#10 without his ego problem and more open to vulnerability

[42strange]

Andrew Garfield with a weird southern accent from Doctor Who Dalek Takes Manhattan you’ll always be famous to me.

[s4ijoh]

meet me halfway (across the globe). suna rintarou

SUNA RINTAROU X GN! READER

GENRE: slice of life; facetime call; fluff

WORD COUNT: 1.4k+

WARNINGS: established relationship; mentions of stress

in which suna is somewhere far away…

[10:22] rin: “you up?”

[10:23] rin: “big game tomorrow morning.”

[10:23] rin: “cant’ sleep. need to see u.”

the phone buzzing on the bedside table startles you out of your morning somnolence. the empty spot in bed next to you feels a weird type of unfamiliar. you drowsily stretch your arms out, reaching for the ringing device while dragging out a loud yawn.

you are taken aback by surprise once you take a look at the numbers displayed on your phones lock screen: 10:25am. its already past midnight in his timezone. he shouldn’t be up this late.

swiping through your phone's screen, you waste no time in dialling his number once you come across the green facetime icon and luckily, it is only a brief moment until he is picking up and oh boy are you met with a sight to behold. if it werent for your concern, you could’ve just stayed there, marvelling in awe at your boyfriend, sitting shirtless against the headboard in all his glory. his pale skin is gleaming a beautiful shade of orange under the dim light of the table lamp thus reminiscing a statue made of gold; his tousled, black feathery hair sticking in all different directions yet with just a few loose strands cascading down the sides of his temple and framing his face in such way that made him look effortlessly handsome.

he looked as beautiful as ever. however, despite the apparent picture perfect scenario, you would be a fool not to notice the clear signs of restlessness showcased on his features nonetheless.

“sorry, did i wake you?” suna apologizes tenderly with a doting frown on his face once he notices your lids still heavy with vestiges of somnolence just barely peeking from the bottom of the screen. your phone is propped up on your chest, the lower half of your face hidden away from him as you refuse to get up from your comfortable position laying under the warm blankets.

“dont worry about it, baby.” you hurriedly push his apologies aside whilst rubbing the sleep off your eyes to try and not make him feel too bad about it “you know you can call me anytime. im always waiting for you on the other end whenever you need me”

he offers you a subtle smile, although its odd — its weak, not sincere. it is not the usual signature smirk with a teasing remark on the side you earn whenever you say something cheesy. it is also hard to miss the darkening spots growing under his tired eyes, his usual sparkly green orbs now nearing dull, heavy with underlying frustration. it made it all crystal clear.

rintarou is not an outwardly emotional person and definitely not one to voice his concerns. his pleas for help were often left unspoken and it takes a sharp eye to see through his unwavering surface. for the most part, the blank expression he's seen wearing most of the time did a pretty good job at shielding his feelings yet his eyes often betrayed him.

he had taken off a couple days ago to somewhere foreign for an important match. you know how sometimes, before a decisive match takes place, he lets pressure get to that pretty head of his and relies on you to keep him grounded and soothe his racing mind. for the longest time, he had been capable of keeping his emotions at bay and deal with his troubles on his own but ever since you came around, rintarou found himself growing selfish and craving your comfort, finding solace in your reassuring words and warm embrace.

you miss the old days when your lover was just at an arm's length and all it took was for him to say the word for you to drop everything and come running to his house, to hold him in your arms and make it all feel better. you remember people in highschool claiming suna was bound to fade into the background given his lazy tendencies and lack of enthusiasm. (what a waste of potential, they would say) suna would shrug. he never payed any mind to it — you praised him on his unshakable nature. it should be a major ego boost for rintarou to know that, not that many years later and against the spiteful tongues of some of your classmates, he made a name for himself as a first division professional volleyball player, thus proving them wrong.

however, he still has quite a few demons to tame inside his head. one of which was self-doubt.

you let your eyes roam his tired features for a moment. “you need to get out of your head, rin”

suna knew you could read him like an open book. you made him feel vulnerable under your scrutinizing gaze. he felt exposed. to have you stare directly into his naked soul was intimidating, more so than to have you stare at his nude body, like you have done dozens of times before. but just like you did with his body, you had taken your time to get to know every corner of his soul. you knew him like the palm of your hand — both mind and body.

“i know.” he tears his gaze away from yours, looking down while running a hand through his disheveled hair and down to scratch his neck in frustration. “tell me how have your days been?”

the silence of his hotel room was eating him whole and he needed you to distract him. most of the time, suna was fond of the silence. after a rough day he found comfort in laying down in his bed and basking in the quiet. he found peace in it. sometimes it was in the quietness of his own little world that he found the solution to his problems. but upon your arrival to that mysterious world of his, your voice soon became his favorite sound. he craved you to fill in the silence that he once treasured.

and so he listens. suna listens as you talk throughout the night (who would’ve guessed you had just woken up), rambling on about your days as other trivial things — namely how you could never get used to starting the day without his morning cuddles. he found it endearing how you seemed to speak enough for the two of you. he was a man of few words so he was lucky to have found someone to fill in the silence for him. and so he listens until his eyes start progressively feeling heavy, your voice lulling him to sleep.

“hey, baby” he calls in a barely audible raspy voice. suna lays down on his side under the cold unwelcoming bed sheets, holding his phone next to his face on the pillow “put your pretty face on the phone”

a soft smile crawls its way up to your flushed face at his sugar coated words, his voice although drowsy sounding sweeter than saccharin. you were so lost in the lovely image of him that you failed to notice that your face was barely on the frame, just your eyes peeking shyly from the bottom of the screen.

you shuffle in bed, turning on your side to mirror his position. its almost as if you’re not a hundred miles apart and he's lying right next to you, if you squint hard enough.

“there you are” he mumbles weakly under his breath, a loving smile on his pillowy rosy lips that you miss dearly.

his eyes appear weary through the screen yet he never fails to look at you with the utmost love. dumbfounded, you wordlessly stare at each other as you fall into a comfortable silence that is however, filled with a hundred unspoken words.

his love is quiet, hesitant at times but never shallow. he felt deeply and feared he wasn't the best to put it into words so sometimes, his love, it hides beyond lingering stares and shy touches. it remained unuttered most of the time but words are futile when he has shown his devotion to you countless times before.

“hey rin. you think you can go to sleep, now?” you notice him fighting the urge to let his eyes close shut, battling to stay awake for a little longer to try and memorize your face for later so he can dream of you tonight.

he simply nods with his eyes shut, too sleepy to pronounce a single word.

“call me tomorrow after the game, alright?” he nods yet again, noticeably starting to drift away at last but not before muttering a quiet i love you before the last hint of consciousness leaves his body, eliciting a tender smile from you.

“i love you, rin. ill meet you in your dreams tonight.”

[a/n]: so! writing this fic made me realize that im undeniably in love with suna and he now owns a 51% share of my heart. (oikawa. ill never forget you. its not you its me (suna) maybe its time i move on. 🤒 jk jk ill have both pls and ty 🥰)

anyways ye i guess im back from my mini hiatus (as a full suna whore) :))

this is honestly a word dump, initially this was supposed to be like... what.. 500 words long? i just thought of the prompt “put your pretty face on the phone” and the rest is just me pouring my love for him into words ah-ha. (you probably noticed how it is unnecessarily cheesy 🙄)

just for the record!! i havent finished season 4 just yet 🐸 lmao. i took inspiration off of nooras (@/inarzki) characterization of suna because she was the one who made me fall in love with him in the first place.

[restlessfandoming]

“the president and the troublemaker” (part 11) (chilumi fic)

“Lumine is the student council president and Childe is the school’s number one troublemaker. They cross paths more than they’d like. Especially when Childe finds out Lumine’s big secret. Highschool AU à la Kaichou wa Maid-sama.”

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8] [part 9] [part 10]

[Fic Masterlist] // [AO3 Link] // [Main AO3]

my brain is struggling to produce serotonin :) 

* * *

the president and the troublemaker (part 11)

Lumine felt like a mountain had been lifted off her shoulders the second she saw the large charter buses pull up to the school. The class trip to Liyue was moments from starting.

Amber let out a huge yawn next to her. “Finally, the hard part is over,” she said. “Time to relax.”

Noelle handed each of the girls a paper coffee cup. “I hear Liyue is a beautiful city.” 

Lumine took a grateful sip of her drink, the early morning air crisp in her senses. It was tranquil: the low purr of the vehicles with the muted murmur of the students loading into the buses was almost pleasant enough to put her back to sleep. 

It had been a stressful (sleepless) few nights leading up to today. Lumine was thankful the bus ride was long enough for her to catch up on some much needed rest. 

“LuLu~!” 

Lumine started to turn around. “Hello, Venti—”

Immediately, the bard hugged her with a giggle. “So, where are we sitting?” 

She peeled him off with a raised brow. “You can sit anywhere you want. I’ve got to sit near the front.” 

A cheeky grin. “Then I shall sit at the front as well!” He pulled his ukulele out. “Let’s write a song together!” 

Lumine found herself smiling at Venti. His cheerful disposition definitely put her more at ease, his joy contagious. “Okay, sure,” she agreed. 

“Will Aether be joining us?” Venti asked. 

Lumine shook her head. “All the council members have their own bus to help supervise. He’s with Mr. Zhongli.” She pointed at a few buses over, where Aether waved back at them. 

Venti had gone home with her one day, playing catch up with both her and her brother. Initially, Lumine had been very wary of Venti. But as they recalled old memories together late into the night, she warmed up to him, now remembering their long forgotten bond (though she was still getting used to his...clinginess. And of course the fact he kept reiterating how much he loved her.).

He reminded her of happier times, times when the stress of the world hadn’t been placed on her just yet, and all they had to worry about was what game to play next. 

“LuLu, come on!” Venti said, pulling her onto the bus. He started settling into the seat next to Lumine as the rest of the bus filled up. Lumine settled her belongings as well, in addition to checking off her list of students on the bus, ensuring no student was left behind. 

Just as her finger traced over Childe’s name, there was a loud commotion coming up the stairs. 

“Let go of me, please!” Bennett’s voice. “What did I do wrong?” 

Childe sauntered onto the bus, hand gripping Bennett’s collar and dragging the poor council reporter down the aisle.

Lumine immediately stepped into the aisle, face furrowed. “What the hell are you doing, Childe?” She pried Childe’s hands off Bennett. 

“Making friends,” the tall ginger replied.

Bennett stopped rubbing at his neck, and looked up at Childe, eyes glistening. “Wait, really?” 

“Bennett, go back to your bus,” Lumine ordered. After her reporter dashed off the bus, she turned back to Childe, waiting for an answer. 

He shrugged. “I told you, I was making friends.” A tilt of the head, eyes flickering to Venti. “Too long of a bus ride to spend alone.” 

Lumine glared at him. “Just go find a seat, Childe. You’re one of the last students to arrive.” 

Childe’s eyes lingered on her for a second, before turning around, and making his way to the back of the bus. Lumine only sat back down when she saw him disappear into the seats. She let out a loud sigh. 

“Wow,” Venti said. “He certainly keeps your hands full.”

Lumine gave a strained laugh. “You don’t know the half of it.” She closed her eyes, leaning into her chair and relaxing—

BAM!

Shouts erupted from the back of the bus. 

The muscles in Lumine’s jaw clenched as she slowly opened her eyes and stood up, attention zeroing in on noise. And just as she thought, Childe stood in the aisle, his hands balled into fists, towering over a student on the ground. When he noticed her looking, he smiled. 

Marching to the back, she ignored Childe as she helped the student on the ground, blood seeping through his fingers as he cradled his nose, groaning in pain. 

“Oh my!” a different student exclaimed behind her. Lumine recognized her as Barbara, leader of the music club and occasional volunteer at the nurse’s office. Thank god. 

“Can you help take care of him?” Lumine asked quickly. 

Barbara nodded, gently helping Lumine carry the student to a nearby seat. 

Lumine turned and glared at Childe. “Making friends again?” 

He shrugged, still smiling, and wiped the blood off his knuckles. 

Lumine groaned, rubbing her forehead. “Just...You’re going to sit at the front. With me. So I can make sure you don’t cause anymore trouble.” She shuffled to the front of the bus, Childe in tow behind her. 

“So, what was going on…,” Venti started, sentence trailing off as his gaze landed on Childe. A twitch of a smile. “Aha, him again?”

“Yes,” Lumine said with a sigh. “I’m sorry, Venti; we’ll have to sit together on the way back or something. I’ve got to keep an eye on him.” 

Her friend gave a small smile, a nod of understanding, before scooting out of the seat. As his arm brushed past Childe’s, he stopped and looked at the tall troublemaker, opening his mouth to say something, then closed it. 

“See you later, LuLu,” Venti ended up saying, a sadden edge to his voice. He made his way to the back where Childe’s original seat was. Part of Lumine panged at seeing her friend upset. 

“Well, LuLu?” Childe said, already sitting near the window, legs crossed, head resting on his hands. “Are you going to sit down?”

“So sorry I’m late, dearies!” their faculty chaperone, Lisa—the school’s librarian—said as she walked onto the bus. She smiled at Lumine. “Ah, President Lumine! I trust you’ve accounted for all the students on our bus?”

“Yes, Ms. Lisa,” Lumine responded. “We’re good to go whenever.” 

Lisa nodded, leaning over to tell the bus driver, then plopping herself in the very first row, a few rows ahead of Lumine’s seat. The front of the bus was nearly vacant, with only Lumine, Childe, and Lisa sitting there; the rest of the students congregated towards the middle and back.

The doors to the bus hissed closed, and Lumine finally sat down, facing forward, head turned very obviously away from Childe. 

“Aw, are you mad at me, LuLu?” Childe asked. 

“Don’t call me that.” 

“Oh, but Venti can?” 

“Why did you hit that student?” Lumine crossed her arms as the bus jolted forward. “You were doing good for so long.” 

“So you only like me when I behave?”

“You are acting up way more than usual today. Is someone a little cranky?” Lumine mocked. 

“You look like the cranky one,” Childe said, swiping at the bags under her eyes. 

Lumine pushed his hand away. “I told you. It’s been a busy, stressful time for the council.”

“Well the trip is finally happening, so you can relax now,” he said. “Take a nap, we’ve got a long drive ahead, don’t we?”

Lumine slammed her eyes shut and turned her head away from Childe. “Yes, I was hoping for a quiet, pleasant bus ride to catch up on sleep, then someone decided to start a fight.”

“Had to, Pres. Couldn’t let the new kid sit next to you.” Then, his hand was on the side of her head, and he pulled her head to rest on his shoulder. “Sleep,” he whispered. “I promise I won’t cause any more trouble, okay?”

“What’s wrong with Venti?” Lumine said, heat creeping from Childe’s shoulder to her temple. She didn’t move, however, her body feeling heavier with exhaustion—and Childe made an alright pillow.

Childe gently smoothed out her hair from where his hand still resided. “He loves you.” 

“So do you,” Lumine grumbled, eyes fluttering closed. So tired...

“And that’s the problem, now isn’t it?” Childe muttered. “That makes him my rival.” 

“Don’t be stupid.” “Oh? And whose shoulder would you be sleeping on if I hadn’t gotten in trouble?”

So he’s...jealous? Lumine started to sit up. “You punched that kid just so you could sit next to me?”

Childe pulled her back. “You should sleep before you get sick. Remember how we first met?”

Lumine hummed out a response, eyelids feeling heavier than ever, adjusting her head on Childe’s shoulder without even thinking about it. 

As the sounds of the bus started to drown out of Lumine’s hearing, she felt Childe rest his head atop hers, his cheek pressed against the top of her head. His hand on her head thumbed circles in her hair, while he took his other hand and slipped his fingers through hers. It was a comforting, warm, caring touch—safe.

And she fell asleep in no time. 

* * *

Lumine groggily opened her eyes, moving to stretch her sore muscles. She tried stretching her arms upwards, but realized her fingers were still intertwined with Childe’s. She glanced over at him. 

He was asleep, head leaning against the window. It felt odd to see him like this—so still and quiet. His face was slightly furrowed, as if he was dreaming about something mildly unpleasant. 

His body did look quite uncomfortable, sleeping upright like that, and Lumine felt the cricks in her neck and back from sleeping similarly. It’s probably worse since he’s taller...

Lumine let out a huff of embarrassment as she moved his head to rest on her lap. He immediately adjusted a bit, then visibly relaxed.

Lumine couldn’t help but smile a bit, at him looking so...vulnerable. Usually he was so puffed up with his strength and ego; it was cute to see him sound asleep. 

Her hand moved to soothe out his hair. It was much softer than she had expected, like a cat or fox’s fur, and she found herself running her hand through his hair repeatedly. Each time, his face seemingly relaxed. 

It’s nice. This is...nice. 

The moment didn’t last too long, the bus halting to a stop shortly after. Glancing out the window, Lumine saw they had pulled into a city on the outskirts of Liyue for their lunch stop. 

As she heard the students on the bus starting to gather their things, moving to exit the bus, a small panic formed in Lumine’s gut. She still had Childe in her lap. 

She quickly lifted his head up, pushing him off of her, perhaps a little too forcefully. His limp body smacked against the window with a THUNK! 

Childe jolted awake as Lumine clasped a hand over her mouth, stifling a laugh. He squinted at her through bleary eyes while rubbing at the side of his head. 

“Did you just hit me?” he asked, confused.

“No. Yes. Sorry, it was an accident,” she answered, still trying to hold back her laughter.

He blinked at her, then reached over, pinching the sides of her face and pulled at her cheeks. “Is this you wanting to start a fight?” He laughed. “I’d be happy to oblige; we never did finish our fight at the beach, did we?” 

“I’d win for sure,” Lumine managed to get out as she tried prying his hands from her cheeks. 

Suddenly, a ukulele descended into her view. She looked up and saw Venti standing behind her, in the aisle, holding the ukulele between her and Childe. 

“LuLu, is this guy giving you trouble?” Venti asked, a fake smile plastered on his face. “I’d be happy to bash a few strings over his head if you want.” 

Childe let go of Lumine’s face, an equally fake smile spreading on his lips. “I’d like to see you try.” 

“Okay!” Lumine interjected, standing up abruptly, and joining Venti in the aisle. “Let’s go eat.” 

“Okay!” Venti echoed, the hostility disappearing from his voice. He took hold of Lumine’s hand, and pulled her towards the exit. “C’mon, LuLu; we’re the last ones off the bus!” 

Before they moved too far, however, Childe clamped a hand down on Lumine’s shoulder, halting them in place. 

“Now, now, Pres—don’t forget your responsibilities,” Childe said, his faux smile still in place. “You’ve got to keep an eye on me, remember? Otherwise, who knows what trouble I’ll stir up?” 

Ah, shit. Lumine bit the side of her cheek, thinking of another innocent student’s bloody nose. “He’s right, Venti,” she said. “I’ve got to keep an eye on him for now.” 

“Oh,” Venti uttered. His face stilled. 

There it is again, that expression…, Lumine thought. What was it? Sadness? Yearning?

Lumine lightly squeezed his hand. “Venti—?”

“Well, the more the merrier, right?” he suddenly exclaimed, his usual, bright demeanor returning. 

And just like when they were younger, Lumine felt the need to look after him. Something was bothering him, and she wanted to patch him up—patch him up like the countless skinned knees she treated for him in their childhood. He was always so optimistic, and it was painful to see him otherwise.  

“Yeah,” Lumine agreed softly. “Why don’t you pick where we eat, Venti?” 

The bard nodded, and started pulling her along again, this time his grip tighter than before. As they walked forward, Lumine felt Childe’s hand on her shoulder slip off, and she glanced back at him. 

