which will only put my authenticity to the test, as I will have to resist the urges of restraint and indulge truthfully.

I hope my individual mission will inspire you to do similar and not inflict pain upon me, while living authentically. Truly, I am the modern intellectual.

[very-cool-office]

Putting restrictions on the parameters around when people can express themselves, and their joy is anti-human, anti-community and it's anti-self. To force somebody—including yourself—to "prove" themselves in order to the access the "privelage" of humanity, it results in thought-policing spirals. It's a fucked up thing to do to anybody.

Stopping yourself from fulfilling your needs and ripping yourself of identity because a nebulous "somebody" or "some people" won't like it, whom likely aren't even in the room and frankly shouldn't be allowed to take up more of the space than you with that behaviour—that's pointless suffering, and you don't deserve that.

They should be ashamed for joining in on that—that would be a healthy shame, something which is overdue for a return to our "society"—but know that they should be cared about too. Lashing out at them or antagonising them only serves to perpetuate them by making them feel even more alone than they already are.

So, if that's you; I'm sorry that you were made to feel so alone and inadequate that you felt the need to do this. I mean this with full sincerity, it breaks my heart. I wish for you a support system that doesn't demand you to preform and sees your heart for what it really is. We aren't strong enough to persevere through a lack of support. We lie to ourselves that we can in order to survive. That's a natural reaction that makes sense, not a failure on your part. It's a systemic one for isolating us so much. That doesn't cancel out hurting people, sure, but what lesson is learnt from suffering? We can only heal together and move on through connecting with humanity.

"Cringe culture" is awful for these reasons; it's anti-human ideology, or making people feel ashamed to be human. It pressures us to lock ourselves away for the fear of rejection. Something anyone participating often lacks the tools to handle, at this point, which is why they're participating to begin with.

The bystanding or allowing this continue to go unchecked we leave ourselves alone with our thoughts & paralyzed in to thinking it's more of us than it is until it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy of lashing out out of projection, jealousy, self-hate; of pain.

You don't have to let these chains control you anymore; this is why I being blunt. The first step to removing them is removing their power through support.

It's okay to sing.

It's okay to just make art.

Art can be anything, it can even be your words, it can even be your experience shared, it can be an idea.

It doesn't have rules.

It should have never rules.

Unnecessary rules are where creativity goes to die. It steals your autonomy, pointlessly, when you're just trying to live your life. You're supposed to be living your life right now. This is it, you're there right now.

You are inseparable from art.

You're a human being, and that's enough.

You're enough.

[ren-fang]

I view Kreia as a Sith exile in the same way that Meetra is an exile of the Jedi. She's still Sith-she believes that it's more a kindness to train someone to be self-sufficient and able to pursue their own goals, build a foundation of strength for themselves, and have the power to be free without her own influence. She doesn't believe in all the things that Sith believe-Kreia believes in mercy, in preventing pointless loss of life, in giving people she thinks of as enemies a chance to prove that they're not what she thinks of them.

But even if she's not as blatantly evil as other Sith lords, she's still a grey Sith, not a grey Jedi. Any kindness of hers is roundabout and confusing. She'd show affection by stabbing you in the back-a person worth believing in is one worth betraying to her, as it's proof that you've become strong enough to survive it. Going all the way to the beginning of the Sith code and it's obvious what makes her Sith as opposed to Jedi; Peace is a lie/There is only passion against the Jedi version, There is no emotion/There is only peace. She believes life is suffering and you must prepare yourself and your loved ones for it.

The force is abhorrent to her because relying on the force is paradoxically not very Sith of the Sith. Passion leads to strength and strength leads to power and power will break your chains, but in reality use of the force leads to power, a power without strength that's like a drug, making it difficult to tell if your passions are still yours or if they're spurred into feeling them by the force. It's not your power-it's the force's, and it's using your body as a puppet to try and reach balance as the waves of light and dark oscillate in high and low tide. If it's power without strength or personal values then your victories are fake, they're the force's victories instead of your own; the force isn't going to set you free, it's going to make you a slave to it. If the force is alive and has a will that no Sith can usurp, its very existence contradicts every part of what it means to be Sith. You can never actually have someone who believes in what it means to be Sith at the top of the chain of leadership. So yeah she hates that. In a way, it's not unreasonable to think peace is a lie *because* of the force (even if we in a world without the force still live in similar suffering know this isn't true; she can't know that for certain).

So yeah, she believes in being Sith, but it's not possible to ever achieve victory as long as being Sith is a living self-destructive contradiction. She doesn't believe in the Jedi code and the Sith code is only a rejection of the Jedi code from former Jedi jaded by the way the Jedi have hurt them. She wants a third option and instead of mulling it over and remaining in stillness like a Jedi she picks a third option, even if it's not a good one: kill and dethrone the 'God' keeping them from thinking clearly and having a reasonable Human philosophy about how to live life.

Hey kotor 2 fans who are smarter than me I have a question. So kreia hates the force because it has a will of its own that seeks to constantly find and "balance" at the cost oflives and free will right? And it is assumed that it does this through a constant cycle of conflicts, such as the countless chosen one types that we meet through the stories of star wars from anakin to revan to even cade and maybe even nomi. But kreia throughout kotor 2 seems to fall in with the sith ideal of conflict is good and in these types of conflict seems to view killing as a necessary tool in the arsenal. So does kreia actually hate the conflict the force perpetuates and the killing involved or is she just against the idea of not having complete control over her own destiny?

[inomios]

Eight types of love II Levi Ackerman

Summary: “There are eight types of love, and even though his life has been full of pain since the very beginning, he could say he experienced them all.”

Genre: Angst and Fluff

Word count: + 5k

Author note: This is the first thing I’ve ever published and I’m really nervous, so I would really appreciate if you reblogged, liked and commented. Also, English is not my first language, so I’m sorry for any mistakes. Constructive criticism is really appreciated.

                                                           . . . . 

1. AGAPE or Selfless love

           His mother would tell him everyday that she loved him with everything she had, even though it was not a lot. He asked his mother what love was, what meant loving someone. She couldn’t explain it with exact words, she would tell him that love meant caring deeply for someone, even more than for yourself. She loved him and he loved her, that much was true. He asked if he could love more than one person, his mom told him that yes, you could love many people in your life and in different ways. Then, he proceeded to ask if she had ever loved anyone else besides him, she was quiet, like she was thinking the right answer and after a few minutes she said that she had or at least she thought she did, but she had never loved someone as much as she loved him. Love was a confusing thing for him and the more he asked, the more unclear it got.

          The only thing he was sure of was that the only thing she loved was her mother. However, curious as he was, he would ask her questions about it all the time.

         ‘Is love the best thing in the world?’ 

        ‘Yes, Levi, it is the only thing that makes life worth it.’

        ‘Is love always good?’ 

       ‘Not always, sometimes it makes you sad.’

       ‘I don’t wanna be sad. I won’t love anyone else but you.’ 

      ‘You can’t choose who you love, sweetie.’

      ‘Love sucks.’ 

     ‘You will get it when you grow up.’

     ‘I’m already a grown-up.’

     He tried to get it, but he couldn’t. He prided himself of being smart, his mom would always tell him that he was really clever and witty for his age. Then, how come he wasn’t able to understand love. It was just a four-letter word: L-O-V-E, it couldn’t have such a deep meaning. ‘Door’ had also four letters and it wasn’t hard to understand and ‘Scandalous’, pretty much the biggest word for him, had ten letters and he knew what it meant, he could even use it in a phrase.

      His mom, noticing that he was about to collapse trying to figure out what has love, tried to come up with the best possible definition, one that would please his five-year old son.

    ‘Love is a selfless thing. Love means giving everything you have, to make the other person happy and content, even though you may not get back all you give. When you love someone, you only what the best for them. It can cause you pain too but loving someone and being loved back is one of the best things we can experience as humans. We may not have a lot, Levi, but we have each other and more important, we love one another and that makes us privileged.’

     He understood it then, kind of, so the questions stopped.

     However, when his mother’s body laid lifeless in bed, he regretted not making one last question: ‘if you died, do you think anyone would ever love me, mom?’

     Later, when he was under Kenny’s wing and after Kenny had left him at his own, he soon found an answer: no one would.

2. PHILIA or Affectionate love

           After his mother’s death, after Kenny, after everything, he thought that love was out of his reach, something he could never have again. Then Isabel and Farlan happened.

           Every single day since his mother died, he would ask himself if he would love again and if someone would love him back. However, at the same time, he wanted to know nothing about love, love brought pain and he had already suffered enough for a lifetime. He sometimes thought that he had an emptiness inside, a big hole where his heart should be, a room so big that no one could ever fill.

           After his mom came Kenny, but he was sure he did not love him, at least not like he had loved his mother, and he was sure as hell Kenny did not love him back. Love was supposed to be selfless and caring and Kenny was selfish and did not give a damn about him, he proved him that when he left him alone, again.

