#Even the people who tolerate me it feels like they have to psych themselves up before talking to me and then take a mental health day after

[fragglerockopinions]

I am so sorry I am genuinely so exhausting to be around I have no idea how to fix it

[liketwoswansinbalance]

On the Subject of "All-Kinds-of-Fur:"

Link to the original Brothers Grimm fairy tale for reference. It's basically a variant of "Cinderella."

Also, if I have the inspiration for it, this could become part of a series, set during the peaceful days before the prequel events. Thus, if anyone would like to send in a request for the School Master brothers' reactions to a classic fairy tale or an SGE one, however obscure it may be, I might write it!

⸻

[Rhian enters the tower chamber looking distressed while Rafal is grading fourth-year students' theses on treachery, taboos, and the natural lines of family, that, when wrongly crossed, drive people insane and disrupt the fragile human psyche.

For an example of this so-called phenomenon (stolen from the plot of Hamlet), imagine a scenario as follows: a wife marries her husband's brother after her husband dies. While they may not be blood relations, this scenario is still off and rather strange, even if modern times could make more allowances for such a thing to occur and be socially-acceptable.]

Rhian: My fourth-year Class Captain had to run away whilst on her questing assignment!

Rafal: [absently, without looking up from the papers, slashing through lines in bloodred ink] Mm, shame. [He sips his tea.]

Rhian: [tries to smile but it looks uneasy and he begins to pace with anxiety.] No! It's... good... I suppose. [He cringes.] If she hadn't run into the Woods last night, she would've had to marry her father!

Rafal: [spits out his tea.] Who's her father? Not one of my graduates, surely. Even my curriculum standards rise above that, that rot.

Rhian: No, it's not one of yours. Simply some brazen king. I just... I wish I could do something. She was one of my best students. [He sighs dejectedly.] But I doubt the Pen will tolerate an intervention. We just have to let her tale play out.

Rafal: Well, is it worth working yourself up over? She got away. Maybe it's you who's too invested in your students’ lives. They can fend for themselves, you know... well, probably. Actually, some Evergirls can be dimwitted. [He pauses.] How about this?: you always have the option of throwing her a lovely funeral.

Rhian: Oh, forget it. I don’t expect you to understand. [He throws up his arms, flustered, and exits the room.]

[Rafal observes that his brother still looks rather sad. In fact, Rhian grows more worried with each passing day as the Storian writes of the poor girl's travails as a forlorn scullery maid in hiding.]

⸻

[Several months later, three days and three nights after each night of the ball and banquet in the Evergirl's fairy tale:]

Rhian: [elatedly, swelling with hope] Rafal! Rafal! Have you heard? My Class Captain might live to see her Happily Ever After! The young king is going to save her! She’s danced with him three nights in a row and he would take no other partner. Though, each night, she slips away and conceals herself in that hideous, asymmetrical coat. You've seen the Pen's illustrations, haven't you? And last night, she wore a dress that glistened like the stars! I just knew the Beautification Practice While Impoverished classroom simulations would pay off! I knew it! It's the sheer magic of what a little soap and water can achieve!

Rafal: [not listening to Rhian's enthusiastic raving] Uh-huh.

Rhian: [finally looks at Rafal more closely after his lackluster response.] Say, Rafal? Where did that patchwork blanket come from? Is it new? I feel like I’ve seen it before. Somewhere... [he muses.]

Rafal: [shrugs without looking up from his book.] Nowhere. You’re not still… sad about that tale, are you? It’s old news. And the Storian's been still about that tale for a good few hours. Maybe it'll be scrapped, storybook and all.

Rhian: [grits his teeth in frustration] Yes. I know. You weren't listening.

Rafal: [expressionlessly] Wasn't I? Regardless, Happily Ever Afters don't concern me.

Rhian: [tongue-tied, attempting to come up with a fitting retort] An-and, you need a good douse of soap and water too. You've got... soot and—is that walnut oil all over your hands?

Rafal: [rolls his eyes.]

⸻

[The next day:]

[Rhian devours the completed tale in one sitting and notices a discrepancy he assumes is a continuity error by the Storian: the vagabond princess disguised in the role of a scullery maid returned to her little cubbyhole below stairs to find that her coat, which she’d left in the shadows, had disappeared, seemingly stolen.

Perhaps, a creature of the night had made off with it, desperate to reclaim its skin.

Or perhaps, there had been an intervention.

Thus, the princess was forced to show her true, shining self to the king’s men hunting her down. In her gown, that gleamed like the stars, much like a bride's.

And Rhian has a feeling he knows why this Ending came to be.]

⸻

[A week later:]

Rhian: [enters, humming about wedding bells to himself.]

Rafal: You look well. Did something go right?

Rhian: Yes! Something nice came in the post today, brother. My former student and the young, foreign king have invited us to their wedding. And look! Even you got an invitation, too. [He laughs to himself and makes a face of mock fright, lowering his voice and gnarling his hands into claws.] Whooo, they probably didn't want the Evil brother to curse them during a christening someday, so you'll probably get a golden plate and sweetmeats to spare at the wedding feast in order to "appease" you.

Rafal: [glares at him.]

Rhian: [drops the act.] Ahem. Anyway, we’ve got to pack for spring in Altazarra. Bring some non-black, festive clothes, if you have any. Oh, and bring a less ugly coat than that scruffy old blanket, will you?