He was still following her and Venti, though much further behind now, his hands in his pockets, his eyes cast out the windows. 

She remembered, he was jealous of Venti, though she still didn’t completely understand why. Venti was an old friend, and Childe was...entirely in his own category. 

And yet, somehow, stepping towards one of them left the other in pain. 

What am I going to do?

* * *

The city was bustling with life as students roamed around looking for different restaurants to eat at. They had a few hours break for lunch, and the students were free to walk around after eating until it was time to resume the journey to Liyue Harbor. 

Lumine had texted Aether asking where he was, and he (with the rest of the student council) were already eating elsewhere. So, Venti dragged Lumine and Childe far away until they found a small restaurant near an arcade. “So we can have some fun together after eating, LuLu!” he told her. 

Currently, the three of them sat at a circular table, the waitress setting down their food before them—an almond tofu for Venti, Jueyun chili chicken for Childe, and jade parcels for Lumine. 

“My first time trying Liyue cuisine…,” Venti said, taking in a breath of his food’s aroma. “Smells delicious!” 

The sugary sweet scent of his almond tofu wafted towards Lumine, and she smiled. “Even now, you still have a sweet tooth,” she noted.

Venti returned her smile. “Well, of course! Remember that grape juice you always made for me and Aether? Oh, and those apples your mom used to cut up for us! The ones that looked like little bunnies?” he reminisced as he started to eat his tofu.

Lumine snorted slightly, biting in her jade parcels as well. “I don’t know how we never got sick of that horrid grape juice. It was basically just sugar water.”

“You made it—so of course we had to drink it. It was special,” he replied. “Oh, I remember how cute you were, so diligent and hardworking as a kid. You’ve gotten even more cute over the years~!” 

Lumine’s cheeks warmed. “You’re still the same as ever, blowing off classes whenever you feel like it, just to go off and write songs. I remember when—”

Childe’s foot tapped hers.  

“Ah, sorry about that,” he said, his blue eyes gazing directly into Lumine’s. “Don’t mind me.”

Huh? 

She could only hold his gaze for a brief second, before she averted it, finding it too intense. She chose to look down at his food instead—his completely untouched food.

“Why aren’t you eating?” she asked. Was he on a diet for training?

The corner of his lips twitched, and he mustered a smile. “It seems like chopsticks are harder to use than anticipated.” 

…

“Pffft—” Lumine couldn’t stop herself from laughing. 

“Haha, yes, very funny,” Childe said, his voice bordering on sheepishness. “You seem to have no trouble with it.” 

“No trouble at all,” she said, finger wiping at the corners of her eyes. “Look.” 

She scooted closer to him, showing him how she held her chopsticks in her hand. He mimicked her as best he could, but the positioning of his fingers was still a bit off. 

“Here,” Lumine said, setting her own utensils down. She reached over, her hand over Childe’s, moving his fingers to the correct positioning. “Try to pick up some food.” 

She saw his eyes narrow on a piece of chicken, hand steadily moving towards it like a target, concentration straining his face. She almost burst out laughing again. He’s so serious about it…

He slowly picked up the chicken, hovering it in mid-air, face relaxing in triumph. “Look, Lumi, I got it!” 

She raised her eyebrows, a slight smile on her face. “Wow, yeah you—”

“Hey.” 

The two of them stopped and looked at Venti. His eyes were focused on Childe, his cheerfulness nowhere to be found. 

“Do you like Lumine?” he asked Childe. 

Oh no. Lumine opened her mouth, ready to switch to another subject. But then—

“Yes,” Childe answered, his smile gone as well. He set down his chopsticks. “What are you going to do about it?”

Lumine froze, her jaw still open. Disbelief. Disbelief was the only thing running through her mind as she watched Childe and Venti before her, speechless. 

A sharp laugh. “Well, looks like we’ve got ourselves a good old-fashioned love triangle,” Venti said. “You should know I fought really hard to get back here, to Lumine.”

“And you should know I never lose,” Childe retorted. 

Venti grinned. “There’s a first time for everything.” 

Lumine slammed her hand on the table, hand gripping her chopsticks furiously. “How about we all just be quiet and eat?” Were these two idiots starting to fight over her? 

Anger bubbled in her gut, at Childe for revealing more of their secret. She was also angry at Venti for provoking Childe even further. Not to mention the two seemed to ignore her completely as they quipped at each other.

It was also two people she cared about, now at ends with each other. There is no way this is going to end well...

Childe and Venti sent each other a final glare before returning to their lunch, the rest of the time in silence. As soon as everyone was finished and paid for, Lumine left. 

“Let’s get back to the bus,” she said, not wanting Venti and Childe around each other any longer. 

“Wait!” Venti grabbed her hand, pointing down the road. “We still have an hour; let’s go to that arcade! Please?” 

Lumine looked at her phone. What Venti said was true, and what were they going to do on the bus for an hour? 

“Fine,” she conceded with a sigh. 

“Does Childe have to come too?” Venti asked, eyeing the tall ginger as he walked beside them. 

“Yes, I do,” Childe answered loudly. “I’m under Lumine’s watch, remember?” 

“Is he really?” Venti asked.

“Yes,” Lumine said. “If I don’t keep an eye on him, he’ll throw hands with the first person he sees.”

“Hmph. Sounds like an untrained dog if you ask me.”

Childe scoffed. “You’re the one who’s like an incessant yapping chihuahua.”

Venti blew a raspberry at him as they entered the building. A headache was mounting in Lumine’s head. 

Upon entering, they were instructed to leave their belongings in a locker. After doing so, they entered the arcade where bright neon machines flashed and the electronic noises of games chimed. 

Venti gasped, and started running ahead, forcing Lumine and Childe to follow close behind. He led them to the back, where there was a small archery range set up. 

“LuLu! I actually learned archery while I was away in the countryside,” Venti said excitedly. “Let me show you my amazing skills!”

“Why don’t we make it a little competition?” Childe said, already stepping up to one of the bows, picking it up and turning it over in his hands. 

Venti tilted his head, his eyes gleaming. “Okay,” he agreed, stepping up as well. He was deep in thought as he picked up the other bow. 

Then, Venti smiled, a true Cheshire grin. “The winner gets to go on a date with Lumine.” 

…

Wait. 

WHAT?!

* * *

[part 12]

[horansqueen]

Stuck With You - Chapter 31

Chapter 31: Sweetest Pain

🡪chapter 1  🡪chapter 2  🡪chapter 3  🡪chapter 4  🡪chapter 5  🡪chapter 6  🡪chapter 7  🡪chapter 8  🡪chapter 9  🡪chapter 10  🡪chapter 11 🡪chapter 12 🡪chapter 13 🡪chapter 14 🡪chapter 15 🡪chapter 16 🡪chapter 17 🡪chapter 18 🡪chapter 19 🡪chapter 20 🡪chapter 21 🡪chapter 22 🡪chapter 23 🡪chapter 24 🡪chapter 25 🡪chapter 26 🡪chapter 27 🡪chapter 28 🡪chapter 29 🡪chapter 30

College Enemies To Lovers AU

characters // masterlist // instagrams // mood board

See, I told myself from the start of things You can't rule my heart, you can't pull my strings

But, I'm a fool for you, baby, a fool for your love I'm just a fool for you baby, got me all mixed up I'm just a fool for you, baby and nothing's gonna change And maybe it's my sweetest pain

click here to be on the update list

(check the characters page, i updated it with all the characters!)

DEVON

                                                Everything happened in slow motion. I stared at this girl I had seen on some instagram pictures, this girl I was so jealous of, this girl who made my whole insides twist with fear, and I swallowed hard. I even feel like I recognized her before Niall did but when her name came out of his lips, my heart dropped in my chest. Did he ever say my name that way? I closed my eyes and shook my head slightly. Yes, he had. In fact, he had said my names in many different ways, and most of them were imprinted with feelings.

"Oh my god Niall!"

She walked quickly to him and for some reason, I took a step on the side to give her all the space she needed to wrap her arms around his neck after getting on her tiptoes. He looked in shock and I breathed in deeply when I realized he wouldn't hug her back.

"What are you doing here?"

I could hear slight panic in his voice but when she got back down on her feet and sent him a big smile, it's discomfort I saw in his face.

"Oh I just got back here, you know, I decided I had to get a degree." she shrugged, tilting her head and sending him a smile.

"No more vlogs?"

She laughed and frowned, hitting his arm gently, and I became obsessed with the way she was touching him. It bothered me so much I had to swallow and grab the hem of my shirt tight, twisting the fabric with my fingers to make sure I wouldn't just walk up to her and push her away.

The few days Niall and I had spent alone in his apartment brought me happiness like nothing else before, except maybe when everything was going amazingly well between Henry and I. That's why I knew that having Abby in front of him could make Niall a bit confused about how he felt. Maybe he was happy with me, but he had been in love with that girl, and some things just never leave... some feelings can linger for years after it was over. I knew it, and it scared me to look at this perfect painting right in front of me. Niall and Abby were perfect models for a photoshoot in a magazine, and the way they seemed attracted physically to each other was heartbreaking. It made me wonder what people actually saw when I was walking around with Niall, but I knew it was nothing compared to the sight in front of me.

"Oh no I still have my channel!" she chuckled, reaching for his hand and squeezing it a bit.

I swallowed again and after a while, we ended up sitting in the living room. For some reason, I ended up next to Niall on the couch but Abby was sitting on the floor in front of him. I hated that sight and when she put her hands on his knees, I held my breath, staring at them. I wanted to get up and run away but I was frozen and finally looked up. I immediately met Louis' eyes and he shook his head before grabbing his phone and typing something on it. It took a second or two and my phone beeped, catching my attention but also Niall's, who turned his head slightly to look at me. He bent down to talk to me but Abby got up on her knees, her hands now on his thighs, bringing his attention back to her. I knew she was doing it on purpose but what really hurt me was the fact that it worked.

'You stay right where you are. Don't let her push you away. That's her thing.'

I looked up at Louis and he raised his eyebrows. I had so many questions and even if I felt like Niall had opened up a lot about his ex, It was now obvious to me that I didn't know much.

"I was thinking maybe you could sneak in my room some night this week?" I heard her say, making my heart jump so high in my throat I thought I was about to throw it up. "Like you used to."

"Are you fucking serious?"

The words had escaped my lips without thinking and my heart started thumping hard against my chest. Her eyebrows raised and her head turned to me but I held her gaze when her eyes met mine.

"Excuse me?"

"I said, are you fucking serious?" I repeated in a mean tone. "After breaking his heart you just come back and act like nothing's happened? Like you can just snap your fingers and get him back?"

I was mad, a bit tipsy, and sadder than I had been in a long time. I wanted Niall to be the one to push her away but he was just sitting there, acting like all this was normal, and it made me want to cry. I wondered what he would have told her if I hadn't said anything and at the same time, I was scared to find out.

"Why do you even care?" she asked rudely, sending me a frown. I held my breath and glanced at Niall, making her chuckle. "Oh, someone's got a crush."

"And someone's got a fucking big ego." I replied quickly, trying to hide the fact that her words had embarrassed me.

"Who the fuck are you anyway?"

I was not the only one pissed, now. Abby was staring at me like she wanted to jump of me and rip my face off. I wanted to answer her but the problem was, I had no idea who I was. I was not Niall's girlfriend, I had made sure about it. I was his friend, of course, but I was so much more than that, or at least I wanted to believe it. Telling her I was the girl he was shagging was also a bad idea because it didn't mean much, and it certainly didn't mean anything to her.

"No one, yea, that's what I thought." Abby added with a smug smile. "Mind your own fucking business."

I swallowed my pain but I knew I was tearing up despite myself and I quickly got up, grabbed my hoodie and left, closing the door roughly behind myself. It was a mix of everything that made me so emotional and I hated it.  I was tipsy, scared, sad and mad, probably mostly at myself. It was so pathetic it angered me more than I thought it would. What did I promise myself when I left my old college? I had promised myself not to be this vulnerable girl anymore, I had promised myself that I wouldn't let my guard down. But here I was, letting some stupid girl affect me because of a man I was having sex with. It was ridiculous and I let some angry tears fall down my cheeks without wiping them off.

I was far from campus and I quickly put my hoodie on before wrapping my arms around myself. Snow had melted but it was still quite cold outside, especially for a twenty minutes walk, and I shivered as I walked. My feet made noise on the cement, echoing on the deserted street and it made me realize how late it was,

I could have sworn I had heard my name but just shook my head and sighed. It was probably the alcohol or the wind, or so I thought, but when I heard it again, my heart skipped a beat. The sound of his shoes on the sidewalk made a lot more noise than mine : he was running. I didn't want to turn around because I didn't want him to see me cry but eventually, I felt his hand on my arm and my body immediately relaxed.

"Devie!" he let out again, making me stop walking. He was panting, I could hear him, and when I turned around, I noticed his thin lips parted and his chest moving as he tried to catch his breath. "I was yelling your name, didn't you hear?"

"What are you doing here, Niall?" I asked, ignoring his question. "Shouldn't you be up there,  planning a night with your ex girlfriend?"

"Oh stop that." he frowned, suddenly very annoyed.

"Stop what? You said you wouldn't give her a chance to break your heart again! Look at you now! She's back and you're stuck to her! Attracted like a magnet, like-like a lost puppy!"

"Seriously?" he replied a bit too loud. "I just fucking ran after you and you say those things to me?"

"Why are you letting her flirt with you when she broke you?" I argued again. "Why didn't you just tell her off?"

"And why would I do that, Devon?" My lips parted mostly at the fact that he called me by my whole first name. I couldn't remember the last time he actually did that. "I mean what are we, Devon? What the fuck are we? Two idiots who fuck?" he threw his arms up and scoffed, shaking his head. "Because I love you! I fucking love you and you fucking know it! But you're pushing me away, over and over again! And I'm so fucking tired of it!"

His confession made something stir inside my chest and I teared up again. He loved me. He fucking loved me, he said. I was speechless and I tried to swallow the lump in my throat.

"And this whole situation is starting to be dangerously similar to the relationship I had with Abby! Can't you see it?"

"Don't compare me to her!" I pointed out, taking a step closer as he laughed without amusement.

"But it's true okay!" he argued loud, passing his hand on his face. "You're with me but you're not with me! You know I love you but you don't want me to say it! You're keeping me around why? What for, Devon? As an entertainment?"

I felt nauseous suddenly and swallowed, trying not to throw up. "N-Niall.."

"That is what Abby did, okay?" I saw him tear up, his eyes watering and gleaming as the moon reflected on them. He was so pretty that it made my heart sink in my chest. "I love having sex with you, but you made sure we were not a couple! So you don't have the right to get pissed and tell me what I should and shouldn't do! You don't get to tell me what to do and how to feel when you can't even admit that you love me!"

I was so hurt at that point that I let tears freely fall on my cheeks. I was mad at him for throwing all these truths in my face, and also for what he was actually doing with his ex girlfriend, whether it was conscious or not, and I was mad at myself for letting all of this affect me.

"Fuck you." I let out calmly, pressing my lips together to stop myself from sobbing.

"Yea, I did that." he replied gently this time, passing his hand in his hair. "But that's not gonna happen again."

He turned around to leave as something hurt so much in my stomach that it felt like someone had literally hit me so hard that I couldn't breathe anymore.

"Look, I'll just... I'll give you a ride home okay?"

"No." I replied, turning around before I continued walking.

"Devie, I don't think it's safe that you just walk alone so late." he explained, genuinely concerned. "I'll send you Louis, okay?"

I stopped walking and heard the short conversation he had with Louis. It took about ten minutes of awkward silence before Louis arrived and it felt like an hour. I saw them shake hands and hug before Louis whispered something to Niall. When he finally left, I turned around and started sobbing, feeling Louis' arms wrap around me, pulling me into a tight hug.

"It's gonna be alright." he whispered in my hair as I gripped the back of his shirt like my life depending on it. "I promise."

I didn't answer. I just let him hold me tight against him until I was too tired and we finally walked back to our rooms. When I opened mine, it was dark and I sniffed, turning around to send a sad smile to my best friend.

"Thanks, Louis."

"Hey, do you want to sleep in my room?"

"No, thanks." I shook my head a bit. "I need to be alone."

"Alright, but I'm only a few steps away, if you need me."

I took off my shoes as soon as the door closed behind me and did the same with my clothes. I stared at my bed, realizing I hadn't slept in it in a long time. In  the past few days, I had slept in Niall's bed with him, and I knew I was going to miss that. I grabbed his shirt that was on hos bed and hesitated but finally put it on before slithering between the sheets of my bed. I stared at the ceiling and swallowed hard again, trying not to cry more. It was exhausting to cry and I had cried way too much because of my last relationship.

I couldn't help but wonder what Niall was doing, and if he was with her. I was so jealous I wanted to scream but I was too tired to do anything. I finally let warm tears fall down my neck, leaving them to die on my pillow. He was probably with her, whispering her name the way he whispered mine when we had sex, and I gripped my blanket hard with both hands until my knuckles turned white. Despite being exhausted, I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep at all, but about an hour and a half later, the door opened and closed. I made sure I remained motionless and he threw his keys on the desk, stopping by my bed and standing close to me for a few minutes. He finally moved away and took his clothes off, getting in his bed. My heart was beating fast and as it slowly got back to normal, I realized how relieved I felt that he didn't spent the night with her. I didn't know what had happened when he got back at Lewis' or what happened in those hours we were apart, but at least he was there and it was enough for now.

--

However, when I woke up, Niall was already gone. I sat up in bed and rubbed my eyes before that aching pain came back. I had lost him and he was probably going to go back to his ex girlfriend now. I closed my eyes and tried to breathe in and out slowly for a while before getting up and getting dressed. I kept glancing at the hoodie he had left on his bed and I licked my lips before grabbing it. I just couldn't resist and put it on without remorse. I grabbed my book and walked out, knowing I was a bit early for my classes, which was seriously a first.

"Hey! Devon right?"

I blinked a few times and frowned, putting my hand over my eyes to hide the morning sun. I saw Mandy who was sending me a big smile and took a step closer. She was gorgeous, even so early in the day, and I sent her a smile back.

"Hey, how are you?"

"Good! And you? How are things with Niall?" she asked, genuinely curious. "He's not with you?"

"Mm, no, he's probably with.. Abby."

I had no idea if he was, in fact, with Abby. It was just a wild guess but somehow, I preferred to expect the worst so the truth didn't just blow up in my face. Perhaps it was a bad habit but I couldn't help it.

"Oh god, she's back now." she let out with a hint of bitterness. "You know she used to be my friend?" My eyes opened wider in surprise and I shook my head. "Niall didn't tell you? Yea we used to be very close but, it's hard to keep up with Abby, and if she gets tired of you just just gets rid of you. She's not doing it on purpose, she just wants things so bad she doesn't know when to stop."

"People too."

Mandy's eyes roamed on me and she nodded. "Yea, people too. Like when she wanted Niall's best friend. She didn't give up until she had him. I have no idea why she dated Niall afterwards. Probably because at some point, I told her he was cute. She couldn't risk it."

The more I learned about Abby, the worst it got. I was scared of her now, scared of what she would do and scared of how she would do it.

"She's not a bad person!" Mandy quickly added. "She's got her fair share of good qualities. She juts has history with Niall, so you may want to do something about it."

"There's nothing to do." I shrugged, feeling my heart shatter again in my chest. "I'm not gonna beg him to choose me."

Mandy frowned and took a step closer, hiding the sun. I could clearly see her face and she seemed confused and worried all at the same time. It was a miracle that Niall hadn't fallen in love with someone like her... a miracle for me. I wouldn't stand a chance against her.