           Loneliness was a feeling he was already used to but being used to it didn’t mean he liked it. Then again, who would be dumb enough to love him? And he knew better than to love someone who would end up leaving him, like his mother did, like Kenny did.

           Well, maybe he did love Kenny, but loving him was painful. While loving his mother was sweet, freeing and it brought him solace and comfort; loving Kenny was toxic and tough, when he thought about it, it troubled him. He gave him a home and he taught him how to survive in the Underground, he didn’t know why, but he raised him, and Kenny never did something freely, he was sure something was missing there, but he didn’t know what. It was stupid of him to think that he cared about him, but a little white lie never hurt anyone. Loving Kenny, seeing him as the paternal figure he never had, filled him with turmoil and changed the way he perceived love.

           Love was weakness, it could bring you to your knees, he had learned that. It was pointless, why would you commit to something that would inevitably bring you sorrow? He wasn’t about to make the same mistake again, he knew better, the only person who would stay with him was himself and that wasn’t about to change.

           Then Isabel and Farlan walked into his life. Well, Farlan walked, Isabel stumbled.

           They became family. He knew better but he couldn’t help it. They were thick as thieves, literally. Suddenly, they became the family he yearned for since his mother died. He loved them with everything he had. Loving them was selfless as his mother said, he wanted the best for them, he wanted to see them happy, no matter the price. However, it was a different kind of love, it was pure affection. It wasn’t the adoration he had for his mother, nor the rage he felt for Kenny. It was tender and sweet, he never had a brother or a close friend to care about while growing up, but he thought it was supposed to feel like that, it had to be like that. It had to be another type of love. His mother told him that love was never the same, it had different shapes and, for him, at that moment love had Isabel and Farlan’s shape.

           Sadly, nothing good lasts forever, at least not for him. Love causes pain and brings you to your knees, he shouldn’t have forgotten that. When he saw Isabel’s head laying on the floor surrounded by a puddle of her own blood, mouth agape, eyes wide open and pale face, he fell to his knees. He saw a supercut of him, Isabel and Farlan, all the good times, all the laughs they shared and all the stories they still had to write but they would never be able to do because they weren’t there, not anymore, they were gone like his mother, like Kenny. He was alone again.

           Love always brought him to his knees and he would never forget it again. He wasn’t made for love; the same way love wasn’t made for him.

3. LUDUS or Playful love

           Meeting you happened out of pure coincidence, being in the right place at the wrong time.

           He had come from a long mission and he was completely and utterly fine, seriously, but Hange loved to make a big deal out of everything. Well, maybe he had an injury, but a minor one, nothing that he couldn’t take care of himself. He spent years in the Underground, he didn’t need a doctor, he could stitch himself up and place his bones back in place. However, Hange didn’t think the same and was nagging him about getting his injuries checked, so there he was, in one of the infirmary’s bed, waiting for the head doctor.

           It wasn’t that he was scared of doctors or “hospitals”, he just didn’t like the idea of some stranger touching him or feeling hopeless and powerless, he didn’t like feeling like he needed help or advice, he could do it pretty much on his own. But Hange didn’t really trust his medical abilities and he knew that arguing with her was pointless.

           ‘Doctor Brunner couldn’t come since he is busy with some paperwork, so he sent me. I’m his trainee y/n y/ln.’ 

           ‘I’m not letting some failed attempt of medic treat my wounds.’

           It wasn’t what people would call a ‘meet cute’ moment, it was more like a ‘meet jerk’. He wasn’t the best dealing with people, nor that he wanted to be, he preferred it that way. If you had been any other person, you wouldn’t have bitten back, but you had a sharp tongue and weren’t scared of him. That was probably what drew him in, he was so used to people recoiling in fear when they saw him that having someone that actually fought back was quite alluring.

           ‘Well, this failed attempt of a doctor knows more than you ever will, so act your age, stop being a bitch and let me tend your injuries.’

           ‘You have some nerve talking to me like that.’ 

           ‘You have some nerve coming to my workplace to insult me.’

           During that first encounter none of you said much to each other. He wasn’t fond on talking and you didn’t like his attitude, so you didn’t try to strike a conversation. He had to admit that you were good at you job, you tended him with care and you knew what you were doing, not that he would tell you, at least not yet.

           ‘Well, not so bad for a failed attempt of a doctor.’

           It was the closest thing to a compliment he could say, and it looked like you knew, because he swears that he saw you smile a little.

           ‘Aren’t you a pleasure to work with? The injury in your arm was pretty nasty and poorly treated, so luckily for you, you will have to drop by more times to check on you. These are my hours, if you want this failed attempt of a doctor to treat you, Captain. I could get used to see your friendly face now and then.’

           He didn’t know if the last part was supposed to be interpreted as flirting, but he did come back to visit you, to keep an eye of his injury, obviously. However, if you asked Hange, she would say that you had caught his eye, he still says that at that point in your relationship you annoyed him too much to find himself interested in you.

           His weekly visits turned into daily visits, so much for not liking you.

           ‘I’m starting to think I’ve managed to catch your attention, Captain.’ 

          ‘Tch, you’re just less annoying than the rest of the brats.’ 

          ‘Oh Captain, you really know how to make me blush.’

           He lied. You did catch his attention and you both knew it. It wasn’t love, not at all, it was a gentle curiosity that grew a little bit every day, like a flower blossoming.

           ‘Tch, you only know to say shit with that mouth of yours.’ 

           ‘This mouth of mine knows to do a lot of things, want me show you, Captain?’

           ‘When you return from the expedition, you have to come to the infirmary to see your wounds and stop playing the hero, it’s bullshit.’ 

            ‘I’m starting to think you may have an obsession for doing check-ups on me, brat.’ 

           ‘You caught me, I only do them because I can’t keep my hands of you, Captain.’

         ‘Why do you always call me Captain? It’s annoying, I’m not your superior.’

        ‘I know, but I like teasing you with it, Captain.’

        He cared for you more than he cared for other people in his life, he liked being with you, maybe that was another type of love. Loving his mother was selfless; loving Isabel and Farlan was affectionate; loving you, or whatever the hell he was felling, was playful, flirty and it filled him with joy.

       Maybe it wasn’t love, but it was getting there.

4. MANIA or Obsessive love

           Your relationship was frustrating everybody, absolutely every single person that knew about you two, everybody knew you had feelings for each other but none of you did something about it, you just kept tiptoeing around each other. It was painful to see. They didn’t know if you were oblivious, stupid, scared or if you were just messing with them, Hange believed the latter one because there was no way you two weren’t together already. The banter, the flirty remarks, the way he looked out for you and the way you took care of him.

           ‘What’s going on with you and y/n, Shorty?’ 

           ‘You tell me, Four-eyes’

           ‘Tell me the truth, y/n. Are you and Levi dating and just keeping it as a secret? Because I’m losing my mind.’ 

           ‘We aren’t dating, Hange.’

           To be honest, Levi was losing his mind too. The playful game turned into something more serious, something more obsessive and he didn’t like it. He couldn’t stop thinking about you and what were you doing while he was busy with paperwork. On missions his mind wandered about your wellbeing and if you were fine. He couldn’t ignore the way his heartbeat became erratic whenever you were close to him or the way he would notice every single thing about you. He felt powerless, there was no way to stop it.

           He, who always had a plan and knew to do, was helpless under something he could have prevented, or at least something he think he could have avoided. Deep down he knew that he would have fallen for you one way or another, some things are bound to happen, and love is one of them, but he didn’t want to admit that something as mundane as love could outpower him in his own life.

           He was aware of how you felt about him, you weren’t scared to be vocal about it and it drove him mad, and by the way his stoic eyes would gleam and glisten while looking at you, you were certain it was mutual. He knew that if he said the word or gave you signal, you’d be his and he’d be yours, but he couldn’t give you what you wanted, and it was a matter of time before you got tired of him. You were young and beautiful, one the most outstanding creatures he had ever seen, you could do better than him and you’d realize soon enough. Life was too short to waste it on him.

           ‘What are you waiting for, Levi? Do something about it because it’s getting painful to watch.’ 

           ‘Get off my fucking case, Four-eyes.’

           Everyone was waiting for him to do something, but he couldn’t. In those moments he remembered the question he wasn’t able to ask his mother: ‘if you died, do you think anyone would ever love me, mom?’ His mother loved him, and she died, just like Isabel and Farlan, he couldn’t love you, because he’ll end up losing you, the same way he lost everyone else.

           He was loveless.

           But you weren’t, and you found someone to do what he couldn’t do, someone to love you like you deserved.

           He didn’t know a lot about them. You looked happier and that was all he cared about. He thought that seeing you with another person would calm his heart and his desires, but they only got worse, there was no way of forgetting about you. You were everywhere.

           ‘C’mon Levi, do something.’ 

          ‘Didn’t I tell you to drop it, Hange?’

           His visits stopped but you kept waiting for him, hoping he would come to his senses. You didn’t get it, you really didn’t. He had the opportunity, he could have taken the chance to be with you, but he didn’t, so you moved on, or tried to, you didn’t love your partner, but you could see yourself falling in love with them. However, you still missed Levi, not as a potential lover, but as a friend. The way he erased you from his life as you were nothing broke your heart. What did he want from you?

           He wanted everything. He wanted all of you and yet he couldn’t do anything about it. He was just frozen in time while you kept moving. He met your partner, they came to visit you once, they were gentle and loving, they looked at you like you were the brightest star in the firmament. They held your hand and kissed your lips. They did all the things he wanted to do. He was jealous, but he didn’t have the right to say something, he had never had the right.

           The way he looked at you made you feel guilty, like you were betraying him, and you were so confused and annoyed and angry and mad, and you really wanted to punch him in the face. So, you went to his room that night and stormed in.

           ‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’ 

           ‘I should be asking that, I’m not the one barging in someone else’s room with no previous invitation.’

           He had never seen you like that, so mad and full of rage and it was all directed to him and he knew it was his fault.

           ‘What do you want of me, Levi?’

           He wanted everything.

           He wanted you.

           ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. Could you please stop making me lose my time?’

           He saw it in your face, that was the last straw.

           ‘You’re selfish, an asshole, a prick and a lot of other things. But above it all, you’re a fucking coward, so much for Humanity’s Strongest. For fucks sake, Levi, I loved you, I still do, but I can’t keep waiting for someone who is too scared to do something about it. I want you and you want me too. What’s stopping you?’

           He remembered again, the question he never had the chance to ask: ‘if you died, do you think anyone would ever love me, mom?’

           You loved him and you weren’t scared of it. But he was, and you were about to leave the room. You turned your back on him and it was now or never. He had to choose: would he let you walk away definitely of his life or would he do something?

           For once, he didn’t think, he didn’t listen to his head, he listened to his heart. For so long he made himself believe that he didn’t have a heart, but his heart was right there, beating for you.

           He kissed you and you kissed him back.

           ‘Mine.’ 

          ‘Yours.’

5. EROS or Passionate love

           You both were private people, you didn’t want people talking about your relationship during its first stages, what you had was precious and new and you wanted to protect it from the world a little longer. That’s why no one really knew about the whole ordeal, well, they knew that something had shifted because you could be in the same room without making everyone uncomfortable with your unsolved issues, but they couldn’t pinpoint what had exactly changed, they just guessed that you sorted everything out, finally.

           However, Hange did know what changed. She prided herself on knowing Levi, after many years working with him she had learned that Levi only talked through his body language, so she started paying attention to what his body said instead of listening to the words he spewed. Therefore, when she asked him if he was dating you and he said a short no, he knew he was lying. She noticed how he seemed more at ease, how you had broken up with your partner, the way he would gravitate towards you and that when he looked at you, his eyes weren’t filled with longing and remorse, they were shinier and less cold than usual. So, she obviously knew that something was up, but she kept quiet. She may talk way too much, and people could find her annoying, but at the end of the day she was a good friend, and she would respect that neither of you wanted to make things public.

           Keeping things private was harder than he originally thought, he was distant and cold to everyone, but he couldn’t be cold and distant with you when you made him burn inside and he could only think about holding you close. It was weird for him, he had spent so many years deprived of touch that he couldn’t imagine himself getting addicted to it, but he was wrong, so wrong.

           You knew that Levi was touch starved, you didn’t need to be a genius to notice. When you picked up his body language and started hearing about his childhood, everything came together: his mother died when he was very young, the most paternal figure he had was toxic and abusive to him and since Isabel and Farlan he didn’t let anyone in easily. Levi wasn’t used to someone doting him and you knew that if you started showering him with affection, it would probably scare him off a little, and that was the last thing you wanted. So, you started slowly: holding hands, gentle caresses, kisses in his cheek, hugs, light pecks on the lips and when you saw that he started getting more comfortable, things started scaling on their own, you let him mark the pace. It wasn’t a quick process, but it was worth it.

           After a few months, Levi couldn’t keep his hands of you and he surely didn’t want you to keep your hands off him. This was a new kind of love, at first, on the early stages of your relationship it was playful, but then it evolved into something more passionate: quick pecks turned into open mouthed kisses; holding hands innocently turned into holding you close while you came undone under him again and again; kisses now went lower and lower, exploring new parts of you that he hadn’t seen and that no one else would. He didn’t think that touch could mean so much to him, but it did now, and he knew that couldn’t ever go back to a touchless life where you wouldn’t be there to love him.

6. PHILAUTIA or Self-love

          He wasn’t neither deaf, blind or stupid. He could hear what people had to say about your relationship, how you deserved better than him; he could see his reflection on the mirror and how he wasn’t beautiful, at least not as much as you, he wasn’t the male that would make people swoon and he knew that you could have any man or female you wanted, but you chose him, out of every other person, you decided to be with him. He was a lucky bastard and you didn’t make good decisions, what a match.

           You would look at him like he held the stars in the sky, and you would touch him like he was about to disappear in any moment, as if he were a dream you were afraid to wake up from. He didn’t get why him, he wasn’t the most handsome, nor the nicest, nor the easiest to love, and you still decided to keep him around. He liked to think that he was smart or cleverer than the average, and yet he couldn’t grasp his head around that the fact you loved him and just him, and that was it, it was as simple as that.

           Whenever you heard the things people said about your partner, you went feral, because you knew all those comments fueled the self-hate Levi had. Being loveless for so long it obviously affected the perception he had of himself and you wanted to change that, because he deserved it, he deserved all the happiness in this dull world. He liked to play strong, but you saw through him, and even though he never acted upon them, it hurt him. You wished he could see himself through you eyes, because it caused you pain the mere idea of him thinking less of himself, that he wasn’t worthy of your love.

           You would tell him every day how much you loved him, as if you were reciting a prayer to your own god.

           ‘I love you.’

           ‘You’re beautiful.’

           ‘I could stare at you for the rest of my life.’

           ‘I don’t know what I would do without you.’

           You would tell him that he needed to love himself, see the good inside of him, he guessed that that was one the types of love he had yet to discover: self-love. He didn’t see himself capable of loving himself nearly the half of how much you loved him.

           ‘You know one reason why you should love yourself, because you make me the happiest I’ve ever been.’

              He didn’t love himself, not yet, but if he was able to make you smile like that, he couldn’t be that unworthy of you.

7. STORGE or Familiar love

              He had been avoiding love for as long as he could remember, and then you burst into his life with the force of a typhoon. Love had found him, and he couldn’t get away, you never can, it was a lesson that he had finally accepted.

             For so long he saw love as something unnecessary, a burden for the soul. Love ruins you, it stabs you on the back, whenever he let his walls down, love would always take advantage of it and destroy him, bringing him closer to insanity, he had lost himself too many times by loving people and when he met you, he did not want the cycle to repeat itself. He didn’t want more Kuchels, Kennys, Isabels and Farlans, love was merciless, and he wasn’t interested in it, at least that was what he told to himself every day, that he was better off alone. Was all the pain worth it? He thought love came with a high price and he couldn’t afford it. However, things change, life happens, destiny has always something in the store, well, in his case he had someone.

           You were his everything, the beacon that brought light in his life, for so long he had been lost, walking amongst shadows, nearly becoming one, and when you appeared you changed the rules of the game, of his game. Every wall he had built around himself came down and you filled every gap his heart was missing. It was the scariest thing he had ever done, letting you in, letting someone in, giving someone else the control of his own heart. You knew the power you held between your hands and you never abused it. You were his solace in this mad world, the oasis in the middle of the desert.

         Loving him was not easy, he knew it, he was rude, sharp, too closed off, mean, he was what people liked to call a ‘fucking jerk’ and yet you never gave up on him, on what you had. Instead of leaving when you had the chance, you stayed through thick and thin: through sleepless nights, through his bad moods and grumpiness, through his biting remarks… .You didn’t ran way, you were too stubborn for that, instead you taught him more forms of love.

         You were all of the ones he knew and more.

         You were selfless, giving him every part of you and loving him with everything you had to offer.

         You were his best friend, his companion, the better half of him.

         You were playful, joyous, probably the only thing that could make him smile and bring him happiness.

         You were consuming, like a fire burning inside of him.

         You were passionate, intoxicating.

         You were every form of love he had ever experienced, but nothing could have ever prepared him for the kind of love he was experiencing in that moment: the familiar one. The one you feel when you hold your newborn in your trembling hands. It was something he couldn’t describe, there weren’t words for it, he tried to, but he failed every single time.