"You don't want to fight for him?"

"Why should I have to fight for someone who's going back to the girl who broke his heart?" i argued, not even sure of what I was saying.

"Maybe you should fight for what you two have instead. Fight to save that relationship, whatever it is. Fight because you want it, and because you love him. he fought for you, didn't he?"

I blinked a few times, staring at the pretty girl in front of me, and finally nodded. "He did."

"Then fight for this. Not for his love, no. But for your love." she added with a fond smile. "He's worth it, don't you think? That relationship is worth it."

I frowned a bit and tilted my head. There was something in her voice, like an hint of nostalgia I didn't understand.

"Do you love him?" I finally asked curiously, unsure if she was actually going to tell me the truth.

"No." she chuckled, shaking her head and sending me a bit smile. "But I could have, perhaps."

I smiled back and we stared at each other for a few seconds before she breathed in and sighed. "And if it doesn't work, let me know. My brother thinks you're cute."

This time, I let out a louder laugh. "Yea, right."

"It's true!" she argued, her lips curling on the left. "People around you don't see you the way you see yourself because from what I can tell, you really don't think highly about who you are, and you should."

I had no idea what to answer to that and my heart jumped in my chest when I heard my phone. Mandy sent me a smile and waved gently at me as a goodbye before turning around and leaving. I sighed again and grabbed my phone, quickly checking my messages but I swallowed hard when I realized it was Louis. In that two seconds of not knowing, I had wished it was Niall messaging me and it told me just how fucked I actually was.

I checked the time on my phone and just decided to skip class as I felt the need to paint. I was inspired and if I didn't do it now, I was scared I would lose inspiration. I typed short answer to my best friend, proposing him to meet for lunch, when my phone beeped again. I knew it was not Niall but I wanted it to be. The name that appeared on my phone, however, made my jaw drop.

'Dev, it's Cammy, can we talk?'

[philliamwrites]

Ocean Eyes, Golden Mind

Fandom: All For The Game (Nora Sakavic)

Pairing: Neil/Andrew

Tags: #math nerd neil, #neil with glasses, #no exy

Summary: In which Neil hates his new prescribed glasses until they attract the interest of a certain Andrew Minyard.

Commissioner: Ziegenkind

Notes: Title taken from Billie Eilish’s ‘Ocean Eyes.’

Ocean Eyes, Golden Mind

Dude, it’s just a frat party. Who doesn’t go to frat parties?

     The message flashes Neil’s screen white, its sender none other than his roommate Nicky who is supposed to study for an upcoming test in Public Policy in exactly nineteen hours. That’s what Neil writes him. Nicky’s reply comes instantly.

Those who study tend not to party. You know. Like you.

     Neil leaves him on read. If he wants to party, he’ll lock himself inside his room, two bottles of Jack Daniel’s by his side while watching every existing compilation of cats attacking people on the small screen of his phone. He knows how to have a good time, alright. Not everyone has to set their scale like Nicky: More than once Neil has been the spectator of him coming back to the dormitory completely wasted, but still eager enough to get frozen waffles from the fridge. Being too drunk to put them in the toaster, he usually just climbs up to his top bunk and puts them between his thighs to eat them partially defrosted. It’s this fragile line between genius and stupidity that has Neil doubting if he should fill in a request for changing roommates or just live with the fact that Nicky Hemmick is one special kind of man.

    So instead of spending his night curled into himself, wall against his back and eyes on every stranger distributing awful shots, Neil sits at the Math Tutoring Centre on the west side of the campus and gives group tutoring sessions.

    Math comes to Neil like breathing. Like Bertrand Russel said, not only does Mathematics possess truth, but supreme beauty—a beauty cold and austere, like that of a sculpture. It is sublimely pure, and capable of a stern perfection such as only the greatest art can show. It is poetry—elegant and deep—of logical ideas to create harmony in a written line. Once he tried to explain that to Nicky over microwaved Mac n Cheese with Girls running in the background, clearly overestimating him, because Nicky only stared into space for a few seconds, and replied, “You really need to get laid, man.”

    Reluctant at the beginning, Neil only agreed to join the Tutor Program because his math professor promised to throw in some extra cash. Something about raising the graduate numbers in order to get the board of education off his back. That’s where Neil’s jurisdiction of interest ends, but he has enjoyed it more than expected—the empty hallways, the harsh light of the ceiling lamps, the smell of chalk, the faint echoes of students still lingering in classrooms. There’s this magic about the Palmetto State University at night—a vulnerability that can only live once the sun sets behind the horizon. When else would he find a kid sleeping under a table in the library, or seniors breaking down in tears for exact 10 minutes before continuing their studies as if nothing has happened.

    There’s another reason he’d rather spend his evening on campus, one Nicky doesn’t need to know because then Neil won’t hear the end of it. That reason being 5’0’’ tall chemistry prodigy Andrew Minyard, sitting in the last row of Neil’s math sessions each Friday. He only knows about him thanks to Nicky’s never-ending complaints, but that never really stopped him from throwing a few or more glances in Andrew’s direction. Just curiosity, of course.

    So when he stands in front of the blackboard now, putting away his lesson papers which are full of numbers and equations—the kind that has enough letters to look like sentences—he feels dozens eyes burn holes in the back of his neck, and one pair belongs to Andrew. No one asks why he’s here, but everyone knows he doesn’t need to be.

    In his one year of giving tutoring sessions, Neil has learnt that exactly three types of students exist: Students who are really good, certainly not in need of the extra lessons, but going anyway for some extra ego-buff and unnecessary brain-flexing. The second type is students who are okay, doing their tasks, following the lesson, not really attracting any attention safe for some crude jokes. The last type has Neil questioning his belief in the educational system of the whole state because he doesn’t understand how they are allowed inside the sacred halls of PSU.

    Andrew is a special type on his own—the enigma that keeps Neil awake at two in the morning because he’s desperate to solve it, but without knowing where to start, he’s just running in circles. His fingers itch to solve an equation with multiple variables, to find the solution to a problem and get it off his mind.

    He doubts it will be this easy with Andrew.

    “Before we continue to look at scalar products in R- and C-vector spaces, we’ll consider bilinear and semi-bilinear forms in general, and link them to matrices for their representation to chosen bases.” Neil’s hand flies across the board, leaving letters and parenthesizes that look like bizarre drawings—art in its most complex form. Once he’s finished, he takes a step away, wipes the chalk on his fingers off on his jeans, and turns to his audience. “What happens to this equation with the semi-bilinear form σ?”

    Two hands shoot up immediately. He ignores them; no need to feed their ego, and instead picks a freshman who’s been staring at his phone for the last ten minutes. Making way, Neil moves back to the student’s seats and leans against a desk.

    Is it the farthest place away from the board? It is.

    Is it the closest that will get him to Andrew? Might be so.

    It certainly gives him a good look at what Andrew’s been doing since Neil started—and that is not solving a single task on the paper Neil has handed out at the beginning of the session. Andrew, apparently bored before it even started, has taken out a slip of paper with a sudoku puzzle on it and is solving it against his leg, completely linked out of the instruction.

    Neil tries not to stare too much at Andrew’s bare arms, and instead looks back at the board.

    “Does that look right?” the freshman—Rhys or Rheeze or something like that—asks, turning around.

    Neil narrows his eyes and squints at the board. He can’t make out a single thing, and that’s bad, yes, but his feet betray him, staying rooted where they are instead of reducing the distance until he can distinguish σ from a.

    “Where does the l come from,” he asks. Multiple heads snap in his direction.

    “That’s a j, Josten,” someone says from the other side of the room.

    Neil squints harder. “And the u?”

    “A μ.”

    “No, it’s a v,” a girl next to Neil says, and that’s when the everyone starts shouting about what’s on the board and what isn’t.

    Neil bears it for a solid minute before he surrenders. He pulls a small case from his pocket, opens it. Puts his glasses on.

    The whole room goes silent.

    Neil checks the equation, nods. “Correct. Who’s next?”

    Multiple people stir, one manages to get up, and walks straight into a table leg. Neil questions that ‘straight’, because only then the freshman guy stops staring at Neil and steers his attention to the equation on the blackboard.

    It was a bad idea, and Neil still hates Allison for forcing him to go. She’d dragged him to the doctor last week to get his eyes tested, annoyed by his never-ending questions of ‘What’s written there?’ or ‘Is that a six or an eight?’.

    “They’re my eyes,” Neil had said, arms crossed as he sat in the office and waited for his turn.

    “And it’s me who has to see your ugly squinting face,” Allison had replied.

    Two hours later Neil had finally his prescriptions but that didn’t mean he was free from Allison’s clutches. He would have been fine with some glasses from the dollar store, but she insisted that if he’s going to wear them more than once a day, he should get designer glasses—thin frames and a color that matches his copper hair. She suggested gold. Neil picked black. The look of disappointment on Allison’s face was something that deserved its own painting to commemorate it. But once they’d finally chosen the right pair, she’d given him the very same look most of the students are giving him now—a mix between slight awe and disbelief as if he’s grown a second head. Or owes them all a month’s worth of lunch money.

    “Well,” had Allison said at least, turning away to pack up and go home. “Tigers have their stripes. I have my eyeliner.” She threw him another scrutinizing look over her shoulder. “You have your glasses.” If it was supposed to make him feel better, it didn’t work, and right now he regrets nothing more than allowing Allison to drag him around.

    Neil’s eyes land on Andrew’s sudoku puzzle, now half-hidden under his papers, and he sees now that he isn’t even solving the thing, but simply coloring in the empty squares.

    He takes a second too long and meets Andrew’s eyes staring back at him.

    “Problem, Josten?” Andrew asks with a blank expression, tapping the end of his pen against his monochrome picture of black and white squares.

    Neil wants to see how far he can push until he walks against a brick wall and breaks something. He returns his gaze to the board but feels Andrew’s eyes like a solid touch on the back of his neck.

    After the session, the students hurry outside, still throwing curious glances over their shoulders at Neil and if he could merge with the back of his chair and disappear forever, that would be totally okay. It isn’t until a shadow looms above him that he looks up from his own homework and draws in a careful breath when Andrew towers above him.

    Neil raises an eyebrow. “Problem, Minyard?”

    Andrew’s face gives nothing away, and when he stretches out a hand, Neil doesn’t flinch. His glasses slip off easily, held between Andrew’s thumb and index finger.

    “Nicky told me he’s trying to convince you to join him tomorrow,” Andrew says. Neil needs a second, because that is the most words he’s heard out of Andrew’s mouth.

    “I have no reason to go,” Neil says, his eyes jumping up and down, from the equation that makes his sight blur to Andrew leaning his slender waist against the table.

    “You have one now.” It’s barely neutral enough to not sound like a threat, but Neil stares at Andrew nonetheless, and when he puts Neil’s glasses on, Neil’s heart does a weird stutter. He’s still starring at Andrew when he leaves the room, and no, his eyes don’t stray, they stay on Andrew’s broad back, and if they dip lower it’s because of the light.

    Once he’s alone, Neil takes a deep breath, exhales slowly. Puts his head in his arms and counts to ten in French first, then again in German. His heart still does this weird thing, trying to bruise his ribs from the inside.

    He gets his phone, texts Nicky he’ll go to the frat party tomorrow and puts it away, not interested in his roommate’s reply. There’s still the equation he needs to solve, but for the first time Neil’s heart isn’t really into math, and he is quite alright with it.

[anakinisvaderisanakin]

Tony Stark Is An Emotional Man - My Unpopular(?) Take

So, I’m rewatching the MCU - because of course I am - and I just realized something watching The Avengers for the first time in probably 10 years.

While everyone believes Tony is a prick - and don’t get me wrong, he is 60% attitude in a small package - until he saves the damn planet; the statement he gives to Banner about the Hulk saving him is very heartfelt. He opens up about his own condition with the shrapnel, which is a rare moment of him being openly vulnerable - especially in the earlier phase of the MCU. He is being genuine, and he is trying to make Banner see the positives and understand that perhaps, the situation isn’t as bleak as he’s been thinking.

Tony is trying to provide help, to comfort Banner; not for his own gain but because he recognizes himself in Banner, in spite of their very different ways of handling their inner demons, and their wildly differing personalities. Because he knows what it’s like to lose your way and your self worth, and he wants to see Banner regain some sense of himself the same way he has.

It’s nice to see the kind side to Tony, and for him to expose it willingly to help a fellow team mate - and eventually friend - accept himself and his inner struggle. Tony does not get credit enough for the fact that he always did have that side to him, he just didn’t know how to show it. Even his jokes and snarky sarcasm get less “mean spirited” as he evolves, and grows as a person.

I feel like Iron Man 2 coupled with The Avengers (and of course Iron Man 3 added onto that) are a perfect portrayal of how Tony’s more outward sense of caring for people, despite his awkward sense of socializing, was already beginning to shine through the cracks.

To me, Tony Stark is by far the most compelling character because while I am not entirely like him, I recognize so much of myself and my own hardships. It’s never too late to reinvent yourself, and Tony is the perfect metaphor for that. He even directly likens himself to a phoenix in Iron Man 2, although played for laughs at the Stark Expo.

But not only that, later on in the movie when Steve insinuates that Tony is not a hero, that he would never sacrifice himself on behalf of another; that he fights for himself alone, and tells him he's basically nothing without the suit - you can see it's hurting him. Tony never really holds eye contact unless it's worth while; unless it's getting to him and requires his full attention coming from someone he truly trusts, unless it means something. You see him keep his eyes off of everybody in social situations before he knows them or they have earned his respect; you see him avoiding getting in neck deep, avoiding and brushing off comments on his distant persona.

But that insult right there; from the man his father would rave about, that's taking. You see the pain in his eyes, you see the fact that he's being torn open. You see that he's brought right back to who he once was, reliving the guilt of every mistake he ever made. All because of Steve's judgmental, misguided perception of him. Tony hides his true self; hides his suffering, and his internal grappling with his shame and guilt over every problem and death he's directly or indirectly caused. The fact that Steve Rogers - of all people, as the revered Captain America - cannot see through his surface disguise is really getting to him. I believe Tony had assumed Steve would be superhuman, and he's struck by the realization that Steve is no more human than he himself is. He has imperfections, and flaws, and jumps to conclusions.

And the fact that it is Steve, of all people, making these assumptions of him and taking these jabs at him makes it all the worse. You need only watch for Tony keeping eye contact throughout the verbal onslaught to know it's hitting home; and to know that Tony feels, Tony knows this is what people all initially think of him. He had just hoped that somebody as subjectively righteous and morally good as Steve would have the ability to see through the facade. The fact that he doesn't, and that he doesn't hold back on his opinion, is what hits the hardest.

Another point is when Fury informs the remaining team of Coulson's (faked) death. Tony doesn't look at anyone, he sits turned completely away from the conversation. You can see he's close to losing it, and if he were to speak, if he were to look up, were to make any sort of eye contact directly - he would crack. That's one thing I love about RDJ's portrayal of Tony; the fact that he is so terrified of showing his vulnerable side in front of others, even when he is grieving or blaming himself for any mishap. He feels like he has to be the strong one, like he has to keep it together. Not for himself as much as for everyone else - because if the unfeeling, arrogant Iron Man breaks, how are any of the other team mates going to make it?

If Tony of all people reveals he takes it harder than almost anyone else present, how are they going to see him as the same man? I love how it is only later in the MCU, that he exposes this side of himself more willingly and freely - like in Endgame where he mentions how he lost “the kid” while referring to Peter. He not only maintains eye contact with Steve as he admits that, he chokes up. This same theme is prevalent between them in Civil War when Tony asks Steve to lay down his guard and hand over Bucky, “because it’s us” - which is a testament to the fact that Tony has now accepted Steve as a friend and ally, and this betrayal of his hard earned trust is breaking his heart. But this early on, none of this has become a valid option to him yet. So he keeps it inside; refusing to show his true colours.

And in this moment, what does he do when it gets too much? When he's required to speak up, to acknowledge Fury's mention of The Avengers project? He ups and leaves. Because if he speaks; judging by the eyes alone (which is yet another credit to Robert) he's going to tear up. And hence, he walks out to get it under control, to reil himself back in. It’s a habit he throughout the franchise will begin to display less and less; as he learns to be more comfortable with the team as friends, as well as openly displaying his own emotions.

We see another side to this later when Steve approaches Tony alone one on one; and Tony initially attempts to make quips about how Coulson shouldn't have gone alone, how he was an outgunned idiot. Steve cuts straight to the core, and Tony snaps. You see him nearly tear up, you see how upset he truly is deep down and how he was only doing his best to play it off the only way he knows how. But as soon as he is spoken to, is forced to make an assessment, to actually talk about it; to look Steve in the eye and defend himself - that's the exposed vulnerability that is the real Tony Stark.

Behind the snarks, behind the facade, behind the charade of the arrogant, nonchalant prick he’s been trying to make the world see him for. He's as human as he could ever be; and I believe this is also the first time Steve notices that there is more to Tony than he had presumed. He too, had assumed Tony is too wrapped up in his own ego and lavish life resume to care for the smaller man. But here, he sees that Tony feels, Tony sympathizes, and Tony is deeply traumatized by the fact that he - as he feels - allowed this to happen. He sees that Tony believes this is on his conscious.

Tony's glassy eyes and emotional turmoil betray him, and even though he jumps right back to his intellect and brains as a safety net and a defense mechanism - addressing Loki's plan to hit them at home and split them apart - this is the first time Steve is exposed to Tony's determination, ability to assess and deduce the situation, as well as his belief in doing the right thing (another theme seen later in Age of Ultron regarding Tony’s creation of Ultron himself, as well as in Civil War where Tony is adamant that the Sokovia Accords are the right path to take to pay for the critical mistake Ultron turned out to be.) And as they assemble, you're struck with the realization that this has been enough of an eye opener for Steve to realize that there is more to Tony Stark than meets the eye.

And who is first to the tower, leading the charge if not Tony?

And despite his blind faith in his own skill and ability to stall Loki just long enough; there's the epitome of the courage Tony possesses. He knows that without the suit, he has no fighting chance. He knows Loki could snap his neck in the blink of an eye. And still, he never backs off. Indeed, there is an underlying death wish or at the very least a sense of him subconsciously feeling he deserves and is fated a grim deminse - but it does take unprecedented bravery to put yourself in such clear danger.

Tony Stark could be called many things; but a coward is not one of them. Sure, he does have the untested suit on hold, but he did not know 100% it was going to work as planned. He was counting on it, but you know a part of him knew it was a long shot and might not work out in the end. The suit could have been faulty, Loki could have cracked his head open; the cavalry could have been running late. Still, Tony gambles with his life and luckily barely comes out on top.

At last, we have the finale. What can be said about it, except the fact that it shows exactly who Tony truly is? He knows he's going to die - indeed he doesn't - but he is intent on that, he is accepting death and welcoming it. If it helps save the world, if it will keep Pepper and everyone he loves, everyone he knows; everyone alive safe.

Here, the decision from the first Iron Man to actually show us Tony's eyes and face behind the mask is a godsend. Seeing as RDJ is an actor who communicates so much of his emotional range with his eyes only; we are given an easy access to see everything Tony is experiencing flash through them. We see the fear, the pain, the uncertainty; the acceptance of the inevitable. We see his eyes convey the jumbled mass of conflicting emotions speeding through his mind, we see how he finally just relents and gives in to what he thinks is going to be his time of dying. His final moments.