         This was the way his mom loved him, and then he knew how much he had meant for his own mother. While holding little Kuchel on his arms, he remembered all those days and nights on that dirty brothel, all the hours he spent by his mother’s side, how she would do everything to give him the best life and he soon realized there was nothing in this world he wouldn’t do for his daughter. It wasn’t the best of times to have a child, but in that moment, in that precise instant, when Kuchel opened her grey eyes, he was sure of one thing: he would tear everything and everyone down only to see her smile.

        A knock on the door. Another one. Two minutes passed and then Hange, followed by Erwin, entered in the room.

       ‘Tch, Shitty-glasses, who gave you permission to come in?’ 

       ‘My authority as a god-mother.’

       ‘Don’t make me regret it.’

      ‘She’s beautiful, what’s her name?’ 

     ‘Her name is Kuchel.’

     Kuchel was his new world, he loved her so much that it was overwhelming, he would never love someone as much as he loved her, and no one would probably love with the same devotion Levi Ackerman loved his daughter.

    ‘You know, Kuchel, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me and I promise you that you will have the best life a man like me can give you. I may be a little cold, perhaps a little strict and you will probably get mad at me sometimes, but no matter what happens, I will love you through everything. And by the way, no dating until I’m dead because no brat will be good enough for you. You deserve the world Kuchel and I’ll give you everything it has to offer. Things may get hard, you aren’t born in the best circumstances, but I’ll protect you because you deserve the life I couldn’t live.’

     Kuchel’s first word was ‘dadda’.

     Kuchel’s first steps were pointed towards his father.

     Kuchel’s favorite pastime was being in his father’s arms.

     Kuchel could only sleep after his father had kissed her forehead.

     And Kuchel would never love someone as much as he loved his father, because she loved him as much as he loved her.

8. PRAGMA or Enduring love

           He was old and wrinkly, he was scarred, mutilated and there were days he couldn’t sleep because the nightmares were too real. But he was happy, he was married to the most beautiful and special person he had ever met, he had a loving daughter, a bunch of brats he was proud to call grandchildren and the tea shop he had always dreamed about.

           Life hadn’t been fair to him. He had lost so many people he cared about, he had fought a war and he had had the weight of the world on his shoulders. But, after all, after the tortures, the adversities, the deaths… He had people who loved and whom he loved.

          Love was worth it. He had finally learned that.

          At his seventies he found out about the last kind of love, the enduring, the one that lasts and survives in time. He loved his family above everything, and he would love them long after his bones turn into ashes and no one remembers his name.

         Then he recalled that question he never got to ask his mother: ‘if you died, do you think anyone would ever love me, mom?’

         He looked at the sky and smiled.

        ‘After all someone was fool enough to love me mom, who would have thought?’

         A gentle breeze caressed his skin and a single tear fell from his eye.

        ‘I guess that’s the way you have of answering the question.’

[aminiatureworld]

Affection

Characters: Albedo, Beidou, Keqing, Zhongli, gn!reader

Word Count: 4,705

Warnings: Swearing

Premise: Sometime we know something is impossible from the start. But still we walk towards it, even if we know it will hurt us. It’s only flirting, only a smile or a hug or some food. Even if nothing comes of it, there is nothing to regret. Even if it hurts.

In which the reader gives affection, expecting nothing in return.

Author’s Note: More “new” characters! I’ve been neglecting Keqing and Beidou, they deserve some love. I hope as always their characterizations live up to expectations! This was very fun to write, so I hope you enjoy it!

I couldn’t tell whether to make this melancholy or fluffy, so I guess I half-and-half-ed it. Best of both worlds, right? Although the tone feels definitely lighter.

Albedo

Your friends never could figure out why you were flirting with Albedo.

“That alchemist has nothing on his mind but work,” one of them once told you, “he’ll never reciprocate your feelings you know.”

“I know.” You’d replied, smiling the sort of smile people put on when they’re trying to show they’re not annoyed. “I know he doesn’t like me in that way, you don’t have to tell me.”

“Then why are you doing it?”

“Because I want to.” You’d shrugged, shifting the conversation to some other topic. In all honesty, it wasn’t as if your friend was lying. But neither were you, not really. There wasn’t any good explanation for why you were flirting with Albedo after all. You knew that he’d never take it seriously, knew you weren’t good enough for it anyways. Maybe that’s why you flirted with him. Maybe it was better to make the slightest fool of yourself than drive yourself mad thinking about something that could never be.

So you continued on your merry, if slightly self-destructive way. Every time you saw Albedo, which was quite a bit considering the fact you were often posted around Dragonspine and spent a lot of your free time in the square right outside his office, you ran his way, asking him what he was doing, or telling him about your own day. You’d developed this habit of leaning in a bit whenever he spoke to you, and the slight pause he gave as his smile grew wider whenever you did made your heart soar.

Not that you ever started thinking there was ever a chance. I mean, come on. Albedo was Albedo and you were you. There was a great deal of distance between the two of you, as if you were standing on opposite sides of a bridge which was liable to fall at any moment. You could shout across at each other, but never did you attempt to walk over to him, knowing it’d surely result in disaster.

Still, why did you flirt with Albedo? The question sort of haunted you at times. You enjoyed his company, you’d even told him you enjoyed his company. He’d smiled his sedate smile, pausing for a moment to look away from the painting he was working on. “I enjoy your company too.” He’d said, before turning back to his work. It was a quiet, calm, even sort of response, just the sort you’d expected. And yet you kept going, and though you made no attempt to push the boundaries or go any farther, you still wondered at times what the point of it was.

Perhaps following that line of thought was a bit dangerous. You found the more you asked yourself what you expected out of your closeness with Albedo, the more absent you seemed to be. It wasn’t as if you were trying to avoid him or anything, no quite the contrary. It was only that you tended to want to be alone when you were thinking about something like this. Reaching out was hard, especially to the person who you were thinking about.

“Are you alright?” You glanced up from the lunch you were pondering over to see Albedo leaning over you. Feeling your cheeks redden you jumped slightly.

“Albedo! Oh I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying any attention to my surroundings! Sit down!” You gestured vaguely to the spot on the bench next to you. Albedo smiled politely, sitting down as directed. He seemed to sober however once he was sitting, scanning your face for something, though you weren’t sure what that something was.

“You seem… absent recently, I was wondering if something was the matter.”

“Oh, I’m perfectly fine!” You shook your hands out in front of you. “I guess I’ve just been sort of busy recently, or maybe a little tired I guess. You know that the festival is coming up, right? Well Acting Grand Master Jean is really running us ragged! But I promise I’ll be back to normal soon!” You laughed awkwardly; it wasn’t as if you weren’t telling the truth per se, just… not the whole truth. But you’d rather not put all your troubles on Albedo, not when he was reaching out to see if you were okay. Smiling once more you attempted to switch topics. “How’s your research? Have you found something new while I’ve been gone?”

“Yes, I’ve begun to study the reaction between macrophage and eukaryotic cells in contrast with prokaryotic cells, and how adding elemental effects to reactions either speeds up or slows down the reaction. But I’m glad to hear you’re alright,” Albedo seemed to relax a bit, leaning backwards slightly on the bench, “everything has been much quieter with you gone. It’s unnatural, I can’t focus as well. I keep finding myself distracted by little things. I look forward to participating in our conversations once more.”

“Well I’ll be there soon!” You promised, heart fluttering slightly. Did he really mean that? I mean sure, it didn’t mean anything more than what was on the tin. Your situation hadn’t changed that much. Still, it meant something to you that Albedo wasn’t just tolerating your presence, that he was actually somewhat involved in your friendship. “I promise I’ll have some very interesting topics of conversation when I come back.”

“Good.” Albedo nodded once more before smiling slightly sheepishly. “My workspace is currently going through a cleaning and the lab isn’t supposed to let any foreign substances in in; would you mind terribly if I ate with you?”

“Not at all!” You responded. “I love spending my free time with you. What have you brought?”

Why did you flirt with Albedo? Why did you seek out his presence despite you and everyone around you knowing full well that it was never going to come to anything? What did you even think of Albedo? Well you could answer that last one at least. You loved him. You loved him very much. And even if he didn’t reciprocate the way you did, even if your friends told you it was pointless and your mind chastised you for putting yourself through the ringer, even if all that was true, you weren’t going to stop. Because you were Albedo’s friend and he was yours. And for now that was enough.

Even if a part of you continued to hope that one day this would change.

 Beidou

Beidou was utterly out of your league and you knew it.

It wasn’t exactly a difficult conclusion to come to after all. Brash, outspoken, good with a sword, Beidou embodied that sort of restless, self-reliant spirit you wish you yourself could emanate.

It didn’t hurt that Beidou had essentially rescued you from destitution, having found you languishing in a corner of one of the seedier docks of Liyue, and having taken you in quickly after the fact. You owed her a great deal, and was glad to do so. After all you’d fallen hopelessly in love with Beidou.