And he has made them worthwhile, he has already achieved what Yinsen begged of him in that cave in Afghanistan - he has made his survival count. He has saved numerous lives, and if his death is what it takes - so be it. Cue the parallel to Endgame. Hell, even Age of Ultron has elements of this as previously mentioned; although that one was on Tony himself, and his irrevocable fear and flaws as a human being. However, here the team sees Tony's will to sacrifice himself firsthand, for the first time; and contrary to Steve's initial assessment that Tony would never put his life on the line for anyone but himself - he does just that.

This is what makes this movie so powerful.

Sure, it builds upon every team member’s arc; even Fury's. But it is Tony who proves himself above all; who shows the team what we the audience already knew. That he is a hero, that our past does not define us. That Tony Stark feels, that he knows right from wrong although he's still stumbling blind half the time - just like the rest of us. And it proves to Steve - to the entire team - that he is not merely the selfish, arrogant asshole only sticking up for himself. He is a man, albeit a flawed one, who cares deeply. Who feels, who mourns, who appreciates life and the people around him; and who is - behind the barrier he's placed between himself and everyone else to avoid getting hurt - extremely insecure. He is fearful, apprehensive, sensitive, and well aware of his shortcomings.

And Tony Stark is, first and foremost, a good man.

Repost from my previous blog.

[schnees-and-schnugs]

head empty baby schneebling ficlet ??? (just so yall know i had no idea what this was going to be about until i started typing so im gonna be surprised by what i write too). if it seems that winter has chronic ADHD brain in this fic its bc i have chronic ADHD brain and that’s just how i roll.

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  Winter tried to ignore the meowing as long as she could. After all, there was not a single feline creature to be found in the manor, so either she’s dreaming or hallucinating. Or maybe her ears are ringing from her father’s latest tantrum. 

  Being held hostage at the dinner table and forced to listen to his incessant barking voice ought to have caused me permanent brain damage. She smirked under her covers. Now if I can close my eyes and go back to sleep-

  “MEEEEROOOWOOW”

  What the fuck is that?

  Winter knew she ought to get up but she really did not want to. Her thighs ached from horse riding lessons earlier in the day. Her head ached from her business studies her father forced down her throat. Her soul ached from the pain of existence. She was beginning to think she was being punished for some transgression- if being unbelievably charming and sexy deserved- actually, I don’t think I’m going to finish that train of thought. 

  Winter could only tolerate her own sense of humor in small doses, but giver her situation- her entire life up to this point- she didn’t think having an unbecoming jocularity was high up on her list of Current Problems and Tragedies. In fact, it’s quite low given that her father makes up the better part of the first half. 

  She rolled onto her side, one ear muffled by her pillow, and the other under the soft thick layer of her cotton blanket. The noise seemed to have disappeared, and Winter was quite okay with that. She wondered briefly of the possibility of a mountain lion finding its way into the Schnee Estate. She wasn’t even sure if wild animals such as that existed in Solitas, much less bright and pristine Atlas. Winter wasn’t even sure if mountain lions meowed. 

  If a beast made it’s way into the manor, what would I even do? No doubt she would try to locate the animal, gather Weiss and Whitley in her arms and stow them somewhere safe. Maybe even use a piece of meat to lure the lion into father’s bedroom, she mused. Winter tried lull herself back to sleep with the thought of her father begging her for mercy as she unleashes her new pet-

  “MREEEEEEEEEEEWOOOOOOOOOOOOOW”

  Her eyes snapped open. Gods-

  A soft muffled voice followed the feline yell. A familiar voice. A voice exactly suited for one little boy she new very well. 

  Winter narrowed her eyes and listening closely. She could tell it was Whitley from the general childish sound of his tone, but due to her very comfortable position in bed, she couldn’t quite her the specifics. Huffing, she sat up and pricked up her ears.

  “... quiet....please kitty... you’re going to wake up....”

  Winter sputtered. Kitty?

  Did Whitley somehow bring a cat into the manor? She didn’t doubt that given the chance he would- he was overly fond of animals in a way that Winter never understood. Not that she hated animals per se, but the idea of the added responsibility of a pet on top of her already ever-growing responsibilities of being heir to the SDC did not sit well with her. Whitley on the other hand, being the third child, and well, and actual child, didn’t really have much to care about beyond his normal tutoring sessions. Which means that, of course he can have a tiny bird feeders outside his window to feed the little birdies and cry at the sight of a roasted chicken because how could they kill and cook and innocent little animal?

  Winter didn’t understand how a child under 10 years of age could be taken by vegan persuasions- even Father was shocked to silence at that outburst at the dinner table.

  The sound of Whitley’s voice faded out as Winter strained her ears. If he did bring a cat into the manor, she needed to fix that immediately. Father would be furious at not only being woken up in the middle of the night but Whitley breaking the strict rule of no animals whatsoever allowed indoors.

  Father is allergic.

  (What animal he’s allergic to is unknown, but Winter suspects he’s just afraid of them).

  Sliding off the bed, Winter winced at the feeling of cold tile on her bare feet. She simultaneously thought of giving Whitley a good scolding for making her roll off of bed at such an ungodly hour and thanking the Gods that Whitley’s room was right next to hers on the other side of the wall. And the farthest away from Father’s room.

  Sliding her feet into a pair of pale blue fluffy slippers, she cautiously stepped out of her room and into the hallway. The moment the clock strikes 12 the hallway lamps usually shut off on their own, leaving at least this portion of the manor pitch black until the sun rises and lights up through the windows. If Father was working late he would manually change the lights to turn off at a later time- only to suite himself, of course. Everyone else who had the misfortune of living in the manor had to finish up and be back in their rooms by midnight or suffer having to find their room in the dark among the endless doors that lined the hallway. Winter had mastered the art of blindly walking down this hall- but not without multiple mishaps and embarrassments at first, unfortunately. 

  Arms outstretched, Winter felt her way from her doorway to Whitley’s room. She kept close to the wall and tiptoed, feeling for the doorknob before pressing her ear against the room door.

  “Are you hungry little kitty?” There was an affirmative purr and Whitley hummed. “I’m going to have to find you some treats...”

  Winter could practically hear the cogs turning in his little adolescent mind. She knew for sure that Whitley was formulating a plan to break into the food storage for the animals in Mom’s garden- would they even have any cat food in there? He surely is going to be disappointed. 

  Winter sighed. She almost wished she had stayed in bed. She turned the knob and nudged open the door, prompting Whitley to softly gasp. 

  “Winnie!” She heard him quickly shift on his bed. Winter stepped fully into the space before gently closing the door behind her. She turned towards him and assessed the scene before her. Whitley, in his white nightgown, sat in the middle of the bed. He was cradling a suspicious lump wrapped up with his blanket while his round face was contorted by a small frown as he stared back at his oldest sister.

  “Father says that we shouldn’t leave out room after midnight”, the lump shifted and Whitley clutched it tighter.

  “Father also says we aren’t allowed to bring animals into the manor...” Winter crossed her arms over her chest. “What’s that on your lap?”

  “Nothing!”

  “Are you sure?” Whatever annoyance Winter felt melted away at the sight of Whitley pouting. She sauntered playfully to the edge of his bed and wiggled and finger in his face. “Are you lying to me? Your older sister Winnie? You’re lying to me?”

  Whitley broke eye contact. “Well...” The lump mewed and a furry white paw extended from out of the cover of the blanket. Winter raised a brow.

  “That looks suspiciously like a cat.” Winter crawled into his bed and uncovered the little creature. The cat loafed on Whitley’s lap, grooming the pristine white fur on around its pink paw beans. It looked to be a few years old. 

  “Isn’t it pretty?” Whitley caressed the cat’s back, having already moved on from the earlier argument. Winter tried to pat its head but the little critter swiftly dodged her palm and scampered to the edge of the bed and curled up, seemingly to sleep. Rude.

  There’s a more present matter at hand anyways.

  “Where did you find it?” Winter turned her attention back to her little brother.

  “Her”

  “What?”

  “It’s a she, Winnie! Look at her butt!” Winter politely declined the suggestion. She had no interest in inspecting the cat’s backside- she didn’t seem to like Winter anyways.

  “Well, where did you find her?” 

  “I didn’t find her! Mr. Hartley gave her to me”

  “The grounds keeper?”  Winter scoffed. “Why would he give you a cat?”

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “Why don’t you don’t believe me?” His eyes started to brim with tears and he grabbed Winters right hand with his own two smaller ones. “Father said we’re not allowed to bring animals in here but I didn’t know what to do! Mr. Hartley said he’s leaving but he can’t take her with him. I said I would keep her. But Father is going to yell at me if he finds out- I’m scared...” 

  Winter’s chest ached at the desperation in Whitley’s voice. This isn’t normal is it? For a child to be so terrified of their parent like this. When she was his age, she felt the same way- so scared and vulnerable. It was the end of the world to get negative attention from Father, and most of the time it seemed to be the only type of attention he gave. It almost seemed par for the course all those years ago. She didn’t know any better- it was just the norm.

  Looking at Whitley, petrified like she was- she could see the abuse from the outside. Almost as if she’s watching her own experiences and she’s chained to a front row seat. Except she didn’t have an older sibling to hold her hand and to share the pain with. To protect her. To defend her. Isn’t that what she always wanted in the worst days of the past? Couldn’t she be that now?

  Whitley couldn’t keep the cat. There was no amount of convincing that could make Father give in- it’s always been about his own ego, more than anything. But that doesn’t mean that Father has to know this cat was ever here in the first place. Atlas has plenty of animal shelters, and having a pet cat was in vogue now. She would convince Whitley to let Klein take the cat to the nearest one in the morning. Father would never know if they were discrete. 

  “Winnie...” Whitley’s bright blue eyes searched her face.

  Winter grabbed him under his arms, and with little struggle, sat him between her stretched out legs. She hugged him around the waist from behind and softly told him her plan. 

  “... do you want to do this with me?”

  Whitley sniffed. “I can’t keep her?”

  “Father won’t allow you to. We can make sure the kitty is safe and taken care of though... Klein will do this for us, I know it. You won’t get yelled at and you can tell her goodbye in the morning. Father will be none the wiser.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that he’ll never know.”

  Whitley was quiet for a few seconds before Winter felt him nod softly beneath her chin. “Can I sleep with her tonight?”

  Winter blinked. She forgot it was currently hours past Whitley’s bedtime. He must be half asleep.

  “Yes. Just make sure to keep her in your room, okay? I’ll leave a message for Klein to see in the morning. Don’t...” She paused. She noticed Whitley breath start to even out as he fell asleep against her.

  I suppose I’m going to be sleeping her tonight also. She needed to make sure that this all goes well. However, Winter couldn’t ignore the uneasiness in the pit of her stomach. Was she just getting Whitley used to this? Hiding secrets out of fear? Was she allowing Father to have his way in Whitley’s eyes? Getting Whitley accustomed to living under Father’s thumb? She was just trying to protect him. But she couldn’t shake the feeling of selfishness, that she was denying Whitley happiness for the sake of peace with their Father.

  Mom always told her to choose her battles carefully. 

  She couldn’t help but feel that if she chose all the wrong ones, she’ll end up hurting Whitley beyond repair.

[severetimetravelnerd]

Change(ft. G Dragon and Yoo Yeon-Seok)

Part 8

Jiyong finds a way to get close to you, but he feels bad about deceiving you.

@starlighttaek8​ @unabashedturkeytreeslime​ Thanks for the support you guys!

(I don’t own any of the images used. All credit goes to the original owner.)

Also, there is a hint of implied smut in this part. Just thought I’d warn you guys :)

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Jiyong was numb after figuring it out. He sat there and stared at the screen for at least half an hour before groaning,

 “Fucking hell Jiyong. Trust your luck to be this bad.”

 He looked back down at the phone, scowled and threw himself into the couch. He wanted to somehow make it up to you. To explain to you what happened. For a reason he was not yet willing to accept, your opinion mattered to him. Still speaking into the couch, he said,

 “If she was mad enough to use it in her fanfic, I’ve fucked up pretty badly.” And he groaned again.

After staying like that for 10 minutes, he slowly got up, picked up his phone and looked at the blog.

 “Oh well, I might as well find out what she likes from the blog.” 

And he scrolled all the way down to your first post and started reading. He stayed up the whole night reading your posts. And your rants. And your Fanfics. And reading up on the random things you liked. He laughed and chuckled at some of your posts, and felt his heart ache for you because of others. At the end of it, he had a pretty decent idea of what kind of person you are. Still feeling down from having snapped at you, and running on days of sleep deprivation, he made a spur of the moment decision that he was sure he’d regret later. He messaged you on tumblr.

   You woke up the next morning to see a message from one of your followers. You were still hurt and upset from what happened with Jiyong, but you loved talking to your followers and the message cheered you up. You opened it up and saw that it was that follower. The one who read every single one of your posts and left notes for each one. You recognised this follower. This follower was your first loyal fan. Feeling even more excited, you opened up the message. It was a message asking about the inspiration for the last thing you posted. You instantly felt some sort of connection with this follower. You felt as though they just knew how you felt and how GD snapping at you made you feel. Normally, you wouldn’t have explained what happened, but because of who was asking and the connection you felt, you explained what happened without using any names.

After messaging you, Jiyong immediately felt the waves of nervousness coming. He sat there by his phone, waiting anxiously for a reply, but finally, nerves got the better of him, and he left his phone there and went to his home studio to try and work. Hours later, when he came back to check on his phone, he jumped up when he saw that you actually replied. The feeling was bittersweet. His heart sank when he read your explanation of what had happened and how it made you feel, but he was elated to see that you replied. Not only had you replied, but you also asked him about himself, and told him about how you had always wondered about him, your first fan. He decided to jump at this opportunity and try and get to know you.

 A month later, Jiyong nervously sat in front of a beautiful notebook, stretched out his shaky hands, picked up his pen, and started writing his apology to you. In that month, things had changed drastically. You and Jiyong got really close, all over text, of course. The two of you had really gotten to know each other well, and as for you, you had started to like him. You had never seen the man, and you didn’t know anything other than his name, Ji, but you knew you liked him. In fact, that morning, you were the one trying to build up courage to ask him out on a date. You liked the way he simply got everything you said, from all your vague and obscure references, to all your random rants. You liked the way he knew just what to say to you at all times. Things never felt forced with him. You liked the way he would go out of his way to educate himself about things, and was willing to learn. You liked the way he was honest with you, even when the truth was harsh. And to top it all, this was the first time you had ever felt such a connection over text, because for the most part, you were and are, a terrible texter. Somehow, he just understood.

Jiyong also finally accepted that he liked you. Of course, his playboy ego didn’t want to accept that he, the ‘Kwon Jiyong’ liked a someone so deeply that just the sight of her smile, or the sound of her voice, or her soothing touch would put to rest his troubled emotions, and his perpetual unease, but for the time being, he had accepted that he liked you. Just not the extent to which he did. He definitely found you attractive, and absolutely beautiful at all times, but it baffled him that he didn’t find himself looking for only sexual gratification with you. He also wanted an emotional connection, something unprecedented for the one and only GD. He knew that the desire he felt for you was deeper, but again, he didn’t want to accept it. All he knew was one simple fact. “I want to be with her and make her happy.”

 Jiyong was still trying to talk to you every day at work, but you had put up a barrier, still sticking to the ‘Sir’. You had no idea that the Jiyong you were texting was the same man who was your employer. There had been so many days where you’d be smiling at your phone, with an utterly stupid grin on your face, texting him, not knowing that he was in the same room as you, with the same stupid grin. Jiyong wanted nothing more than to tell you. He wanted to be able to share the same equation with you even at work. He wanted to be able to talk to you, touch you, be with you, but he was deadly scared. He was scared you’d just push him away. He knew he had to make things up to you somehow, but he had no idea how. But one day, when he saw you scribbling down ideas in your old battered book, the idea came to him.

He immediately went home and called a friend of his who makes notebooks and asked for his help. Jiyong knew what he was going to do. He would get you a birthday gift, albeit much belated. He would make you a notebook. A custom made, personalised notebook, with a vintage leather cover. He would design it himself. He would print your favourite quotes on every page. He would add pictures you really loved. He would add the small things you truly loved. He would write you an apology letter on the first page and tell you the full truth. He would make it up to you. He threw himself into the work that went into making the book, never stopping to think about how he had never put in this kind of effort for anyone else.  

The same day he decided to give you the book, you decided to ask Jiyong to meet you for coffee. You were nervous the whole day at work, terrified that he would rebuff you. Scared that you would lose him. Caught up in all of that, you didn’t notice the thousand nervous glances Jiyong gave you. You were just about to leave for the day when Jiyong asked you to stay back as he was working late. Irritated, but having no other choice, you stayed back grumpily. Jiyong noticed your mood, and felt even more desperate. He waited for everyone to leave, and around 1 in the morning, he decided to bite the bullet.

 You were looking at notes you had jotted down in your book, and frowning, hating the fact that you were still at work. Jiyong gulped, bit his lips and got up and walked over to you. He sat down next to you and waited for you to notice him. You looked up after a minute and realised he was there.

 “Sir, is there a problem?”

 He took a deep breath, looked you in the eye and placed the notebook in your hands.

Annoyed and suspicious, you started flipping through the book. You thought it was something he needed to spellcheck. You got even more annoyed seeing the blank pages. A nervous Jiyong was watching you, wincing as your frown got a little deeper. You were about to ask him about the book when you slowly noticed the pictures and the quotes. Your eyes widened a little. Those were all your favourite quotes, all your favourite pictures. You flipped it over and looked at the cover. It was full of things important to you. Things that inspired you. Things that were so personal to you, you had only ever told one person about it. Your head was spinning.

 “No way. There is no way he is the same guy.” 

As you were frozen in shock, Jiyong gently guided your hands and flipped the book open to the first page, where he wrote his apology.

“Dear Y/N,

It’s me, Ji. I thought I’d make a special gift for a special someone, especially since I was stupid enough to not know her birthday. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. There are so many things I wish I could change. I wished I never ignored you. I wish I hadn’t snapped at you. I wish I had explained what happened that night. I wish I could be there for you, because I know things have been rough. But I also know I’m part of the reason things are rough. The days you would come home and text me, upset because of how your boss was being an ass, my heart would break. It would break for two reasons. Firstly, that I was the reason you were upset. Secondly, for not being able to console you. You know me Y/N. You know how I’ve mentioned I hide the fact that I read fanfiction because of the bad rep it gets. That’s what happened that day. I was reading a fanfic when you asked me what I was reading. I was scared. I was vulnerable. I was worried. I jumped and hurt you and your feelings in the process. It’s not an excuse. I know what I did was wrong, and believe me, I regret it so deeply, that I’ve tried everything under the sun to try and get you to talk to me. I also want to apologise for something else. I’m sorry for keeping it from you that I’m the same Jiyong as your asshole boss. I didn’t have the courage then, but I’ve finally worked it up now. I’m terrified that you’ll stop talking to me with this letter, but you deserve to know the truth. I’m sorry. I never want to have to have a life without you in it, but at the same time, I will respect whatever decision you make, because after all, I want you to be happy.

Jiyong (both your fan and your asshole boss)”

Jiyong waited nervously for your reply. That letter was the sincerest he had been in his life, and it was killing him. He waited, his nervous leg shaking the whole time. You, on the other hand, were frozen. You were frozen for multiple reasons. firstly, you could not believe it was the same man. The man you liked and the man you thought you despised are one and the same. Secondly, the fact that you forgave him. The moment you read that letter, you knew that it was heartfelt. You knew that Jiyong wanted your forgiveness. And you had given it to him. You hated yourself for forgiving him so easily. You knew he hurt you. You knew that you should be more wary of him. You knew he could hurt you again, but somehow, the Ji you knew convinced you to take that risk of forgiveness. As it is, the world judges people harshly for their choices. Keeping that in mind, you decided to stop bashing yourself up for your choices and told yourself to focus on your happiness. Thirdly, the fact the Jiyong had read all your fanfictions, and all your posts, including the ones about him. You just wanted to curl up into a ball and cover your face. You couldn’t possibly look him in the eye after that. Fourthly, the fact that you liked him and were about to ask him out. Again embarrassed, but thanking god for not having asked him out yet. But then the embarrassment returned, because your texts had definitely been flirty. In your panic, you forgot that he had also been flirting back. And lastly, his physical proximity to you. Without realising it, Jiyong had moved closer to you to try and gauge your reaction. Now, he was so close that you could feel his breath on your neck. And it did things to you. Your body stiffened and a shiver went down your spine.

The wait was killing Jiyong. you were still looking down, at the letter. He waited for five minutes, and unable to take it anymore, he moved even closer and asked, 

“Y/N, is everything okay?” 

You stayed frozen, refusing to look up because you knew your cheeks would be cherry red. Getting more anxious by the second, Jiyong tried to bend down and look at you, but you turned your face away. Jiyong was going insane, and was about to burst out in despair, when he realised your ears were turning red. He froze, confused. And then slowly, he remembered all the fanfictions you wrote, and all the flirty texts the two of you had exchanged. The anxious look slowly morphed into the smirk you knew so well. The same vaguely arrogant one that made people weak in the knees. But there was something different about the smirk. There was some amount of care in those eyes. Leaning in a little closer, he reached for your chin, and slowly tilted up your blushing face. You were refusing to look at him. he held your chin, and gently made you look at his smirk and the raised eyebrow. You could already feel the goosebumps on your flesh. The smirk only deepening, he leaned in even closer, so much so that his lips were practically against your ear, and whispered, 

“You know that smut you posted about me a week ago? That’s not even close to half of the things I’d do… to you.”

[enthusiasticsobrietyabuse]

Bob Meehan - Times Advocate: Sunday, August 26, 1984

The story of a con man who helps kids kick drugs

Robert Meehan describes himself as a hippie, a rebel, a former heroin addict and a con man. There is no one better qualified, in his mind, to help teenagers get off drugs.

Meehan is the director of a Valley Center drug-rehabilitation program for young drug abusers called SLIC - Sober Live-In Center - Ranch. The former director of a major Houston-based drug rehabilitation program, Meehan has won high praise from clients and their parents, who have included comedians Carol Burnett and Tim Conway.

Despite that praise, however, Meehan's methods have attracted considerable controversy. He left the Houston Palmer Drug program in 1980, after television reports questioned the accuracy of the program's vaunted success rate and Meehan's possible conflict of interest in receiving a lucrative hospital consulting fee.

Meehan's problems did not end when he left Houston, however.

The county has declared SLIC Ranch to be in violation of zoning ordinances, and the state has threatened to close it down unless Meehan gets proper license to run a drug-treatment program. The county has also questioned SLIC's ties to a burgeoning self-help drug program called Freeway that has a satellite programs throughout San Diego County.

SLIC, which charges $4,000 a month and caters mainly to children of affluent parents, has also prompted concerns among drug-counseling professionals. Some worry that the cost of the program is excessive and that it relies heavily on non-professional counselors to provide treatment. They also express concern that Meehan could exert undue influence over his impressionable young charges.

Meehan established SLIC Ranch in 1981 as a privately-funded live-in center for young drug abusers requiring daily counseling to overcome their habits. Between 10 and 16 young people live in a rambling ranch-style house, supervised by Meehan and recovered drug-abusers who have gone through the SLIC program themselves.

While two professional psychologists are associated with the program, the emphasis is on former drug addicts and recovered alcoholics whose counseling approach is: "I've been there before." Meehan himself is a former heroin addict and recovered alcoholic.

Meehan, who wears his hair shoulder-length and sports tight designer jeans and a gold chain necklace, both dresses and acts hip - partly, he says, to gain the trust of his young clients.

"They say, 'Wow, look at this crazy old hippie,'" said Meehan, who does not care to modernize his image.

"I'm still a rebel. I'm still a hippie. I don't know how to change. I love the cause. I feel like I've got as righteous a cause as the Vietnam War."

Meehan said he can understand how parents bringing their kids to SLIC might be leery of him, given his appearance.

"I don't know if I'd trust me," he said, laughing. "But beneath this hair is a red neck. I'm a Republican. Voted for Reagan."

But when he talks about drugs, Meehan speaks in a voice that teenagers can understand.

"It's the Cheech-and-Chong generation," Meehan is fond of saying to his clients. "They're committing suicide on the installment plan."

Meehan often harps on the comedy team of Cheech and Chong, whose trademark is overindulgence in marijuana. In sharp contrast to some health professionals, Meehan regards marijuana as one of the most dangerous drugs used by teenagers.

"Marijuana is the most insidious chemical in society today," because it affects the mind, Meehan said. "I'd rather the kids were shooting heroin."

Meehan's message and his style often prompt adulation from the young people in his care.

"He has the answer to everything," said 16-year-old girl from La Jolla who said she was having trouble getting along with her mother, who had recently remarried. "He has love. It's like one big family. We work together and play together, and it's fun. And Bob's our big daddy."

Meehan, 41, the son of an Irish policeman, grew up in Baltimore. He said he started taking drugs at age 12.

He became an alcoholic and a heroin addict, spending four years in state and federal prisons for drug convictions. While in a Texas jail, Meehan was befriended by an Episcopalian priest. Upon his release he became the janitor for the Palmer Memorial Episcopal Church in Houston.

The priest urged Meehan to stay off drugs by counseling some of the local kids with drug problems of their own. Meehan said that at the time he was "a crazy kid with a 'hellatious' ego and visions of grandeur" and too flattered to turn down the offer.

The informal, self-help group began in 1972 with six members. It grew to become the Palmer Drug Abuse Program, which, according to Meehan, has had 30,000 participants. Meehan described it as "the most powerful drug program in the world."

It was closely modeled after the Alcoholics Anonymous program, with recovered abusers helping their peers.

Palmer garnered national publicity in the late 1970s, when actress Carol Burnett sent her daughter, Carrie Hamilton, there for treatment. Burnett was so impressed with her daughter's improvement that she and her husband accompanied Meehan on the "Phil Donahue Show" and other television shows to tout the program's success.

But Meehan's claims that his program had a cure rate of 75 percent to 80 percent attracted some sharp scrutiny.

In January 1980, CBS' "60 Minutes" TV program broadcast a piece on Palmer. According to a transcript of the broadcast, Meehan conceded under repeated questioning by Dan Rather that he did not have documentation to support his alleged success rate.

Rather also questioned Meehan's $50,000 annual consulting fee from a Houston hospital to which Palmer routinely sent young drug addicts for costly medical treatment. Meehan said during the interview that he saw no conflict of interest.

Meehan was also asked about his power to "persuade" some of the program's vulnerable young clients.

"I have that power," Meehan said. "I certainly do. I've been a con all my life. Just now I'm using it in a good way, see."

Following the "60 Minutes" piece, Meehan was asked to leave Palmer. In retrospect, Meehan now says, he could have prevented his firing by paying more attention to program details.

"I wasn't doing a damn thing wrong," he said. "I didn't mind the store. I was naive."

Meehan came to San Diego to work for Contemporary Health Inc., which was consulting with Center City Hospital, now Harborview Hospital, to establish a drug-abuse program. But his work for the hospital was short-lived.

"My methods are very unorthodox," Meehan said. "I was always fighting the staff."

While working for the hospital, however, Meehan helped establish a self-help counseling program called Freeway. It was modeled directly after Palmer and named after a rock music group formed at Palmer to entertain the kids in the program.

Freeway was started in 1982 by Jac Coupe, a former Palmer counselor, and by other Palmer employees who has left Texas after Meehan's departure. It now has centers in Coronado, Point Loma, Solana Beach and the newest one in Fallbrook.

The program, whose services are free, is funded in each community by local civic groups and churches. It is open to people 13 to 25 seeking help for drug and alcohol problems.

Participants are encouraged to attend weekly group-counseling sessions and to follow a 12-step program to achieve sobriety. Those who are severely addicted are referred for hospital treatment. In some cases, however, Freeway counselors conclude that a young person needs more intensive counseling - at SLIC Ranch.

Those who go to SLIC for a typical one-month stay range in age from 13 to 24, with the average age about 16. Most are psychologically - not physically - addicted to drugs. They have come to get free of dependence on marijuana, alcohol, speed and LSD.

Pat, a 19-year-old Rancho Santa Fe youth, realized he needed help when he mugged a woman to get money for his $600-a-week cocaine habit. John, a 21-year-old alcoholic from Clairemont, had tried a variety of alcohol treatment programs with no success.

SLIC participants live in a spacious ranch house, set among the oaks and hills of Valley Center, with a garden and pond-shaped swimming pool. They share bedrooms dormitory-style, with three or four to a room.

The participants are required to prepare their own meals to their own tastes, and there are no planned menus. Cereal and hot dogs are staples.

The rules prohibit drugs, alcohol, sex and violence. However, smoking, which is allowed, is prevalent.

"We don't care about cigarettes, diets and vitamin intake," Meehan said.

Participants spend most of their days in counseling. During their free time they are allowed to lounge by the pool and play rock music, much to the dismay of the neighbors. Occasional field trips are taken to Disneyland and other amusement centers.

SLIC residents are supervised by a staff of six, most former SLIC residents themselves. At least one staff person is on duty 24 hours a day.

One of the supervisors, Jackie Moors, 26 got off drugs a year ago after going through the SLIC program. Moors, who started doing drugs at age 10 and progressed until she was shooting up crystal methamphetamine, credits SLIC with turning her life around.

"The next stop would have been either jail or death" without SLIC, she said. The program worked, she said, because "people really cared about me." Her young son stays with her at the ranch.

Meehan said one goal of the center is to show residents "how to have more fun sober" than on drugs or alcohol.

Every weekday SLIC residents are transported by van to a rented house in Escondido, where they spend six hours in therapy and discussion.

The sessions are directed by Meehan and by Peter Sterman, a psychological assistant, who cannot practice without supervision of a licensed psychologist. His supervisor is Dr. Carl E. Morgan of San Diego.

In the evenings and on weekends, the residents are often taken to meetings of Freeway or Alcoholics Anonymous.

Last month the state notified Meehan that the center was operating without a license and threatened to close it down unless the center meets state standards required for a so-called residential-care license.

SLIC has been operating without a license because Meehan has successfully dodged the requirements, according to Tom Hersant, director of the San Diego office of the state's Community Care Licensing Division.

He told state officials that the ranch was operating not as a residential-care center providing therapy to live-in clients, but as a "boarding house," with the boarders receiving their counseling off the ranch in an Escondido house.

Meehan told the Times-Advocate that he attempted to avoid licensing to keep costs down.

Last month state investigators who has been suspicious of the arrangement finally confront SLIC officials.

"They told us, 'All right, already. We do provide therapy,'" Hersant said. "Suddenly now they're 'fessing up that they offer therapy."

State officials informed Meehan that a license would be needed.

To obtain a license the center would have to meet fire safety standards, provide a medical checkup for new clients to insure they are getting the appropriate treatment, and keep records evaluating the clients' progress. SLIC would no longer be allowed, as it does now, to mix clients younger than 18 with those older than 18.

Please see Ranch, page B2

Meehan has insisted that the licensing requirements are minor. He said he would comply, though he feels that the regulations would bring too much formality to the relaxed way he runs the program.

Not only must the ranch be licensed, but the counseling program run at the Escondido house must obtain a separate license to offer drug counseling. Once a facility is licensed, the state inspects it once a year to insure that standards are met.

Hersant said SLIC has agreed to apply for the two licenses. The licensing approval usually takes 90 days. If no licenses are obtained, he said, the state will move to shut SLIC down.

Meehan said he plans to meet the state requirements, but he dislikes the paperwork.

"I will comply to whatever extent I have to, to help young people," he said. "At the same time, I just want to do my thing."

Meehan said his problems with the state occurred because of negative publicity generated by the ranch's landlord, Clayton Blehm, an Escondido accountant. Blehm was sentenced in June to one year in jail for zoning violations at the Valley Center property that included adding illegal structures around the ranch. He is out on bail awaiting an appeal.

Blehm has also been cited by county zoning officials for allowing SLIC to move in without getting a major use permit - required to run a treatment center in a rural-residential area. The zoning investigations were prompted by complaints from neighbors, some of whom said that a drug treatment center did not belong in their quiet neighborhood and that they were repeatedly disturbed by loud music.

Last year SLIC and Freeway were the subject of an "informal investigation" by the county Division of Drug Programs. The investigation was prompted partly by complaints from a San Diego city schools official concerned that Freeway encouraged some young persons to stay away from school for one to three months to avoid their drug-using friends.

The report concluded that the complaint was the result of lack of communication between the school district and Freeway and that the two should work out an understanding.

The county investigation was also prompted by concerns about SLIC's relationship with Freeway.

"On the surface," the report said, "one might question the referral relationship, since both program directors hold a personal acquaintance that foes back to the Palmer Drug Abuse Program in Houston. However, DDP has no documentation information to suggest there is any impropriety or conflict of interest in the referral process."

Meehan said he has no break-down on where SLIC clients come from, but that many are referred by Freeway. He said SLIC and Freeway have no financial arrangements, because that would be unethical.

"There can't be," he said. "There's absolutely no financial arrangement either way."

Meehan urges all SLIC residents to attend Freeway counseling sessions after they leave the ranch. That is critical to staying sober, according to Meehan.

"If we can't hook a kid into Freeway," he said, "his chances are less than 60 percent of making it."

Some who go through the SLIC program are advised to live with "Freeway families" for several months, rather than with their own families. Meehan defended the practice for some clients, contending they would fall back into bad habits at home.

Asked whether continued reliance on Freeway would hurt a client's chances of becoming independent, Meehan said, "It's a very safe group of friends to have. I don't know if it's an unhealthy dependency."

According to Meehan, 90 percent of those who have gone through the SLIC program in the past 18 months have remained sober or off drugs after they left. He said that figure comes from undocumented reports from Freeway officials. "I hate statistics," he said.

Despite its concerns, the County Division of Drug programs concluded that there was "no documentable evidence" to prevent the county from recommending SLIC and Freeway as treatment centers.

At the time of the investigation, Meehan was serving the first year of a three-year term on the county's Advisory Committee on Drug Abuse. The 11-member volunteer committee helps county officials select drug-treatment programs to receive county money.

Freeway centers, which are privately funded, are generally located in affluent regions of the county.

"They're in the ones that can pay for it," Meehan said. "They have raised the money."

Parents in those communities can also afford to send their children to SLIC. The $4,000-a-month cost of attending SLIC has raised eyebrows among professional drug counselors.

By comparison, the county-funded McAllister Institute of Training and Education in El Cajon charges about $720 a month to treat women with drug problems.

Jessica Lewis, program director for Community Resources and Self-Help Inc., which has a county contract to treat drug abusers in San Diego, said the program has never referred anyone to SLIC. Lewis said her program's clients cannot afford Meehan's program.

"His target audience is kids from families that are financially successful," she said. "He's earning big bucks. More power to him. He has a mindset of big business and the heartset of helping people. I don't question his sincerity."

During his "60 Minutes" interview four years ago, Meehan said he was worth more than the $100,000 he was then making. He would not say in a recent interview how much he makes running SLIC.

Meehan, who lives in Rancho Bernardo, said that despite the $4,000-a-month per-person SLIC Ranch fee, he is not getting rich.

"Where that profit is, I haven't seen it yet," he said. "I make enough to pay my bills and save $100 a month."

Some health professionals were reluctant to speak candidly about Meehan's program. One noted that Meehan, because he sits on the county advisory committee, wields influence over the finances of many local treatment programs.

Nevertheless, some drug-treatment experts expressed reluctance to refer clients to SLIC because of its reliance on non-professional counselors. After sitting on a panel discussion with Meehan, Greg Baer, head nurse of the substance-abuse unit at Southwood Psychiatric Hospital in Chula Vista, he said he would not recommend Meehan's program for anyone.

"I just question his ability to be therapeutic," said Baer, whose program also treats adolescents for as much as $10,200 a month. "The people we deal with need a therapeutic approach from people who are knowledgeable... you need to have knowledge of what you're doing and not just go with a gut feeling."

Baer criticized SLIC's exclusion of the families of young drug abusers from its treatment program.

"If Johnny is going to return home, you have to discuss how this is going to be done... Otherwise you are doomed for failure," he said.

Some professional counselors said they worry about Meehan's influence over young people. Lewis said it is important for an organization such as SLIC, which treats emotionally-dependent people, to be accountable to a licensing or watchdog agency. Otherwise, she said, clients can be exploited.

"It's a pain in the neck," she said, "but I'm prepared to answer to those (licensing) people. There are enough people looking over our shoulder to make sure our clients are safe."

John Adam, a licensed psychologist in Coronado who has monitored SLIC Ranch and Freeway for more than a year, said he is concerned about the unorthodox nature of the counseling. Adam said the adulation that SLIC participants feel toward Meehan resembles hero worship.

"Any time you depend on the charisma of a leader, you fear that results will fade with time or distance from the guru," he said.

Meehan said he knows that he has tremendous influence on this young charges, but he tries to use that to good purposes.

"I'd like to think I'd become one of their local heroes instead of Cheech and Chong," he said.

But he acknowledged that his relationship with the clients could lead to problems.

"Yeah, it scares me," he said. "You get into a real guru (situation). This is where cults can begin."

"I have an advantage, though, because they're here only 30 days. I cut them loose emotionally when they leave here."

[twilight-seer]

Gaining Trust

How do you gain the trust of other people, especially the ones with serious trust issues? This article shall highlights the answers for this question.

Building trust in a friendship, relationship, or therapy and counseling clients can sometimes be difficult, annoying, and seems like a never ending work. You know that you are trying your best to be friendly, compassionate, and understanding, but why does it doesn’t seem to work?

In this article, would be using some external sources and information to facilitate the brainstorming and synthesis of the answers into a well-organized steps and methods needed to build trust.

To be able to build trust, one must learn the skills of active listening, but what is active listening?

According to Wikipedia, active listening is:

Active listening is a technique that is used in counseling, training, and solving disputes or conflicts. It requires the listener to fully concentrate, understand, respond and then remember what is being said.

Active listening involves listening with all senses. As well as giving full attention to the speaker, it is important that the ‘active listener’ is also ‘seen’ to be listening - otherwise the speaker may conclude that what they are talking about is uninteresting to the listener.

Interest can be conveyed to the speaker by using both verbal and non-verbal messages such as maintaining eye contact, nodding your head and smiling, agreeing by saying ‘Yes’ or simply ‘Mmm hmm’ to encourage them to continue. By providing this ‘feedback’ the person speaking will usually feel more at ease and therefore communicate more easily, openly and honestly.

It will take me lots of time to compile all the other ambiguous and repetitive steps in active listening, I will just create my own version.

Active listening is listening to understand, not to respond.

Understanding requires a degree of empathy, comprehension, and memory retention.

Questioning, Reflection, and Thoughtful Responses are the ones that signifies and serves as evidence for active listening.

Be aware of the other person’s intentions and see if they really want to talk, vent their feelings, of if they want to know more about you before doing active listening.

Active listening is only one of the steps for gaining the trust of other people, it is a simple and effective step, but without the other methods, it won’t be able to gain the trust of others alone.

Trust is such a fragile thing. As fragile as a woman’s heart, and a person’s ego.