Life aboard a slightly illegal ship was bound to be an intimate one. Everyone knew everything about everyone else, and it was very difficult to find someone that hadn’t heard about your crush. Someone who wasn’t Beidou, that was. Although it wasn’t like you attempted to hide it; you just never brought it out in the open. And who could blame you? How could anyone who’d nearly died of starvation waiting for some sort of divine help compare to the bravest captain you’d ever met?

So you two settled into a routine of sorts, at least in your mind. You ate every meal as close to her as possible, something which had been difficult at first but as the “secret” spread around became almost comically easy, you discussed your plans with her first, gave her various trinkets you’d found in your travels, asked her opinions about your weapon then asked her to train with you. The training sessions had almost killed your resolve not to tell her, nothing was so intimate as having someone constantly checking your posture, moving and arm here a leg there, closely monitoring how you moved and acted.

All the while you said nothing. It felt selfish after all to even think about it. Beidou had many a time told her crew that they were one big family. On top of the obviously platonic motives behind her love for you, you weren’t about to impose on the crew by trying to take the spot as favorite or partner. It’d make you feel sleazy.

But damn if sometimes your resolve wasn’t tempted. It was the night after a particularly successful raid, and everyone was drunk out of their minds. Even you were tipsy, although compared to the rest you were positively sober. Sitting next to Beidou, who was walking up and down the tables making speeches of various levels of comprehensibility, you thanked the archons above that this woman had saved you. It was all worth the pain and suffering, if only to see her smile, which was blinding at the moment.

“You were brave, my dear compatriots! Distinguished! Honored! Positively courageous!” Beidou let out a slight “hic”, her vocabulary always did turn a bit grand when she drank too much. “Indeed, I’m sure not even the greatest of emperors had an army which could rival the visage of our band of brothers! Storming the deck, why we all might’ve perished! Damned visions, they’re for cheaters! For fraudsters! You all fight without them, and in doing so you prove yourself far more valiant, far more exemplary than they do!” Evidently Beidou had forgotten she herself was a vision wielder. Then again, so had everyone else.

“On this night of victory, of perilous and prestigious triumph, I wish to congratulate the greatest of warriors! This! My proverbial right hand man, the distinguished…” Beidou turned around towards you, gesturing in a very flamboyant sort of manner. You stood there, shocked by the sudden attention, blushing deeply, brain so filled with awe that you only half realized Beidou couldn’t remember your name.

“Yes! This person, this noble scalawag!” Beidou lifted you up so you were standing next to her, archons was she strong. “Now I don’t believe in laws, but if I did I’d marry them I would! You all ought to be more like them, mark my words I want to see some shaping up! There are no levels on this ship, but if there were they’d be higher than you all! Pay attention to my words, they are final!” And with that, speech apparently over, Beidou planted a soft, if slightly messy, kiss on your cheek.

If it weren’t for the people around you, you might’ve fainted.

The next day announced itself with a headache, though as the least hungover of the group you were put in charge of dishing out the medicine and water. The whole ship appeared to be groaning, and though the crew was usually quite active and excited at almost any hour of the day, you could tell that most of the men and women just wanted to roll over and go back to sleep.

“Captain wants to see you when you’re done with your rounds.” There were a few other people helping you out, and the one that informed you about this raised an eyebrow as you promptly turned white as a sheet, before a splotchy shade of red covered your face. What was she going to say? Had she remembered what had happened the night before? You admitted to yourself that maybe banking on Beidou forgetting was a doomed cause from the start. Beidou was perhaps brash and a lover of alcohol, but her memory was sharp, and she somehow managed to never drink herself to total incompetence. If you challenged a drunk Beidou to a duel your chances were going to be about the same as if you’d challenged her sober. Hell maybe they’d be even worse. With that grim thought in mind you distributed the last of the medicine, wiping your hands needlessly on your clothes before walking towards the captain’s cabins.

You loved Beidou’s cabins, they somehow seemed both incredibly grand and inexplicably homey. With furniture made out of a plush and luxurious red sort of material, it was nonetheless crowded by knickknacks; drawings, carvings, and other such paraphernalia littered the shelves and the dressers. Beidou had once told you almost all of it was from current or former shipmates. The luxuries they stole had no use in her home.

“Captain Beidou?” You ventured. The captain was at her desk, scribbling out something, probably a plan. She loved to plan in her free time, whether or not the plan was something doable or a total fantasy. Now she looked up, setting her pen down and smiling her classic, cocky grin.

“Ah, my favorite shipmate. How’re we feeling today?”

“W-well!” You managed to get out, a bit distracted by the nickname. Ah, it seemed she had remembered at least part of it. “Um, captain, I was told you wanted to see me.”

“Yes, I did. I’ve been thinking since last night, thinking a great deal, and I was wondering, what would you think to becoming my partner, in a, well, romantic sort of sense.”

“So suddenly?” You replied, eyes widening but nevertheless cracking a smile. Beidou’s confession had been blunt, devoid of all the usual flourishes. And yet it was what you wanted, what you’d always wanted.

“Well why not?” Beidou shrugged nonchalantly. “After all considering how you’ve been acting towards me for the past few months, I figured why not become my partner. Unless I’ve been reading you wrong of course.”

“No!” You exclaimed. “I mean yes, I mean, well yes to the first and no to the second. I’d love to become your partner, and you haven’t been reading me wrong.” Your gaze dropped to the floor. “I just figured I wasn’t good enough. I mean you’re… you. And besides, you said we were all a family. I figured you wouldn’t want me as a partner.”

Beidou raised her eyebrow slightly as her smile melted into a smirk. Shaking her head slightly she approached you, raising your gaze every so slightly. “Well I can tell you right now I’m not too good for you. Not only are you good with a weapon, but you’re about as tough and fearless as they come. I don’t want to hear about how you’re secretly scared or whatnot. Everyone is that doesn’t matter. But you fight well and without second thought. And I admire that. And as for the speech about family, well a romantic partner is family of some kind. Besides the crew won’t mind, they’ve been talking about it for ages.”

“I guess they have.” You blushed; apparently Beidou hadn’t been as uninformed as you thought.

“Any last words before you’re my partner?” Beidou’s smile was as wide as you’d ever seen it and just as infectious; you grinned back.

“I love you.”

“Good. Now,” Beidou smiled, planting a soft kiss on your cheek and then a peck on your lips – something which left you grasping for coherent thought “let’s tell the others.”

 Keqing

Working with Keqing was an experience akin to slowly dying inside.

You’d become somewhat enamored with the Yuheng of the Liyue Qixing ever since you’d first met her. Her brusque and honest manner was refreshing, and when listening to her talk about the archons, about Liyue, about how the past and the present tied together, you never really seemed to question her. She always gave off the impression of intelligence, and, unlike some others you’d met, she had the brains to back it up. And what could you say? Before you knew it you had a crush on her.

Yet working with her showed other sides of Keqing too. She was very self-conscious when it came to compliments. Not that she minded them per se, as one time you’d asked her if your constant praise was a bother. “I just never know how to respond.” She’d admitted, and to be fair you understood that. But as long as she told you she liked them you’d compliment her.

Of course you knew it could never go beyond that. Keqing was your coworker; she was your superior in almost every way, both in occupation and in character. She never lost her cool or found herself off guard when fighting treasure hoarders or when dealing with rowdy citizens. She was efficient, capable, and aware of her incredible abilities. And she didn’t feel the need for a partner, something she had told you every time someone else worked up the courage to ask her out. You couldn’t bring yourself to impose on her like they did, not when you knew what her answer would be.

It was a slightly disheartening existence, and indeed sometimes you wondered what the point of it was, wondered if you shouldn’t just quit. But that wouldn’t be fair, not to Liyue, and not to Keqing herself. She relied upon the other members of the Liyue Qixing  to work efficiently and without sudden disruption. And the sudden quitting of someone who was hardly at the bottom of the ranks would’ve certainly done just that.

Besides, Keqing was first and foremost your friend. It was a bit of a fragile friendship, yes, but it was friendship nonetheless; and you valued that friendship well above your own infatuation. If you had to bottle your feelings up so be it. You owed it to Keqing to keep it together, to not impose on her what she obviously didn’t want and to not punish her for it by drawing away. So it hurt, so what? A lot of things hurt, doesn’t mean they aren’t worth doing or experiencing. And this was certainly one of those things.

It was late evening, and most of the cubicles were dark. You sat, writing the last few sentences of a report, trying to ignore the headache that had been developing since earlier that day. A friend had attempted to set you up on a blind lunch date, and though you appreciated their motive the whole thing had been a chore, and now you were late on your work.

“Almost done?” Keqing’s voice broke through your mental grumblings. Looking up at her you nodded, and Keqing smiled in satisfaction. “Good. Can’t have one of our best workers getting sick on account of working too hard.”

“I won’t get sick.” You assured her. Finally stamping the paper you let out a sigh leaning back in your chair.

“A difficult day?”

“You could say that,” you admitted, “a friend went on a slightly appreciated but incredibly unnecessary mission to get me to go out on a date. Honestly, I’d rather her just treat me to lunch.”

“I can understand the feeling.” Keqing frowned in sympathy. “People are too obsessed with the idea of romance, so much so it blinds them. There are more important things in this world.”

“I’d say most people consider love pretty important.” You commented. Keqing shook her head in response.

“Perhaps, but aren’t ideals better than individual wishes? Romance may be fun, perhaps, but there are other things to consider. Besides, I find your company far more enjoyable than I would any date.”

“You do?” You responded, heart fluttering slightly; you hoped Keqing didn’t notice the blush spreading across the bridge of your nose and coloring your cheeks. Luckily it was slightly dark in the office.

“Oh certainly,” Keqing waved her hand dismissively, “you’re the best coworker and friend I’ve ever had. No significant other could give me advice like you do, or help me so much when I’m struggling with work or with my thoughts, and dates are so formal and boring and awkward compared to spending an afternoon with you. Really I’m perfectly content relationship wise with our friendship. Relationships are full of pitfalls, people keeping this little thing from their partner, or omitting that little act. No, better to have an open and supportive friendship like we do.”

“I’m glad you think so.” You replied, and really you did. You’d known since day one that a romantic relationship was off the table. So if you could stay by Keqing’s side and support her, if only a little longer, then you’d be perfectly content.

Even if a part of you still wished that things could’ve been different.

 Zhongli

To be fair to Zhongli you weren’t sure how much he understood of any type of human relationship. The fact that the Geo Archon had befriended you in the first place was an achievement in itself.

And yet he had befriended you, and soon you’d found yourself falling in love with the slightly aloof, slightly out of touch geo archon. Zhongli was much more than that of course. Surprisingly open, the ex-deity took to finding out information about humanity with zeal. Always eager to ask you questions and to hear about how your day had gone or how you felt after something particularly happy or sad or gratifying, Zhongli had morphed into a pseudo confidante for you. Someone you found yourself relying on more and more. His gentle nature didn’t hurt either, or his looks for that matter; all in all Zhongli seemed like the perfect sort of person, and though you knew that you’d never be able to measure up to an archon, you found yourself unable to suppress the overwhelming love you felt for him.

Zhongli didn’t seem to mind your openness at all, indeed he sort of relished it, or at least he seemed to. Every time you reached out to grab his hand he gladly slipped it into yours, and whenever you ran up and hugged him after a long period of not seeing one another he always hugged you back. He’d eat lunches with you, and sometimes dinners, and sometimes weekends were spent running around Liyue, or at home listening to one another’s stories or reading one another’s books. It’s truly a magical sort of feeling to share a book with someone. But then again with Zhongli everything seemed magical.

Of course affection aside the whole matter never crossed the line of friendship. You never told him of your affections, and in return Zhongli never initiated anything further than conversation. Not that it bothered you; you felt there was a bit of a gap between you and Zhongli. After all surely it was idealization which caused you to recognize that someone like Rex Lapis had no want or inclination towards engaging in a relationship with a mere mortal. Facts are facts, and there’s no changing them, no matter how much you wanted to.

And yet how odd fate is.

“What is being in love like?”

You looked up at Zhongli, trying desperately to act as if you hadn’t felt your heart rate spike to unhealthy levels.

“Uhm… what do you mean what is love like?”

“I’ve noticed mortals are very enamored with love. I have to admit, my experience with romance is minimal; archons and adepti seldom see romance as something that affects them. But I want to know, as a human, what is love like to you?” There was no mockery or sense of superiority in Zhongli’s face. Not that you expected there to be. Zhongli never looked down upon humans as unequal. Many times he’d told you he admired them. Taking a breath you thought of your answer.  

“Well… hmm. Love is very different for everyone. To some love is like an inferno; it’s very sudden and very intense. It sort of burns them up, it’s all they think about. I think that’s less love, more infatuation, but to some that is indeed love. To others love is sort of… staid. It’s being able to rely on them, to talk to them about anything and everything without feeling embarrassed or like you have to put on some sort of show. It’s knowing that there’s someone who will always side with you or help you realize what’s right, or be there when you feel terrible. To them love isn’t passionate, it’s comforting.”

“And to you?” Zhongli interrupted, a look of thoughtfulness on his face.

“Well to me it’s somewhere in the middle, I suppose to most people it’s somewhere in the middle. And this is only romantic love after all. Love is so big, so all encompassing, I think it’s hard to pin down. But to me romantic love is both; it is the passion that causes people to do crazy things and espouse crazy sorts of ideals, and it is the staid comfort of knowing there is someone who will always understand you, and always support you in that understanding.” You paused, realizing you’d been prattling on a bit. “Why, may I ask? Is there a reason you want to know.”

“Yes,” Zhongli admitted, voice slightly less calm than usual. “I, I’ve been thinking about my feelings towards someone a great deal recently; they’ve been alien, although not distressing per se. They feel as if I’m always on some sort of edge, but I don’t feel upset by it. Instead I want to approach it, want to be around the person who makes me feel that way. I wanted to understand that emotion more. I wondered if it was love. Thank you for answering my question, it was most enlightening.”

“That person must be very lucky.” You replied, keeping your tone as light as possible, trying to ignore your emotions, which had risen and dropped so very quickly. “I suppose I’ll have to lay off on the affection now. Part of love is sometimes being a little bit jealous, at least in the beginning, at least for some people. It’s silly, really, but I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that.” Zhongli’s tone was surprisingly wry, as if there was a joke somewhere you’d missed.

“Why?” You asked, brow furrowing slightly.

“Because the person whom I was enquiring about is you.”

Honestly you would’ve been less surprised if Zhongli had told you that he was going to run away from Liyue and join the circus. All you could manage to sputter out was: “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure!” Zhongli chuckled slightly. He raised his hand, gloved fingers ghosting your cheek as he tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear. “I’ve suspected it for some time, but I wanted to be sure. Are you alright with me telling you this?”

Alright? You were over the moon! Had you ever been this happy before? You weren’t sure, but you were happy now.

“Of course it’s alright. Zhongli, I’ve liked you for months now.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” Zhongli tilted his head slightly in confusion. You stared down at your hands, slightly embarrassed.

“I thought I wasn’t good enough for you. I mean you’re an archon and I’m a mortal. I’m hardly different from the other people of Liyue, and I just, I don’t know, I was scared of rejection, I was scared you’d think I was overstepping and that our friendship would crumble. And I didn’t think I could stand that.”

At first Zhongli said nothing, instead he held out his hand. You gladly placed your palm in his, comforted by its warmth.

“You shouldn’t hold yourself so cheaply,” Zhongli spoke softly, “there are a great many extraordinary things about you. Your affectionate nature, your determination to live even when the world is dark and dangerous, your willingness to open your heart to some ancient archon who knows little of humans. If that’s not extraordinary, I don’t know what is. I don’t feel towards anyone as I do towards you, at least I haven’t in a long time. So don’t think of yourself that way anymore, please.”

“I won’t.” You replied. And it was true. You knew you wouldn’t be able to, not anymore. Zhongli would make sure of that, already you could tell.

To some love burns like fire in the mind, to other it wraps you up in a blanket of comfort. You felt incredibly lucky, for you despite yourself demanded both, and somehow fate had bestowed it upon you. And for that you would be forever grateful.

[yandere-daydreams]

requests are open!!! what about a soft yandere fairy with a darling that accidentally wanders into their forest and won't let them leave? thank u sm!

I’ve never been able to resist a classic Yandere!Fae who can’t seem to understand why their lovely little Darling won’t give them a name and volunteer their free will without a struggle. It’s nice to be soft for a change, too, if only for the dialogue.

Title: Creation and Control.

TW: Imprisonment and Mind-Control.

~

You chose not to dance, tonight.

It wasn’t because you had anything better to do. The fae could hunt, they could harvest and maintain their make-shift homes and do whatever they wished once the sun slipped low in the sky, but as a human, a guest who’d been forced to overstay their welcome, you could only choose between joining one of the swirling, ever-growing circles or not doing so. For whatever reason, you’d picked the latter, taking a seat on a fallen tree-trunk and watching as strangers without names laughed and smiled and sobbed, some of them unfamiliar, and others prisoners like yourself, unable to leave because of magic or fate or in your case, a golden elixir you hadn’t known better than to drink. A goblet of it sat at your feet, now, but you didn’t pay it any mind. If only for the sake of protecting your pride.