A person whose trust is already broken won’t be able to heal as quickly nor as completely.

Your job is not to make their trust issues go away, but to put them aside for a while so you can have a good conversation without the same “I don’t do that, I don’t trust this and that” kind of thinking. You can do them with the following methods:

Active listening - Listening intently and patiently to the other person.

Neutral Compassion - Understanding their negative and weird point of view but not confirming it neither insisting your point of view. Similar to how a mature dad talks with his old mature son.

Tactfulness - Proper wording, structure, and language when communicating to the person to prevent as much misunderstandings as possible by addressing technicalities, making intentions clear, and solving future misunderstandings.

Openness - Becoming open-minded and not easily shocked by anything, as if you are an old sage who have understood and seen all that is there to be seen in the world, that you know the feelings that lie deep inside the person’s words and actions.

Sincerity - Speaking in a gentle, calm, and relaxed manner made to make your intentions perfectly clear and good without the need to directly say it to the other person. Shows your desire to understand, help, or support the person you are talking with, usually combined with Empathy.

Enthusiasm - A more energetic form of Sincerity, it is being cheerful, optimistic, and a fun person to spread positive energy, infect others with happiness, and become a living proof that the world isn’t all dark.

Vulnerability - Showing and expressing your emotions, weaknesses, and suffering to other people, not for them to laugh at it, but for them to appreciate and acknowledge how strong and courageous you are to become a “human” in this world where they loathe their own species. It helps the person to understand in a more subtle yet clearer way, that it’s okay and perfectly fine to trust other people.

Good grief, that’s a lot of skills. I won’t be able to get them all in a single session or a ten session of experiments and operations. Many of them are against my own character so it will take a long time for me to get accustomed to it. Well we got an entire lifetime to learn it so let’s do this.

I think we are still missing the most important thing in building trust… I wonder what that is.

Is that love? professionalism? No it’s not that.

It’s time.

Time is the most important and essential thing in building trust and physical buildings or constructions. It accounts up to 35% of the chart of trust, being the highest out of all the contributing factors in building trust. But wait, what’s this “chart of trust”?

The chart of trust is:

35% - Time

20% - Active Listening

13% - Tactfulness and Openness (Comprehension and Linguistic ability)

12% - Neutral Compassion (Gentleness)

10% - Sincerity

5% - Vulnerability

5% - Enthusiasm

To explain and give the rationale for this chart, it would be wise to give an example, a situation or- Understand how difficult it takes to build the trust for those with extreme trust issues.

In a case study I’ve recently read before, there’s this woman who went in therapy and spent many weeks and sessions with the therapists saying how she cannot express herself or answer the question because of her own trust issues.

So instead of asking questions or directing the therapy, she let the patient express herself. Sometimes, they would spend many hours doing nothing in the office, and won’t start the session until the patient finally got bored and start to speak for herself.

(Note: This isn’t a good idea when you’re not a therapist or neither did the patient willingly come to you to help her face the issues and problems. Doing nothing for a long time might make the person come to the conclusion that you are uninterested and a waste of time, so it is suggested that instead of doing nothing, they would do gentle and light activities that subtly remind the person of their own problems until they get comfortable enough to express themselves such as listening to music, story telling, or playing light games.)

Then the time came where she finally got comfortable enough to express herself, she got angry, expressed sadness, and despaired about the events that was crippling her mind for many years.

But what did the therapist do? No, he didn’t immediately controlled the direction of the session, neither did he just passively observed the woman, instead he complimented her ability to express herself and that he is interested on it by using first person pronouns and self-expression words.

Oh geez this is getting boring but you get the point. I’ll skip to the main content.

These people with the highest trust issues are one of the most broken humans in the planet. Always trying to gather themselves and fix it, but no matter what they do the sand falls outside their hands, unable to take any shape without a container. Technically, they are already “broken” in a sense, but in order to continue living, all humans must believe that they are alive and whole, thus creating the holographic illusion of a glass shattered with cracks on the inside and outside, being hold together by lots of duct tape and glue. This illusionary and projected sense of self is what they believe they are, so instead of acting like a broken corpse, they strive to act like an extremely fragile and technically dead versions of themselves to continue living.

So it is of utmost importance to handle them with care, to treat them in the gentlest way possible, and allow them to take all their time in the world. This may seem easy while reading this article, but this is one of the most difficult thing that some humans have to do, which is many levels of difficulty than a triple 280 degree air screwdriver backflip combo.

It takes lots of time and patience so if you haven’t experienced waiting for at least a year or two for something trivial but important to you, then it would be almost impossible. Patience is a legendary skill, being the only active skill that doesn’t have any cooldown and whose effects transcends time and space. You will need lots and lots of time, commitment, and perseverance to acquire that skill, so yeah, that’s the point it won’t be easy.

Now you may start think why these kind of annoying humans who have done little contribution to society should be given that much attention, time, and special treatment. But the answer is rather simple. Ask yourself, do you think you have contributed many things to the world? Have you really earned your right to exist and live? And do you deserve to be happier than millions of people? No you don’t, and neither do they. If you get treated by an enlightened therapist to unlock your potential and find yourself within just a year, then you would be 1000x better than you currently are. The same thing can happen for them, except they would need it more than you for hundreds of reasons. Stay put and use your critical mind to discover your weaknesses instead of criticizing others.

So where are we? Oh that’s right, we’re discussing about how to gain the trust of the most cynical and vigilant humans on the planet.

I placed the sincerity below the chart because some humans doesn’t want anymore self-pity and empathy from others, they are already blaming and feeling bad about themselves a thousand times per day, and they don’t want you or anyone else to increase that number. They want to solve their problem, make themselves whole again, express their feelings, and be understood by other people. They do not need any of your annoying sympathy that doesn’t really help or comfort them in any way. One must be gentle, neutral, and tactful instead of absorbing all their negative energy just for the sake of empathy.

Vulnerability is low on the list since making yourself worse than other’s doesn’t really help nor teach them anything. If tell your parents that Bob got worse grades than you on the test where you got a D, would your parents be happy or satisfied about it? No they won’t, so these attempts to self-deprecate just so others can feel better about themselves are quite inefficient, negative, and primitive. They won’t always perceive it as you expected, so you better off using the other techniques and skills on the chart unless you’re not a therapist and you are talking to your friend, then it can be a good way to establish socio-emotional connections and add more depth to your friendship.

Enthusiasm is great and cool, but most of the time, instead of being helpful to other people who have trust issues, it makes them more suspicious and guarded to you especially if you act like the church guy always knocking on the door to give flyers and pamphlets that almost no one reads or like the salesman trying to sell an overpriced item by projecting and combining their enthusiasm and positivity with it. However, it is a great thing when it comes to friendships and relationships and for people who only have a moderate degree of skepticism and not those extreme ones.

So overall, the most important things here to build trust is Time, Active Listening, Tactfulness, and Neutral Compassion. One cannot learn it by just practicing it in the head or imagining scenarios, like they say, practice makes progress, and learning from mistakes makes perfect.

Humans… are such fragile creatures. Emotionally vulnerable and socially exposed, you wonder how these fragile creatures manage to reach the top of the food chain. Is the duct tape really that strong? Maybe they found a way to cover their weakness? Well it’s not that surprising. They are built and made to break and grow, so their parts are always replaced often, where they eventually become not an unbreakable diamond, but a beautiful glass, filled with water, wine, and the cheers of the lively crowd.

“Remember this feeling my child, this feeling of childlike trust where you wander around the world, trusting everything that you see to be good and nice, without any worries of rejection or regret.”

“Trust no one, and betray the world around you. Don’t trust yourself, and betray your own self.”

[docmary]

Food Insecurity-We may not live by bread alone, but neither do we live without it.

The test of our progress is not whether we add more to the abundance of those who have much; it is whether we provide enough to those who have little.  Franklin D. Roosevelt

It has been my good fortune to have been able to support myself (barely at times) doing the work that I love, being a naturopathic doctor, for most of my adult life. I remember a sign in my tax preparers office that read: “The joys of owning your own business, not unlike the joys of natural childbirth, have been greatly exaggerated.” Or something like that. There are certainly those in my profession that have been financially successful along with the intrinsic rewards of helping people, but I was not one of them.

And then I got cancer. And not dying became my full-time job. On the side I also worked as a home health aide and I made little money but also had little in the way of responsibility. I also relied on programs like Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP), also known as food stamps to survive.

I am doing well now. I have relocated from Alaska (my home of 30 years) to Washington state where I grew up, so that I could be closer to family. I was fortunate in that I had family to take me in while I figured out my next moves. Some are not so lucky.

I started volunteering at the Sky Valley Food Bank in my new community as a way to build my social network. I was blessed with the instant camaraderie of many fellow and sister volunteers, and paid staff, who were joined in a single purpose: support the mission of eliminating hunger. Every week we provided food for an average of 261 families, enough for 10 meals per person. This amounts to more than 75,000 pounds of food distributed every month—almost one million pounds per year.

And Then Came COVID-19

According to data from the US Department of Agriculture (USDA), some 13.7 million households (10.5% of all households), experienced food insecurity at some point in 2019. That is 35 million Americans who were either unable to acquire enough food to meet their needs, or uncertain of where their next meal might come from.

In one study that came out in June 2020, researchers asked: “In the last seven days, which of these statements best describes the food eaten in your household?”

 Enough of the food we wanted to eat

 Enough, but not always the kind of food we wanted to eat

 Sometimes not enough to eat

 Often not enough to eat.

According to these researchers, since 2019, food insecurity has doubled overall and tripled in households with children.*

The Ripple Effects of Hunger

Not having access to healthy food has ripple effects of chronic ill health, disability, stress, and worsening poverty. These problems did not start with COVID-19, but the pandemic has made even more glaring the differences in the quality of life between “those who have much [and] those who have little.” This kind of safety net, that supplies sustenance to those in need, makes good economic sense. Adults who have a disability, in particular a disability and are not in the workforce, also experience more than twice the rate of food insecurity as adults who do not have a disability.

At our local food bank, we were unable to have our customers shop in-doors like we had in the past safely. We were shut down but found a way to deliver boxes of food to the porches of 125 families in the area. We also drastically cut down on the number of volunteers that could be in our warehouse per day which translates to fewer people doing more physically demanding work. The good news is that people from the community, from gardeners, to private businesses, to social service organizations, and individuals found ways to help Sky Valley Food Bank carry out the mission.**

School Closures and Vulnerable Students

With schools being shut down, students were no longer able to receive meals at their schools at a reduced price or free as they had in the past. This was not just a local problem, across the country nutrition directors reported that they were serving fewer meals than when school was in session. Last spring, the School Nutrition Association surveyed 2000 districts that reported 80% were serving fewer meals. Of those, the majority said the number of meals had dropped by 50% or more.

Most areas relied on the food pick up model that they usually did in the summer months where families could drop by their local school each day, often between 11-1, and pick up a bag lunch and maybe breakfast. But as parents started returning to work, the pickup model did not always work if parents were not always able to take children to the drop off site at the right time.

In Fulton County Georgia and Tucson Arizona, nutrition programs started packing food including frozen hamburgers and pizza, enough for a week’s worth of meals, and sending them out on school buses to be distributed at bus stops where the lowest income families typically resided.***

Food Deserts

In the best of times getting adequate nutrition is especially challenging for people who live in a “food desert.” The definition of a food desert can change depending on where you live. In urban areas, you need to live more than a mile away from a grocery store. For rural areas, you live more then 10 miles away. According to Feeding America, rural areas make up 63% of counties in the US and 87% of counties with high rates of food insecurity. In 2015, 19 million people lived in a food desert and 2.1 million households both lived in a food desert and lacked access to a vehicle according to the USDA.

The Shifting Model of Getting Food to the Food Insecure

In the summertime at Sky Valley Food Bank, we were able to greet our long-time customers, and many new ones, that were able to shop in our outdoor market. I loved being able to chat with our customers and find out how they were getting along. From my own experience, I can say that accepting help for something as necessary as feeding myself was a blow to my ego. Thank goodness I got over that. Being able to help my fellow and sister humans, regardless of why they were our customers is something I treasure.

Like many school districts around the country, our schools were not able to open in September. We partnered with our public schools to set up food pantries in five of our schools. We also had the return of rainy weather and the outdoor market was not an option. We began having a drive through service where our staff would build boxes of food for distribution in people’s cars. We were now serving 325 families and had special “Holiday” boxes in November and December, along with the usual boxes of meat, dairy, dry goods, canned goods, grains, produce, and food for their four-legged household members. Getting two boxes is better than one box, especially during the holidays.

In December we also had a toy drive that garnered an incredible assortment of toys from community members. It is remarkable how much our community does to provide for people having a tough time—food, toys, money—all gratefully accepted. The parents were able to pick out toys for their kids. 

We are looking forward to having our customers back in our service area to carefully select the foods they want for themselves and their loved ones. We are looking forward to giving them the kind of respectful service we always have and continue to provide. COVID or no COVID.

LONE WOLF

I am a lone wolf.

I have lost my pack.

My sire was the first to go. The alfa.

His job to protect the pack, especially from each other, fell to no one.

I grew up with the bitch who was two years my elder.

Always the more adventurous one. She was gone

Before her pups were fully grown.

And they are lost to me.

 The she-wolf who bore me tried desperately to keep the pack together.

“Come home. Why don’t you move back home?”

She grew old, frail, a little crazy

A kind of crazy that was always there but kept in check by the alpha.

 The older bitch is gone too.

When did the word bitch become derogatory?

I reclaim that title. It suits me.

It suits those of us who live in a world where self sufficiency is prized above all

And sentimentality is a luxury.

 Another sire gone. Was it really eight years ago?

He left to be with Jesus.

I think he’s food for flora and fauna.

Who’s to say?

 My brother looks up from the hard work of dying

All traces of silliness and the infectious laughter that is his calling card are gone

And the world is just a bit more lonely.

 The rest of the pack is dispersed.

Do they prowl in search of the familiar?

Of course they do. (howl)

*IPR.northwester.edu/documents/reports/ipr-rapid-research-reports-pulse-hh-data-10-june-2020.pdf

**Helpful Hint: when  thinking of donating food to the food bank, treat the task of going through your pantry the same way you go through your closet—three piles; keep, donate, throw away. You don’t donate clothes that are ripped or stained. You throw them away. The food bank volunteers spend a lot of time sorting through donations. We cannot serve food that is spoiled or way, way, way past the pull date, or that has been opened. Thanks.

***NPR.org/2020/09/08/908442609/children-are-going-hungry-why-schools-are-struggling-to-feed-students

[anhed-nia]

CATTOBER #2 10/20/2019: CAT PEOPLE (1942)

When RKO released Jacques Tourneur’s classic CAT PEOPLE in 1942, it was about a decade after DRACULA and FRANKENSTEIN had roughly co-created the monster movie, and a year after THE WOLFMAN joined Universal’s creature canon. It is hard not to see their influence on Tourneur’s feline-themed effort--a half-human paranormal being, generally bearing a curse from a foreign land, is torn between its craving for love and its urge to kill, effectively symbolizing the loneliness and frustration of the average ticket buyer. There’s nothing wrong with an extra dose of that now and again, as history has proven, but we are lucky that DeWitt Bodeen’s script goes above and beyond the call of those familiar gothic romances. CAT PEOPLE provides a detailed and even confrontational analysis of alienated sexuality and clinical depression that is startling for its era, or perhaps any era.

Serbian fashion illustrator Irena Dubrovna (Simone Simon) innocently initiates the ruination of her own life when she casually litters at the Central Park Zoo. Her carelessness attracts the attention of all-American male Oliver Reed (?! Kent Smith), who promptly sets about trying to tame the eccentric and exotic artist. Having penetrated her apartment (but nothing more) and chided her for her unusual decor, she explains Serbia’s history of witch hunts--specifically, the purging of satanic cultists who could transform into cats. Oliver’s bemused condescension will be a constant presence in their evolving relationship, which somehow escalates to marriage in spite of Irena’s unwillingness to consummate. Irena is open with Oliver about her emotional troubles, claiming that there is something wrong with her that can be catalyzed by sexual stimulation. Irena is a lonely creature who is painfully aware of the difference between herself and ordinary, non-pathological women who are free to do as they please without serious physical and emotional consequences. Oliver, the perennial skeptic, moves from making fun of his wife’s neuroses, to thrusting a shrink upon her. Following in Freud’s footsteps, Dr. Judd (Tom Conway) is an intellectual predator who believes that he can “cure” Irena’s frigidity himself by forcing himself on her. While she tries to navigate this terrible experience, Oliver grows closer and closer to a coworker who has been waiting patiently in the wings for him. Once Irena determines that she has been betrayed by her supposed loved ones and caretakers, more than one of these characters will be doomed.

CAT PEOPLE is just as astute about depression and anxiety as it is about abuse. Irena’s feelings of being sick and unworthy are sadly standard responses to one’s own inability to be happy and uncomplicated--those blithe qualities that define the concept of normality for many. Unfortunately, when this kind of alienation is your problem, it can beget other problems, as it often activates dangerous individuals in your midst. Oliver is a particularly dangerous sort of person, as he fully believes himself to be healthy, happy, and normal. He shoves his way into Irena’s life, in spite of her consistent resistance, because he is incapable of self-doubt. Instead, he focuses all of his critical energies on Irena, scoffing at her ancestral belief system, and glibly dismissing her frank and open discussion of her distress. He thinks he “loves” his wife, but shows her no respect to her face, and shares all of her confidential thoughts and feelings with his friends and acquaintances, to her total mortification. Though he seems incapable of speaking with his wife as equals, he shares a disturbing moment of truth with his colleague Alice (Jane Randolph). “I don’t really know what love is,” he says, just as Alice is bravely confessing her own feelings for him. Alice, a stable and self-confident person, gives him a reasonable definition of a healthy relationship: “It’s understanding...no self-torture, no doubt.” Bypassing Alice’s profession of love, Oliver counters, “That isn’t the way I feel about Irena...I’m drawn to her...I have to watch her when she’s in the room, I have to touch her when she’s near. But I don’t really know her.” He is only really attracted to primitive sexual tension, mystery and vulnerability--an inaccessible woman, the conquest of whom feeds his ego--and Alice, a person of substance and honesty, has neither.

Eventually, Alice will win out, though. Oliver amuses himself with Irena on a grand scale, even paying the price of a wedding to enjoy the drama of trying to undermining her. Just as he is gaining the upper hand, convincing her to revisit the psychiatrist who tries to molest her, Oliver loses interest. He awakens to Alice’s good-natured steadiness, to which she replies ironically, “That’s what makes me dangerous, I’m the new kind of other woman.” This remark identifies the hitch at the center of any relationship with a shallow, gaslighting abuser like Oliver. They make women who are compassionate and emotionally available feel “boring” and sexually worthless, but their seeming preference for “crazy girls” is really just a preference for the opportunity to abuse someone. They don’t take their excitingly volatile and often traumatized lovers seriously, and will eventually turn to the temporarily greener-looking grass of a more socially acceptable female who has her proverbial shit together. Oliver openly flaunts his growing intimacy with Alice, sending Irena away in public so they can be alone, and chastising her for failing to work on herself, for refusing to be honest about her “real” problems. These insults are all too familiar to people battling mental illnesses. The allegedly Healthy will say that the Sick aren’t sick, they’re lazy, and if the Sick try to tell the inconvenient truth about their feelings, they are dismissed as liars. Any other concession would entitle someone like Irena to a little more compassion, which is more work than Oliver is willing to put in.

Honesty is an embattled concept in CAT PEOPLE. Irena goes out on a very unstable limb when she explains herself to Oliver and Dr. Judd, and they use her shocking statements to invalidate anything she has to say. ”I have never lied to you,” she pleads pitifully, as the men build up her reputation as a liar. Judd may or may not fully believe that Irena is convinced of her satanic heritage, but he is happy to paper it over with broad psychoanalytic concepts. “There is in some cases a psychic need to loose evil upon the world,” he says, suggesting that her fixation on wild cats is just a reflection of her destructive nature. “All of us carry within us the desire for death,” he adds, identifying her thanatropic drive as at fault for her perceived refusal to simply *be happy*. This all makes him sound pretty bright, but as the audience can plainly tell, he will pay for his inability to acknowledge that Irena is genuinely trapped between two worlds. Her story ends in tragedy when the bestial impulses that she has fought to contain are finally set free by all of these attacks from those who begged her to trust them. In the film’s final moments, Oliver and Alice look down at the feline corpse of the friend they betrayed, as he infuriatingly remarks, “She never lied to us.” Even at the end, CAT PEOPLE presents a painful reflection of real life, in which those vulnerable people who are disbelieved are rarely around to hear it when they are finally validated.

[rubyredsparks]

Blossoming Souls Ch. 10

Relationship(s): Romantic Logince, Moxiety; Platonic every other relationship

“Tags” for the whole story: morally grey!deceit, Deceit, Remus, Thomas as a character, Romance, Minor violence, someone’s potty mouth, Foul language, Minor homophobia (it’s not that bad), Miscommunication (this one is though), Friendship

Chapter Summary: Drama stirs as Logan finds his heart wavering from anger to something else. Problems start to arise.

Logan couldn’t figure Prince Roman out at all. And it was starting to grate on his nerves.

He had thought that he had the Prince all figured out. That he was just another mindless brute. A prat with a large head. Someone whose ego couldn’t back up its weight.

He was finding that harder and harder to see.

The Prince had been disrespectful at their first meeting. Dismissing him and lying to him straight to his face.

And he went around the palace, hoping to confirm it. At first, he had been looking for him as Thomas, but some of the maids showed him a picture of the King instead of the man he knew, and he had felt red hot anger burn through him.

Asking for a photo of the Prince himself only confirmed his suspicions.

The burning anger was nearly impossible to sate. He had asked around for stories of the man. A charmer, making all swoon with a flash of a smile.

Charismatic too, knowing the right words to say in any given situation. A knight, Captain of the knights in fact. Something of a brute when battling with other fellow knights.

Pigheaded when it came to his food and the cleanliness of his room. Nitpicky about his appearance too, spending hours in the bath before he deemed himself ready to face the waking world.

But then, then another servant had told him about all the commissions that the Prince had ordered, Commissions that came from up and coming artists, names unknown to virtually anyone.

He had ridden out, looking for fresh blood. Bringing back artists by the boatload. He had asked them all to make a piece of artistry fit for a palace, free rein on all mediums, and allowed them all to stay in the palace, paying all of them handsomely.

He had been incredibly helpful showing him the way to the library, but he had made no notion of looking like he was going to apologize to Logan for the deceit. He had waited as they were walking, not until he was at the library did Logan say anything.

And the look on his face was priceless. His thrill at vindication fulfilled at the moment.

Then Prince Roman had run into him again, throwing all his papers and books flying up into the air. Terribly rude. But then he had picked up his papers, apologized, made sure that none of them creased.

The Prince had complimented him on his outfit for the ball, and just the memory of it had him flushing.

Just moments before asking him if he wanted to lead or follow. Seeing how uncomfortable Logan was after the dance. Giving him a way out. Letting him sit down and not participate anymore than he wanted.

The Prince was a conundrum, a puzzle and an oxymoron all at once.

And Logan hated that he couldn’t solve him.

But he also hated people touching him even more. The lady was latched onto him like a leech, cooing with blood stained lips and a condescending smile. His chest was tight, his clothes making him feel as if the room was sweltering.

Then a cool hand, “Excuse me, Lady Rebilta. Thank you for entertaining my ---” a word that Logan couldn’t quite translate, but it made the lady back off, and his skin could breathe again.

“I hate to cut this short, but we must be off. Secrets to share, love to be had, dances to dance,” Prince Roman winked at that, and the lady fanned herself with a mischievous smile, waving them off.

“I’m sorry about Lady Rebilta,” the Prince said suddenly, looking down at Logan. “She was always one of the more… trying parts of nobility. Are you alright?”

“I-” he blinked. Was he alright? Away from that touchy woman, he supposed he was. “Yes, yes, I am. Thank you, Your Highness.”

Something in the Prince’s eyes made him look put down, but it was gone in a flash, leaving Logan to wonder if he was imagining things.

“You made it to the fifth set,” Prince Roman was saying, “do you want to get out of here?”

Logan hesitated, proprietary demanding him to stay.

Something in his face must have made the Prince say, “It’s alright if you don’t want to. But I wanted to bring you to the garden. It’s just outside the doors there. You can easily come back here if you wanted.”

Looking back at the dancers, he heard the music winding down. The perfect chance to escape. The sweltering hot swarm of people, the relentless touching and small talk of politics, the dancing.

It was no wonder that he said, “Yes.”

Prince Roman’s eyes flashed in excitement, and he looked like he was going to grab Logan’s hands before he thought better of it. “Come on! Follow me!”

The music stopped, and people were leaving the dance floor. His Highness cut straight through the throng of people. Logan followed through hastily, making sure not to run into anyone.

It was a welcome relief to walk out of the glass doors to feel fresh, crisp air on his face.

“This way, my Prince,” Prince Roman said, waving. “The gardens are only just through here.”

Logan only shook his head at the unbridled glee in the Prince’s voice. He followed through twists and turns until he stepped through a cut arch of hedges, and his breath was taken away in a loud gasp.

Though dark, lanterns lit up the walkway, illuminating all types of flora and fauna. The assemblage of flora of all types of colour and style blooming all around him.

Flowers of red and gold and white were in multitude. But there were also purple and blue blossoms surrounding him.

The light of the lanterns were soft, giving all the flora a soft, reverent lighting. Casting rays of moonlight only enhanced that image, making the small opening of flowers seem like a soft haven.

“I hope this is pleasing to you, my Prince,” Prince Roman’s voice was quiet, reflecting the atmosphere of the setting itself. Quiet and fond and almost reverent.

Prince Roman stood, back toward Logan, in front of one of many groves of hedges of flowers. Arms clasped behind his back, back straight, head forward, gazing at the flower in front of him.

“I- it’s-” Logan’s tongue felt heavy. The Prince was showing him something that seemed highly private, personal, and he looked nearly vulnerable in the shining dim light of the lanterns.

“Has the great Prince Logan Wysteria of Aowhea been struck speechless?” Prince Roman’s teasing words broke his staring.

“Of course not!” He snapped, eyes starting to blaze with fury. “It’s- it’s just-” But he was still at a loss for words.

The place was magnificent, yes, but still somewhat cloaked in melancholy and love. He couldn’t quite describe it with words. Because doing so… doing so would bring down its value.

“Yes, that’s how I feel about it most days too,” Prince Roman nodded sagely, as if understanding his lack of words.

“If you’re playing me the fool-!”

Logan was cut off by a smile that was too sharp to be nice. “I mean, my Prince, that I understand when beauty is too much to put into simple words in the common tongue over even otherwise. It would sound too lackluster, fake even to say the words outright.”

Prince Roman spun to meet his gaze, posture rimrod straight and smile frighteningly cold. “So, no, Your Highness, I am not ‘playing you the fool’ as you so suggested.”

“I-” Logan took a deep breath. He knew when he was being childish, when it was time to back down. Hearing his royal title said in Roman’s voice made him shiver. “I apologize for my impudence. I meant no offence.”

He bowed his head, making his words sound as sincere as he could make them.

There was a great sigh and footsteps came closer. “I- no. I apologize. I brought you out here to get away from politics and other such nonsense. Not to rope you into another godsforsaken argument.”

A hand on his shoulder, light and ready to move. “I brought you here to see my garden.”

“Your… garden?” Logan asked, making brief eye contact with the other prince, meeting molten chocolate-lava eyes.

“This,” he made a grand, sweeping gesture with his arm, “is my pride and joy. Everything here was grown by my hand. All the plants and flowers and fruit grown and nurtured by Prince Roman himself.”

Said Prince gave a small bow, and Logan suppressed a smile at his antics. “What are some of the flora grown here? You’ve got a mighty many of them. I’m impressed.”

Prince Roman’s head whipped up so fast that Logan thought it might snap in two. The Prince’s eyes were sparkling, wide eyed and eager.

“The most I grow here are flowers because I love looking at the blossoms in the spring. They’re the loveliest things, vibrant and always full of colour. The asters are one of my favourites, and I have a variety around us. They’re the most common flower here in Eiehde. But the funny thing is our country’s flower is the wisteria and its purpling buds and flowers that droop down sprinkle blossoms everywhere. The gardeners hate it. But I love them.

“Now azaleas, they are a beast to maintain. They have to be in the right temperature, humidity and right acidity for the soil. Their soil has to be moist but not soggy, otherwise they’re done for. And the water has to have a little vinegar added when I water it otherwise the proper acidity isn’t done and-”

Prince Roman abruptly cut himself off, teeth clacking shut with a painful sound. He had the most embarrassed expression on his face, ears glowing red against his tanned skin.

“I- I apologize. I hadn’t meant to bore you-”

“No, no!” Logan rushed to say, words falling out of his mouth without his meaning to. “I wasn’t the least bit bored. I had no idea that there was so much to do with garden keeping. It’s all very fascinating, I assure you.”

“I- Regardless, this wasn’t what I brought you out here for. Come, sit down. We’ll catch our death standing around here,” Prince Roman beckoned, ushering him over to a stone bench.

Logan hesitated before gently lowering himself down. None of them spoke, and Logan was afraid of breaking this easy silence, this quiet forever. His feet tapped unthinkingly, and Logan, in this quiet haven, didn’t feel the need to stop it.

“This used to be my Papa’s garden.” Prince Roman said, voice loaded with heavy memories. “He used to tend to this place everyday. Gloves and face covered in dirt, knee deep in soil. He was so happy just tending to the blossoms around here. Me and my brot-”

Roman took a shuddering breath, voice breaking slightly. “Me and my brother would play here with him as he tended to the garden. Tossing around dirt and mud. Being all-around wrecks.”

Logan didn’t know what to say, instead scooting closer so that their thighs were touching. This- this was heavy stuff that Roman was revealing. He didn’t know what to make of it.

Why was Roman telling him this? Why here? Why now? Why tell him at all? He found that he wanted to know more about this Prince. That everlying mystery itching to be solved.

“That sounds like it was fun,” Logan said gently, carefully.

“It was,” Roman let out a harsh laugh. “It truly was.”

Another lapse in silence. And Logan wanted to ask his questions. Why tell him? What happened to his brother? His other Father? Why was he alone? Why did he bring Logan here if it was something so special.

“I’ve always liked flowers,” Roman admitted softly. “They were easier than people. Once you learn the right way to grow them, they’ll love you and thrive. Once you learn their language, they’ll never judge you for anything they say. They leave you once in a while, but they’ll always come back.”

Logan hesitated before barreling on. Roman laid his heart out, so Logan was going to meet him where he was going. “Did you know that flowers do have their own language, their own certain symbolizations?”

“No. They do?” Roman’s eyes were wide with surprise and earnestness.

“Yes,” Logan nodded. “For example, the rue,” he went over to a small, yellow flower, looking at Roman in askance and getting a small nod, “represents regret, sorrow and repentance.”

He plucked the yellow blossom from its stem.

I’m sorry. I misjudged you. I regret that.

“The pink tulip generally means good wishes, friendship, joyous occasions. And the daffodil means respect, chivalry, uncertainty and new beginnings.”

He wisely left out that the daffodil could also mean unrequited love and hope to return affections.

I hope we can be friends. That there will be joyous occasions in the future. You gained my respect. But I don’t know if you’ll always have it. I hope that you’ll take this as a new beginning.

“The gladiolus,” he wavered over the pink buds before also grabbing a blossom, “means strength of character, honour and conviction.”

What I’m offering you is honest. You have the conviction and stubbornest of a mule. But you’re softer than I realized. You’re stronger than I realized.

“And the pink rose,” his words were soft, Roman hanging on their every syllable, “the pink rose means gratitude, grace and joy.”

Thank you for giving me another chance.

Logan turned around, handing the plucked blooms to Prince Roman who was staring slack-jawed and eyes gleaming. The man accepted the impromptu bouquet without a word, staring down at it with a look of awe.

“What does that one mean?” Roman asked, pointing at a purple flower.

Logan snorted when he saw what it was, “The lobelia, you picked a funny one, your Highness. That one means malevolence.”

Roman pouted, “Well, how was I supposed to know!” he said, bottom lip jutted out dramatically. “Come to think of it, how do you know? This doesn’t seem to be widely known.”

The words weren’t accusing, merely curious. And who was Logan to deny a curious mind? “It’s not. Widely known, I mean. It’s something of a dead language now, I suppose. I was browsing and stumbled upon the book. Needless to say, I was enraptured.”

“And you memorized them all?” The Prince’s voice was filled with awe. “That’s amazing. I can barely remember all of my ancestors' names. And you memorize the language of flowers. Incredible.”

“It’s not so incredible, merely memorization, Your Highness.” Logan denied, flushing slightly.

“Still incredible,” Roman insisted. “And stop with the formalities, we’re friends now, yes? Call me Roman.”

“Then I shall extend the same hand in offer, and insist you call me Logan… Roman,” the name twisted on his tongue, heavy and different, but right.

Roman looked absolutely delighted at that. “You’re a wonder, Logan, a true beauty.”

“I’m really not,” he tried to deny.

“Nope! Uh uh, no denying here, buddy.” Roman carefully launched himself for a hug, making sure not to crush the flowers. “You’re brilliant and fantastic and you should admit it.”

Logan only flushed, burrowing deeper into Roman’s arms to hide his embarrassment.

Roman let go, looking intently at his bouquet before pulling out the pink rose and tucking it behind Logan’s right ear.

That only made Logan flush darker.

Roman’s smile brightened, heart-shaped and earnest. He knocked their shoulders together, letting his hand fall and the flowers to rest in his lap.

They sat next to each other on the marble stone bench, thighs touching, bouquet in laps, two hearts beating wildly.

Someone’s hand moved. Then one was next to each other with pinkys interlacing, and a warmth shared between two bodies, intertwined.

The mood was only helped by the lighting. Romantic, warm, beautiful. The dim lanterns twinkled in the background, setting a warm environment.

The dozens of bushes and hedges of flora grown high and surrounding them in a neat box that was cozy and kind.

Cicadas and crickets and other types of bugs chirped and sang in the moonlight, filling it up with a pleasant background noise.

Quiet and peaceful.

Of course, that was where the peace had to break.

Thundering footsteps against gravel and dirt. Wild flapping of arms. Rocks loosening.

“Your Highness! Your Highness! Roman! Where the fuck are you?”

Roman stiffened, hand falling away. “I’m here, Joan, in my garden!” He called out over the hedges.

A harried noble ran through, nearly tripping in their haste. “Roman, thank the everloving fuck I found you. Urgent news from Advisor Virgil.”

“What is it, Joan?” Roman’s tone was brisk and cold. He stood up to meet the noble’s gaze, hands holding the bouquet delicately. “Explain.”

Joan’s eyes cut to Logan, still sitting next to the other Prince and wearing the pink rose behind his ear.

“Prince Logan is my --- and my trusted friend,” Roman said, catching Joan’s suspicious gaze. Logan heard that word again, and he cursed himself for not being able to translate it into Eiehden. “Anything you need to say to me can be said in front of him.”

“I- yes, of course, Your Highness. It’s just-” Joan hesitated, hands twisted in front of them, voice growing softer.

“What. Joan, what happened?” Roman’s tone, though still brisk, was just that bit kinder.

“His Majesty’s been poisoned!” Joan blurted out, immediately clapping their hands over their mouth, brown eyes pained. “Fuck, I didn’t mean to blurt it out like that.”

Logan stiffened, hands clenched in his lap. His jaw clenched, assassins at the ball. Possibly the work of rogues or a coup. He couldn’t believe that this was happening.

It was supposed to be a good night. They had just reconciled with each other. Logan just started to have a friend. Why was there only pain and misery everywhere he stood?

Roman’s hands went slack, flowers falling soundlessly to the ground and promptly crushed under Roman’s heel as he tread up to Joan, taking them by the shoulders. “What. Happened.”

Quiet and peaceful.

No. There was only noise and chaos.

-----------------------------------------

A/N: The garden scene was drawn by my artist partner @availe Check out her art, it's all fabulous! The flower symbolism I got from here; I decided to stick to one source because meanings always get mixed up and I didn't want to research too deeply and have it conflict with what I wanted Logan to say. Roll credits. Am I forgetting anything...? Oh yeah, hahaha someone is poisoned, lol.

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[marshmallowatheart]

To All The Boys I've Loved Before (Part 13)

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12)

It's easy to get lost in the essence of Logan Echolls, especially when you're snuggled in his arms.

Veronica's relaxed against him, she listens to the conversation and quips in a remark from time to time and when she does, she feels Logan's chest vibrate in laughs and it sends ripples of warmth through her.

She ignores everything past her line of sight and she's got her head focused on the crowd of boys around them.

Next Friday, she's got a soccer game and that's unexpectedly become a line of topic.

When she's asked about the game, she says, "Got a good feeling." They're playing Pan High and she doesn't want to jinx it but she's feeling confident about the game.

"So, boyfriend," she says, bringing his attention to her. "Are you gonna be cheering me on?"

Logan grins - full-blown and toothy - and his eyes are bright with amusement. "Damn straight. The whole crowd will know that Logan Echolls is Veronica Mars' biggest fan. So you know I'll be expecting a goal dedication."

The boys roar at that, excited and teasing like teenage boys are and she laughs, fully and without any reservation. "You know it, babe," she nudges him playfully and winks.

It feels good being wrapped in the arms of Logan Echolls, joking around with the guys and being relaxed. The problem she has is that she doesn't know where's the line between real or fake. And there's the lingering words of Duncan in her mind, coated with her own knowledge that they wouldn't be here if they didn't have reasons - reasons that have nothing to do with liking each other.

--vm--

Logan suggests getting something to eat before taking her home and she shrugs, agreeing because she has time to kill before her curfew and she’s not one to say no to food easily. And well, Logan’s good company but she’s not going to inflate his ego anymore than it already is.

“God, you were amazing tonight. The guys loved you,” Logan says, leaning back on the leather booth and sipping on his chocolate milkshake. “And Lilly was pissed.”

It feels kind of surreal knowing that she’s able to make Lilly Kane jealous - except it’s not really her rather it’s the fact that Logan Echolls is with someone else - still it’s a feeling she’s unfamiliar with but admittedly kinda likes.

“In hindsight, maybe we shouldn’t have pissed her off the day before I have to spend an afternoon with her," she groans as thoughts of the worse possible ways tomorrow could play out fill her mind.

“Veronica Mars, are you saying you’re afraid of Lilly Kane?” His brow arches because he knows Veronica Mars can be a deadly force if she wants to be.

“Well, if she’s so pissed, she’ll certainly be difficult to deal with and honestly I’d rather not deal with her at all.”

His brows furrow and he’s staring at her, considering and intense. “What happened with you guys? You use to be connected to the hip.”

She looks at him like he’s fallen from another planet. “Are you really asking me that?” He gives her a pointed look and she shakes her head, disbelieving. “You’ve had her for all these years and never asked her but you’re asking me?” She huffs.