Despite this, your attention dropped to the grail as a familiar figure started to approach, heavy footsteps muffled by the soft glass of the clearing. You didn’t have to greet him or be greeted in return, not when there was only one person who dared to speak to you.  Who bothered to speak to you, really. It wasn’t like a conversation with someone else’s personal pet would draw much interest, not from a group that had already seen so many of your kind come and go.

You only looked up when a long, lean hand came to rest on your shoulder, pressing down for a moment before you gave in, tilting your head back and letting your eyes meet the swirls of green and gold just beginning to pry into you. Durin, although that was more of a title than a name. The warden to your prison of trees and mushrooms and enchanting, unnerving smiles.

He spoke first. He always did. You were an object to be addressed, here, rather than one expected to speak out of turn. “My dear,” He started, already sliding a thin wooden comb in your waiting hand. “Indulge me and I promise, you won’t be pestered again until sunrise.”

You didn’t need further instruction. You pulled your legs onto the trunk and Durin lowered himself into the space they’d once occupied, soon sitting outstretched in front of you. It was a mind-numbing activity, braiding a head of long, pale hair into whatever dizzying pattern its owner requested, but you had plenty of practice, both from the task you were currently performing and the less patient stallions you used to care for on your family’s farm. You wondered if anyone took up to responsibility, now that you weren’t there to carry it out. You wondered if anyone even noticed you were gone. “It’s not difficult,” You mumbled, running your comb through a series of non-existent knots. “You could learn to do this yourself, if you wanted to. It’d be faster than coming to me.”

“I could, hypothetically, but I’m afraid we monsters don’t share your talents.” He paused, letting out a pleased hum as your blunt nails scraped idly against his scalp. “Hunting braids, perhaps, but nothing so…” He trailed off, rolling two fingers in a vague, arbitrary gesture. “Nothing so pointless. The Gods blessed us with many things, but alas, no one thought to add ‘creation’ to that list.”

Your response was delayed. You’d heard of their curse before, in tales of the suffering that was said to accompany any slight endeavor into turning one thing into another, but you’d never quite believed it. You supposed it was fitting, though. Durin didn’t seem like the kind of refined soul who would dwell in the sparsely decorated cave he called a home for any reason less than necessity. “I hardly think brushing your own hair would incur divine wrath.”

“If you can break one rule, you’re bound to break the rest. I wouldn’t be reduced to a pile of smoldering ash, but I doubt the consequences would be pleasant,” He explained, twisting to his side just enough to see you without disturbing the three tangled trails you were desperately trying to guide to an agreeable meeting point. “Are you trying to say you don’t enjoy my company, love?”

You didn’t answer him. With a particularly harsh tug to the strand you were holding, you forced him to wince, freeing you from his gaze with minimal effort. “And that’s why I’m here?” You asked, the words more a declaration of grudging recognition than a real question. “To braid your hair and tend to your every need, because you’re so tragically unable to?”

At that, he seemed to take offense, leaning back and into your lap, spoiling your progress as carelessly as he’d demanded it. You could see his face, like this, an expression of defined lines and pointed ears and traits that weren’t quite not uncanny. You might’ve said there was a hint of a collar bone beneath his loose tunic, but there could be no hints, not with Durin. He was the romantic interpretation of a man, something that got so close to being a perfect replica, but whose creator was too fond of embellishments to truly design something real. You could accept that you’d once thought of him as human, but you couldn’t forgive yourself for holding onto that belief for so long. Others in his entourage their otherness more obvious, decorating themselves with horns and hooves and whatever they liked, and while Durin was less apparent, he made no attempt to hide his wrongness. His grin, suddenly full of pointed, predatory teeth, was enough to prove that.

“You’re here because I want you to be.” He never looked away, never blinked, and abruptly, it occurred to you that he might not have to. “You’re here because I saw a young, vulnerable human wandering through my territory, following the calls of members of my court, and I decided to take pity on what should’ve been the main course of our next feast. And, because I’ve come to care for you despite your doubt, you will remain here. Allowing you to dote on me is just another privilege I’m kind enough to provide.”

It wasn’t the first time you’d had this conversation. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last, and you knew that. As well as you knew the color of the sky and the time of day, you knew that. You knew it, and yet, you found yourself frowning, stiffening, gritting your teeth as you resisted the urge to shove him away. “If you were kind, you would let me go. You know I don’t want to be here.”

His smile wavered, then dropped. “I don’t think I like your tone.”

“I don’t think I like being a hostage.” You didn’t try to stop yourself, pushing him off of your lap and fleeing from your informal, ruined haven. You had to force yourself to breathe, to inahle and exhale and make yourself calm down, but even that did little to calm your temper, only making you feel more like a child attempting to express their discontent. “You trapped me here. You took me someplace I don’t wish to be, and now, I can’t leave. How is that kind? How are you guiltless--”

“(Y/n).”

It was a silent command. You could feel it, something vile forcing its way into your veins and solidifying, rendering you speechless and paralyzed as Durin shook his head, letting out a ragged sigh before he bothered to raise a hand, gesturing for you to come to him. You didn’t have a choice, your movements rigid and your thoughts barely your own, but your body was quick to obey him, to stumble its way to its captor and fall into his lap the moment he expressed his desire for you to do so. His control faded as his arms wrapped around you, but Durin didn’t act to reinstate it, only reaching behind him and pushing something small and solid into your palm.

The comb. Sleek and wooden and so, so awful. You were tempted to cry, if only in frustration.

But, you didn’t try to resist.

Instead, you choked down your complaints and began working where you left off, attempting to ignore the contented, toothy smile now pressing into your skin.

[dangermousie]

2020 End of Year Post - kdrama edition

You can find my 2020 cdrama post here: dangermousie.tumblr.com/post/638449659546845184/2020-end-of-year-post-cdrama-edition

This is only going to cover kdramas that aired in 2020; if it originally aired another year, it’s not on this list.

It’s been a pretty lackluster kdrama year. There are probably only 5 kdramas I truly loved and only three of them I was really obsessed over. Better luck in 2021!

DRAMAS WATCHED

(In order of liking from least to most as opposed to pure quality; I am including if I’ve seen enough to make up my mind; yes I realize that’s inaccurate, but that’s my list)

42 Born Again - so bad, so incoherent, so insane, I have no idea why the leads signed up for it (and unlike some of the other watchers, I think it was awful from the very start.) There is literally nothing about this drama that makes sense.

41 Love with Flaws - a bunch of people who should be tried under the Geneva Convention.

40 Sweet Munchies - Jung Il Woo proves his inability to pick a functional script.

39 Meow the Secret Boy - if you ever wanted to bang a cat, this drama is for you. Not being a furry, however...

38 Do Do Sol Sol La Sol - I lost braincells just typing out this title.

37 When I Was the Most Beautiful - the only way it’s not the dumbest, most pointless melo of 2020 is because Born Again considerately came out the same year.

36 Woman of 9.9 Billion - if you want to watch an artsy French movie about miserable people, but only badly made, boy do I have a drama for you.

35 Lies after Lies - screams after screams.

34 Backstreet Rookie - people were up in arms about various problematic plots. I am a survivor of many plots much more problematic but even I couldn’t survive how utterly boring and annoying this drama was and how utterly irritating the leads were. This has taken Ji Chang Wook off my top favorites into “should I even check his latest Lovestruck in the City? Probably not” territory almost single-handedly (Melt Me helped, to be fair.)

33 Men Are Men - boring is boring.

32 Dinner Mate - two beautiful boring people eat out a lot.

31 Was It Love - no it wasn’t.

30 Alice - Joo Won in the shower can make up for a multitude of sins but not plot nonsense of such magnitude. When you find yourself thinking it would be better if he hooked up with the alternate universe version of his mother because at least then something entertaining would happen, you know it’s bad.

29 More than Friends - started out OK, then made me hate basically everyone and kept going.

28 Start-Up - honestly, it’s probably more decent than its place here, but the toxic and batshit fandom for it (the worst this year) made me feel like breaking out in hives any time it’s even mentioned.

27 The Spies who Loved Me - how to take a good cast and waste it.

26 Private Lives - it was good but it never took off with its concept and spent more time on the incoherent plot than the OTP which was its one strength. It’s a decent drama but coming after Heartless City and My Beautiful Bride from the same writer, it’s a disappointment.

25 Record of Youth - as high as it is due to Park Bo Gum hard carrying this entire awful drama on his shoulders and doing it so well I finished it. Alas, while he is in one drama (and that drama is great), the rest of the characters and the entirety of the script are a pointless useless mess.

24 Do You Like Brahms - excellent first third, mediocre middle, and terrible last third. I don’t know what musical term applies to this? Diminuendo, I think.

23 I’ll Go to You When the Weather is Nice - nice and mellow but nothing much happens.

22 Forest - mainly for Park Hae Jin’s excellent and frequently naked bod.

21 The Ballot - I didn’t love it as much as everyone did but it was well-made.

20 Hyena - more romance and less weird law stuff would make it better.

19 365 Repeat the Year - surprisingly solid.