“High school happened, Logan," she says like it's a known fact. She's thought through the reasons Lilly and her weren't friends before. Puberty. Zip codes. Haves and have nots. And she realised that between 7th and 8th grade the only thing that had changed was Lilly.

"Lilly changed and I didn’t," she gives the only explanation she knows but Logan's looking at her like that's not quite right and she doesn't really know what to feel about it all but she's gone through too much in life to care about people that didn't care about her. "I don’t know. It’s not like we’ve had conversations about it.”

“It was just weird, is all,” he shrugs. He remembers them back when they were kids; happily skipping around, giggling against each others ears whispering secrets and declaring best friends forever.

”Not really,” she grumbles, picking up a french fry and nibbling on it - she wishes that the conversation about Lilly Kane would end.

He's still staring at her like he's trying to figure her out and she wants to just put her head in the hole so he can't attempt to read her thoughts. "Can I ask you a question?"

It's unsettling when someone asks to ask you question. It's nerve-wrecking when the person is Logan Echolls and he's staring at her with deep intensity.

"O-kay," she lets out as casually as she can.

"Why haven't you ever had a boyfriend?"

She stills for a second because it's another conversation she doesn't really know how to have but Logan's still staring at her, awaiting answers that she doesn't really know how to give and she kinda wants to go back to talking about Lilly again.

"I don't know. I guess no one's ever liked me like that," she shrugs and as the words come out, he's already looking at her like she's ridiculous.

"I know that's a lie because I know for a fact Casey Gant asked you to Homecoming last year and you said no."

"Wow, Logan," she blows out. "You know stalking is a criminal offense." His eyes are narrowed on her and she shrugs off his defense. "Casey probably only asked me out to get back to Ashley."

"I'm pretty sure he was into you," he says matter-of-factly. "And I've been hanging out with you, Veronica," his words are softer and deliberate. He's peering closer to her and she feels like he can see into her soul. "I know the only reason you haven't had a boyfriend is by choice."

She feels her heartbeat quicken, her cheeks feel hotter and Logan's not backing away. She doesn't know what it is about Logan Echolls that makes her feel like running away and running to him all at the same time.

She doesn't know what makes her confide in him exactly but she feels safe enough to do so, she feels like he won't judge her.

"I can't control how I feel about people but I can control how I deal with it," she takes a breath, trying to figure out how to explain this all. "You know it feels nice to like someone but it's scary," she softly admits, it's been a long time since she's let herself feel so vulnerable and open to someone other than her family. "Because the more people I let into my life, the more people can just walk right out."

“Like your mom, right?”

It’s a sore subject, one she doesn’t really like to discuss but the whole town knows that the sherrif’s drunk wife fled town leaving him and three little girls behind.

“Yeah," she whispers and nods her head because her whisper is so soft she's not sure he's heard her.

He's silent for a moment, considering and she wonders if he'll let it go now.

“You ever think that you’re better off?” his voice is deep and raw and she looks at him in surprise. She's used to sympathetic apologies and pittiful glaces but she’s never been asked that before.

He lets out a breath, like he's fighting wars with himself. “I always felt that way about my father," he admits, he's surprised at himself for saying it but he lets himself for once.

Veronica didn't know much about Logan's family. She knew what everyone knew; Aaron and Lynn Echolls were Hollywood royalty. He'd cheated on her and during Lynn's Christmas party Aaron Echolls had been stabbed by a psychotic waitress who'd claimed betrayal.

He swallows, like this is hard to talk about but he still wants to talk about it. "He was so fucked up, Veronica. The things he did," he staggers, it's harder to breath when he talks about his father like this. "But I still felt grief for him despite it all. And then it felt like we were better after he was gone," he lets out a shakey breath, he's letting it all out for the first time and then he kinda feels like shit because Veronica doesn't know the monster that Aaron Echolls was.

“I just felt like maybe you'd understand 'cause of your mom. I know it’s not the same thing but -”

“I get it,” she nods, a small appreciative smile on her lips and he instantly feels better - it's been a year and he hasn't said a thing about it to anyone else before and she's sitting across a booth with a soft smile, understanding the demons he doesn't know how to face.

He lets out a breath, a light chuckle. “You say you're scared of commitment and relationships, but you don't seem to be afraid to be with me."

She tilts her head and Logan could very well get lost in her eyes. “Well, there's no reason to be.”

“Yeah? Why's that?” the words flow out of him easily but her answer is something he's desperate to know. It's been awhile since he's expected something from anyone, he wants her to say that he's an exception to the messed up rule her mother created when she left - or something along the lines of how she can trust him. Because he trusts her, so much more than he'd ever wanted to let himself trust anybody.

"Because we're just pretending."

Everything disappears after that. She says it so plainly but it feels like she's standing on his heart and doesn't even know it.

She's not wrong. They are pretending. But everything they've said to each other, that hasn't been fake, he knows it. He wishes she realised it too.

“Right, of course," he bobs his head like he knew that answer all along. "We should get you home, don't want the sheriff getting out his shotgun, do we?"

She feels a heavy ache in her the pits of her stomach, it's not physical pain just the feeling that something is wrong. She doesn't know why she feels like she'd said the wrong thing the moment it was out of her mouth because it's something she's had to remind herself of constantly. It's the way Logan looks at her that makes her wish she'd said something different because even though she knows it was the right answer, it wasn't the whole truth but she doesn't know if she can handle Logan knowing that yet.

[mmmoxielady]

I saw the same thing. The Chelonians, KKK, eugenics dude, lemoyne raiders, O'Driscoll's, the mange riddled brood of murfrees, the abandoned building with dead cult members, etc were all examples as a backdrop of the same cultish mentality that enabled Dutch and Hosea to collect and influence vulnerable people. I like to think Dutch and Hosea actually ran some pretty brilliant heists in their early days. When it was just them, Arthur, John, and Susan. Having less people means they could run tighter jobs with less loose ends to fuck it up.

And it'd be age appropriate for younger versions of them to justify it with Robin hood like ideals. I def think they started out that way bc it let them feel in control in a time that was rapidly changing and pretty chaotic. Keep in mind that their gang would have started literally in the 10 years after the civil war. They were old enough that their fathers would have fought in the war. I don't recall if Hosea actually fought in the war. But they had to grow up the children of veterans or fatherless. With no war of their own to define their generation, they grew up in the ruins of a war. So of course a life of robbing the jerks with power would make young disenfranchised men feel empowered. Given how easy it would have been at this time, it'd have been real easy for anybody in that position to let it go to their head.

I think at some point history changed around them, so the same old plans weren't gonna cut it like they used to. And boosted confidence would make them feel capable enough to take on bigger risks. But circumstances got more complicated than Dutch could count on, so unintended consequences would spoil his plans. It's healthy to learn as you age that if there was a simple solution to these problems, it would have been done already. But rather than get humbled and accept that he's not as gifted at criminal strategy as he thought...or that the world is more complicated than is convenient for him, Dutch learns with each failed heist how validating it feels to have people look up to him and need him. That becomes his loot. The shit gave him self-esteem even when the jobs failed. I like to think this is when his morality starts to change. He picks up Evelyn Miller bc it justifies his changing worldview. So he can lie to himself.

I think Dutch was always at odds with himself over having been so successful when he was younger, while falling increasingly shorter as he gets older. I think this is why he starts collecting vulnerable people. Being needed and important to other people became good enough for him. Adding more people that he knows less and less well makes his half-baked plans just unmanageable enough to guarantee that it's gonna fail often enough that they will stay dependent on him. He gets really abusive and lashes out at anyone who holds him accountable for the ways his oversimplified plans failed everybody. Because that undermines the fragile balance propping up his ego. But fucking loves Micah cause Micah is hyping him up in ways that Dutch hasn't earned. Especially when their actions get people killed.

I think Hosea was always wiser and by rdr2 has learned enough from their patterns that Dutch needs to be handled if only to protect his growing congregation. Hosea wanted to be an actor and is lethal at roasting. Cause he's had to be adept at reading people to get this far. He's read too many newspapers to follow Dutch without question. Hosea was always better at doing his homework to keep up with the changes. He wasn't perfect, but he was open to learning. I think by Colter Hosea knows it doesn't matter what he says or thinks cause nobody listens to him the way they listen to Dutch. Hosea is resigned to the fact that either that cough or that gang was gonna get him killed. So he was all, "Imma keep reading my papers, brushing horses, playing dominoes, and reading TF outta everybody in this camp, while I keep y'all alive cause ain't nobody take me seriously until I roast em."

Not to be controversial but it seems some people do not realize how fucked up the Van Der Linde gang is.

It's much like a cult. Dutch and Hosea (yes, Hosea is not 100% pure) go and find vulnerable people (especially KIDS) and recruit them into the gang with the excuse of helping them, just to use them as tools for their crimes and/or helping with the camp chores. They sell their cause as noble but it really only benefits the gang itself ("robbing from the rich"), and Dutch even writes his speeches to try and keep the gang motivated and loyal to him. They even have a Promised Land ™️ allegory (somewhere far west, then Tahiti etc).

And people can't question Dutch. Or they'd only be reminded how much power he has over them. (remember the dialogue on Clemens Point where John is forced to say "yes, Dutch"?)

And it seems every time Dutch calls someone brother or son is only to explicitly express how much he "cares for them as a family" and make them feel guilty if they were not loyal to him or something. Oh and don't forget Hosea is compliant to all of this, he just prefers to scam people instead of starting a shooting.

Alright that's all, I need to sleep, thanks for coming to my TED Talk

[atmanviv]

Dealing with enemies

1. Hiding facts is no good. You will feel heavenly peace and strength if you share the reality about the enmity and enemies to those who might get affected.

2. If someone or some people is your enemy, be open and let the world know it. Why should you be hypercritical in your attitude towards them? Be straight. No hypocrisy. No closing the eye and drinking milk. Do not disturb your enemy with hypocrisy. Be true.

3. The biggest intention of your enemy will be to make you have fear. And once you fear, ninety percent work of the enemies will be done. So never fear. Fear is death. Fear is sin. Tell it in the face of your enemy that he/she should not expect you to fear you. Say that no attempt of their will make your fearful.

4. The difference between you and your enemies will be, that you will have tremendous patience whereas your enemy will lose patience sooner or later. And one who has the tremendous patience wins.

5. Enemies might commit crime with the fear that you may harm them in future. Fear is the cause of which sin is the result. Or, they may harm you because of jealousy and hatred.

6. Imitating the enemies is no good way. Let them play their game and you follow your own.

7. The enemies might rejoice over your misfortunes. But you need not be unholy and impure.

8. Enemies are like babies who have created a game for themselves where they laugh, enjoy, play around their circle. I should not get disturbed by that.

9. “All my worry and anxiousness is over what they may be thinking, how much they may be laughing seeing my suffering and by seeing my breaking of my ego. I'm not much worried thinking what I think but what they think.”

Just stand aside and let these thoughts and feeling go. Be a witness to the feelings which goes on within you, which you think is wrong.

10. Exposing reduces the chance of evil a lot. If you expose the suspected design of enemies, then the enemies may hardly do that as you and your near and dear ones would have prepared themselves for that.

Enemies do evil only when they knew that you are ignorant. Once they find you have the knowledge, they will hardly do it. E.g., the car which is waiting hundred meters away is meant to kidnap you. Now once you reveal it to the world through your facebook status or through holding a placard that a car having such and such number belonging to such person is waiting for you, the car instead of waiting there for you would run away as fast as it can.

11. The good thing about having strong enemies is that you stay alert and once their mischief starts an energy of alertness comes within you.

12. Should we think of evil, or should we not?

Will we become less intelligent, more vulnerable if we stop thinking of evil?

At the same time Vivekananda says that all truth in the universe will manifest in your heart if you are sufficiently pure.

13. If you could collect intelligence about your enemy, their plans and secrets, from the latter's feelings, words, body language or by some way or the other, then keep doing it. This is a precious talent.

14. Why should I listen to evil? When my enemies speak of evil, it is not true. It is not the true character of a man which Vivekananda has defined. Why not I counter these evil thoughts with the thoughts of strength preached by Vivekananda? So every time the enemies start speaking evil, it will be a practicing session for me. And I must thank my enemies for freely starting the practicing session.

Evil means that which is not true, not correct about the real nature of man.

15. Do not disturb yourself when you hear the laughs of your enemies. Don't try to find out what for they are laughing; whether they are hatching a big conspiracy against you. Firstly, it might just be a psychological trick to demoralize you. They might want you to think of your past misdeeds, embarrassments.

Don't open your mind to these things. If anything comes face it head on.

16. Do not try to disturb the faith of Mr.XYZ (enemy). If you can, give him something better; if you can, get hold of him where he stands and give him a push upwards.

17. Many times the taunts and scoffs and scorns are not genuine. The enemies hardly know the real fact. The intention behind those behavior might simply to hurt you, irrespective of the fact if you had committed mistake or not committed.

They may be in illusion. But you know yourself best. They may think you as weak. But you know what you are. They may be rejoicing over your failures. But you know how to get success. They may be thinking you as a defeated person, but you know how to seek the truth.

If the enemies take your struggle as defeat, it is their problem, and if they are celebrating let them do.

Why should I be in a hurry to seek victory? I've eternity to struggle.

The enemy will try it's best to show you that you are weak and they are strong, that they have power and you don't have power, that they can do and you can't. That they are good and I'm bad. That they must live and I must die.

18. Getting angry even over evil doesn't help.

'Do not open your mind, unless you feel it will be positively essential'.

So, we want, always, positive thoughts, positive ideas, optimism, and everything positive.

19. Do not think of evil things. Why should we think of evil? Do you think you will become less intelligent if you stop thinking of evil? Do you think you will become insecure if you stop thinking evil?

No. No such thing happens.

And even lawyers need not think of evil, because indeed nowhere it is needed.

20. If the enemy grumbles it shows that he is putting more labor in research and analysis over you.

Other subjects

1. Our work should be to communicate to others whatever good things we know and at the same time learn from others whatever good things we can learn.

2. He who loves is a fortuitus fellow, also he who is in love he too is a fortuitus fellow. And is a happy man too.

3. It is better to die making effort to live than to die without.

4. It is better to live in the struggles of life than like stocks and stones. But peace is higher than all these.

5. A friend is one who has power to bring a genuine smile on your face. And you know that the cost of a smile is very high.

People are always open to good and genuine friendship.

Everyone has a story. Everyone has an encyclopedia within him/her.

6. The pure soul, the unselfish heart sees truth, speaks truth. It is only from such person from whose heart genuine appreciation comes.

7. The great fact: 'Strength is life, weakness is death'.

Whatever is strong, lives on; whatever is weak is liable to die.

8. When you come face to face with any crisis think only strong thoughts, positive thoughts, helpful thoughts, till the last breath.

9. Love teaches patience.

10. 'Take heart and work'.

Put your heart in to the work you do. Whatever work you do put your whole heart in to it.

11. Crime in India is growing because of corruption in judiciary and because of corrupt governments. If there is corruption there will be no justice. Investigation is not done properly so the real culprits are not booked.

When someone doesn't get justice, he/she many times takes law in to his/her hand. And in this way crime grows.

12. Give equal respect and equal attention to one and all. Never make any distinction between high and low.

13. No one can teach you, you've to teach yourselves.

No one can help you; you've to help yourself.

14. As experience is the only teacher, therefore, 'less-good things', and crime are the reality of life.

15. You never really learn from others. Whatever you read, you simply refresh what you had already learned from yourself.

Whatever you read is simply refreshing your own consciousness, which you were aware already.

16. Love forgives all and everything. Love bears all and everything. Love loves all and every good thing. When love comes to your heart and soul and mind, you realize the highest peace. And life turns in to a lovely song for you, which you go on singing. The highest truths, the highest knowledge, automatically comes to your heart, the highest secret is revealed in your heart.

This is what love does. Whether love comes within you for a person or for the humanity at large.

17. Stick to your words because experience is the only teacher.

18. When the temptation of doing those wrong things comes in to your heart, say "no" firmly to yourself. Because experience has taught you that those were wrong.

19. Fear is the cause of sin. Many times, someone attacks you first because he/she thinks you might attack him/her now or in future. They think if you live, you might harm them in future. So they want you dead.

20. Throw self (feeling of shy, etc) overboard, and exercise, for the sake of good health.

21. The joy of friendship: While being with the friend you forget all your pain and sorrow; all animosity, fear, troubles. You get tremendous amount of happiness.

22. It's true, in life there is nothing fixed. But there should be fixed time to go to bed and to get up. The good old,.. early to bed and early to rise....

23. Do not disturb yourself by vain criticism. Even if it seems thought provoking, intelligent criticism; and even if it is from a very learned person.

24. Everyone justifies their action as the best. Nobody likes to do anything lesser. Each one is right from his own perspective.

25. Now I'm ready to commit mistakes in future, un-intentionally, and thereby learning from those examples, without making myself disheartened.

26. The person who had invented airplane have never had a business class trip. So just because you are not there to see the future, you should not give what you are supposed to give. Be fearless and express yourself.

A mother gives birth to a baby but in future many people love that child, other than the mother, as it grows up and becomes a man, even in some cases more than the mother. So your idea can be even used more better than you who have discovered that.

27. We give second thought to that which interests us, which is pleasurable, which draws our attention. And when we know that we are in everything, that God and good is in everything, then that (anything) turns in to our subject of interest.

28. The reality of the world: We know what AIDS, Covid-19 is, yet millions get infected with it each year.

29. Re-discover all the knowledge of the reality (everything).

30. Witness what's going on in your mind and in your emotion and note those down.

31. Give your message. Do not vainly argue with anyone. Though you may be having a better message than him yet do not always impose your views.

32. One can be inspired and suggested for some work. But it is hard to exactly recommend and prescribe someone for a particular work. The choice is obviously up to that person.

33. Many thoughts and worries will make you anxious. Do not care for those troubles. Let them come. Do your duty, or your studies. Do them well, in perfection. Then take one trouble. Put all the teachings of Vivekananda over it. Put all your effort to solve it, to get rid of it. Do every possible legal work which is necessary to solve it, every good and great deed. And in no time that trouble will be over. And then go to the next one.

If a person can take one step, he or she can take hundred steps too. If you can solve one problem you can solve hundreds of problems.

34.

Swami Vivekananda

1. Whatever resources you use for your enjoyment and pleasure, shift those resources to fulfil the basic needs of poor.

3. If Vivekananda gives an easy way to rise faster just by obeying his commands and words, then why should one not go for it?

4. You are in control of your mind. You are in power whether to use it on something or not.

5. Re-live Vivekananda. Do not leave living on a single word said by him. This life is an opportunity.

You progress tremendously faster with the help of a Guru.

6. When you are to take decision on something, first refer Vivekananda's message and filter everything through it. Then your thoughts is safe to apply.

7. The sayings of Vivekananda are the most precious things which one can find on earth and in heaven.

8. Swami Vivekananda didn't live for himself even for a sec. He lived and worked so that whoever follows his sayings get salvation.

9. You just need to sail smoothly along with Vivekananda's words, and obey everything he says. This is all there is to do.

10. Our body is our enemy and yet is our friend. People do crime by being dragged by emotion and even pass whole of life behind bar. Over here our body makes us do sin; over here our body is our enemy.

Society expects us not to let our emotion rule over us.

11. "Live for an ideal and leave no place in mind for anything else".

So, what's that ideal you are currently living on?

12. "Work like lions". Following this ideal gives you strength to work and you work like lions even though you would have got some pain from your enemies.

13.