18 The Game Towards Zero - see 365.

17 When My Love Blooms - very old fashioned, very lovely.

16 Chocolate - also very old fashioned and very lovely but also with Yoon Kye Sang performing medical procedures bleeding and shirtless. MMM.

15 (tie) Secret Royal Inspector - a fun if run of the mill sageuk.

15 Find Me In Your Memory - best melo this year.

14 Mystic Pop Up Bar - surprisingly good even though I wasn’t planning to check it out.

13 Where Your Eyes Linger - came out of nowhere but was tender and hopeful and lovely.

12 Itaewon Class - Park Seo Joon hard carries a drama that is already excellent. Love it.

11 Psychopath Diary - Yoon Shi Yoon is such a treat in a hilarious, cynical, dark comedy.

10 Kairos - more like ouroboros.

9 Queen Love and War - in a year where sageuks are very rare, this was solid and surprisingly moving and shippy.

8 The King Eternal Monarch - people didn’t like it but I did. It’s no masterpiece and both the leads and the writers have better dramas, but it was a lovely romantic fairy tale for me.

7 Mr. Queen - sharp, hilarious, and some of my favorite actors.

6 Psycho But It’s OK - healing, sharp cinematography and even sharper chemistry.

5 Crash Landing on You - the last ep pissed me off so much this drama is dead to me but I loved it so much until then I can’t place it lower in good conscience.

4 Train - who knew I would go this hard for an OCN drama or that OCN would do romance so well? But this time-travel mystery romance is just incredible and I shipped the OTP and rooted for the characters and loved every last bit of it.

3 Run On - this is the drama Record of Youth wanted to be but failed. Smart and lived in, you feel like you are peeking at real people, but also even four episodes in, I am so invested in the main characters separately and together, and care for them so much, it’s a little frightening.

1 (tie) Tale of the Nine Tailed - my perfect fantasy romance. I liked it better than Goblin, yeah I said it.

1 Flower of Evil - all the tropes I love in one incredible package. I would rewatch episodes waiting for new ones trying to puzzle the story and to stay withdrawal but it works just as well on rewatch. Lee Jun Ki brings his trademark tortured intensity and for once, both his leading lady and his script back him up and are worthy of that. It’s perfect.

FAVORITE DRAMA

It’s a tie between Tale of the Nine Tailed and Flower of Evil but if I had to pick just one, FoE, because it had me seriously obsessed and guessing about the protagonist and gave me the narrative tropes I love so much and an OTP that statisfied all my hurt/comfort kinks and then some.

WORST DRAMA

Born Again - honestly, this is so bonkers it almost becomes good but alas...

FAVORITE MALE CHARACTER

Do Hyun Soo/Baek Hee Sung, Flower of Evil - he is so messed up, so on edge, so traumatized. Yet capable of so much warmth and caring even as he himself doesn’t realize his humanity. FoE is basically a story of a man pushed and punished by the world for his entire life who, because of one woman, finds a safe place and peace and slowly comes to life without realizing it, and watching his desperation to keep this small bit of normalcy is so heartbreaking and exciting all at once. Plus, you start the drama thinking he’s a psychopathic serial killer and end it (if you are me) thinking he must be protected at all costs and if anyone even looks at him wrong they must suffer, and that’s quite a change!

FAVORITE FEMALE CHARACTER

Nam Ji Ah, Tale of the Nine Tailed - she is so funny and tough and smart and loving and amazing that I will totally buy that a literal demi-god will do anything and everything for her and love her for literal eternity.

NEEDS TO BE MURDERED

Dad in Record of Youth - yes in a year with serial killers and supernatural demons, I picked a normal character from a mediocre drama. It’s his everyday awfulness to his family that hits so hard and I am sad he never got his comeuppance.

FAVORITE SHIP

Ji Ah x Yeon - a fearless reporter and an immortal demi-god who’s been hoping for his human beloved to reincarnate. A really rare set-up where the OTP is equally ride or die, so compatible and completely BAMF. I got why he waited for her for that long and then fell in love with her all over again. Perfection.

Runner up: Flower of Evil - he is so messed up he literally does not believe he is capable of love or empathy, but he falls in love with her anyway and so utterly she permeates his entire life. She is tough as nails and only believes what she sees and is the sole person who believes in him against the world. She loves him but he needs her. She needs him but he loves her. They are amazing.

FAVORITE SECONDARY OTP

Seo Dan x Gu Seung Jun, Crash Landing on You, North Korean x Conman were so good I shipped them harder than the main OTP and the end of that storyline pissed me off so much I dumped the drama and didn’t finish it for months (and it’s still dead to me.)

NOTP

Record of Youth - it started out and they didn’t have much chemistry but the dialogues were interesting and I thought the chemistry would grow. It didn’t and deteriorated, their dialogues became boring and relationship had zero development (about as much as the supposed female lead.) I think we were supposed to feel bad they broke up and they were going for a bittersweet open ending, instead I found myself happy about the break up of two incompatible, chemistry-less people and hoping for the love of God they never get back together.

FAVORITE SCENE

Yeon and the bridge of knives, Tale of the Nine Tailed - Yeon choosing to undergo the creeptastic bridge of knives for a chance to save Ji Ah, who at that point he is not aware is the reincarnation of his Joseon love because, as he says, he doesn’t care if she is or isn’t, it just would be more horrible to have her die than to undergo the horrific torture he is undergoing, and then the sequence with his catching her, her weeping over him and the fact that she is the original Joseon girl revealed and all the bandaging and his watching her sleep and all that loveliness, is everything for yours truly.

Runner up: Hyun Soo having that break-down at the cliff at the end of ep 15 of Flower of Evil as Ji Won desperately tries to convince him she is alive and he finally stumbles to her.

Runner runner up (it’s my list, I will do what I want): Do Won preparing to blow his brains out to give a chance to Seo Kyung to live in Train.

BIGGEST CRUSH

Seon-Gyeom, Run On. Yeah, I know. Im Siwan is tiny, delicate featured and has a runner’s build, none of which are things that normally appeal to me. But his character is so odd, so honest, so unflinching in pursuing what he thinks is right, so incapable of self-pity despite plenty of reasons for it, and so ridiculously attractive when he smiles, I don’t even care.

BEST SCENE STEALER CHARACTER

Kim Bum, TotNT - I started out being annoyed by him and ended up looking forward to his scenes and being distraught by his ending.

NEEDS A SEQUEL

Honestly, none. I was fine with all the endings. I wouldn’t mind seeing post-end life of Tale of the Nine Tailed characters or the OTP settling into their literal new world in Train, but I am good.

TROPE THAT NEEDS TO DIE

Time jump that solves all the problems off screen or alternatively years pass and everyone is frozen - something that kdramas need to learn and need to learn badly. See Record of Youth, Brahms and Start Up.

FAVORITE TROPE WE’VE SEEN A LOT OF

Men who are ride or die for their OTP - this was a great year for this - the male leads of four of my five dramas were beyond anything on that scale (only exception is Run On because it’s still too early to tell there.) Yes PLEASE.

BIGGEST DISAPPOINTMENT

This was a banner year for that what with Start Up, Do You Like Brahms, Record of Youth, and Private Lives all starting out well and nosediving off the cliff but winner is Crash Landing on You. I loved it so much for bulk of its run but the last episode pissed me off so much I deleted all my files and called it a day.

BIGGEST GOOD SURPRISE

Flower of Evil - I had no expectations of this drama and wasn’t even planning on watching it despite liking both the lead actors because yet another “look at evil serial killer be evil” drama with no romance was not my thing. Luckily someone convinced me there might be some romance and I peeked curiously. Honestly, their promo campaign was the most misleading and dumbest thing ever.

Runner up Psycho but it’s OK - I have never liked Kim Soo Hyun in anything before and the drama premise seemed WTF but it was shockingly good and KSH totally blew me away.

Hardest Working Lead

Yoon Shi Yoon - he starred in two (!!!) dramas in 2020 playing three characters and not only were both these dramas awesome in a lackluster year, but if it wasn’t for the fact that I knew it was the same actor and the fact that the characters shared a face, I would have never believed that they were played by the same actor. So good!

2020 DRAMAS I HAVEN’T SEEN THAT I MOST WANT TO WATCH

None. Covid Year gave me PLENTY of time

BEST NON-2020 DRAMA I’VE WATCHED IN 2020

My Beautiful Bride and Deserving of the Name - I was obsessed with both of them and honestly, they were much better than the bulk of 2020 kdramas I watched.

MOST ANTICIPATED IN 2021

The Moon That Rises in the Day, Hong Chun Gi, Joseon Exorcist, Island,  Frightening Cohabitation, Snowdrop.