Rafal: I’m not attending. I don’t like inane balls or sentimental Ever Afters, but have fun.

Rhian: Are you sure about that?

Rafal: Positively.

Rhian: [holds up an illustration of the princess' cubbyhole from the tale he’s been scrutinizing for the last few days.] Then what’s this shadow the Storian’s inked in darker than the rest? It looks quite a lot like a human form.

Rafal: Trick of the light. Just be glad Evil didn’t prevail this time, and call it a day. My side will win next time to be sure.

Rhian: [smirks knowingly] I guess I owe my peace of mind and sanity to a thief then.

Rafal: [deadpans] Run along, Ever. Pip-pip. You've got a wedding to attend, have you not?

[aspd-culture]

hey, i've really enjoyed this blog so i want to make absolutely sure: your stance on endogenic systems is "they have trauma, they just don't know it"?

Yep. If someone is genuinely a system, that is incompatible with having no trauma. If someone genuinely did not have trauma, they by our current scientific understanding cannot be a system.

That said, unlike many other people with this take, I try not to push endos to realize that because if they were ready to, their system would have told them. I know *multiple* people who identified as "endo" before remembering their trauma when they were ready to and realizing they were very wrong.

I also know people who formerly identified as "endo" but realized that trauma to a child can be things as "simple" as a divorce or death of a very important person in their family etc. It's not always super intense abuse. Whilst that is much more likely to cause a system it is in no way impossible to see it from things that are not commonly thought of as traumatic. It's a great time to acknowledge this actually because it's true of every trauma disorder - childhood trauma is inherently going to be different than adult trauma because children are less resilient with less life experience and their brains are still in development so they are much less likely to "bounce back". It gets cemented in their development that pain like this is part of the world and they need to develop ways to cope.

The things that an adult believes they cannot manage to survive, and therefore need to change the way their brain functions to tolerate, has a *much* higher threshold than the same for a child because a child has not seen proof of what the human brain and body can survive. Further, a child hasn't developed the ability to emotionally support themselves, so emotional neglect can make it so what in no way even upsets a child with a support system may feel unsurvivable to a child without any. If you didn't know how much blood you could lose and still live, you would think the smallest scratch might kill you - that's what life is to a child.

All of that is to say, systems don't need to have lived through unspeakable horrors to be systems, but they *do* need to have some sort of trauma as far as we currently know. If you look into adverse child experiences (ACEs), you will probably be surprised as to what counts as traumatic in the mind of a child. I cannot stress enough that a kid may become traumatized enough to develop a system from almost *any* normal negative part of life if they have no emotional support to teach them how to adjust and handle pain. That is where, in that case, the system would come in - to be the ones helping them process and handle pain since no one else is.

If the psych community were to find in multiple repeatable studies that there is a reason for non-traumagenic systems to develop, I would change my stance because I know that psych knowledge especially has a very short half-life. We learn new things all the time. But for what we currently know about how systems develop, they cannot do so without some type of sustained trauma.

If that affects your enjoyment of this blog, I'm not sure what to say. It is not common that systems even get discussed here, though it does come up sometimes because both are trauma disorders (with ASPD being infrequently purely genetic I think?). When it does come up - because all of this blog besides the culture asks are based in current psych knowledge, the DSM/ICD, and my personal anecdotes - you will see my understanding in my discussions of it. It's not to alienate anyone, but it's no different than someone asking me to say something currently believed to be factually wrong about ASPD for their comfort; I can't and won't do that.

I don't mean to come off hostile, this is all /neutral, it's just that I hate the idea that an ASPD blog that is helpful or enjoyable to someone might in some way have that positive impact affected by a currently accepted truth about a completely unrelated disorder.

Is it right of me to take that out on you though my tone? No, because you're not the one causing that emotion bc I don't even particularly know your stance on this. Unfortunately though, despite rewriting this post like 3 times, I cannot seem to get the /neutral tone to come across properly. Just... please understand it is there because my autism is not letting me phrase it right.

[pie-of-flames]

Beatles Break Up

New here, nobody knows me but I have opinions, so I'm answering this question.

10. If you were going to blame a single person for the Beatles' break-up, who would it be?

I'm new to the fandom and not the most knowledgeable person, but my current opinion is mostly John. (#something happened in India). Brian's death plus John's marriage falling apart plus whatever happened in India sent John into a downward spiral. We know he was deeply depressed in the latter part of the India trip and after his return to England. I think everything he did after that was his attempt to deal with his emotional pain, including hooking up with Yoko, doing heroin and latching onto Klein as a savior. Those things lead to the breakup.

I think that he probably had borderline personality disorder. (Caveat: not a psychologist, but I have personal experience that informs my conclusion.) People with BPD latch onto a "favorite person" on whom they're dependent for mental well-being. PAUL, then YOKO. They have no internal sense of self or identity, so they depend on others to create it. (PAUL and THE BEATLES, then YOKO) Consequently, they easily feel rejected based on imagined slights. Their psyche can't tolerate their favorite person (or others) rejecting them. Once they feel rejected, they have to do a 360 and reject the favorite person in turn to protect themselves from that all-consuming feeling of rejection, which is a threat to their sense of self. They find "evidence" to support this rejection story and fully believe in it even if it has no basis in reality.

Does this sound like anybody we know?

John - see his comments all through the 70's and his continuing obsession with Paul years after the fact. Also fear of abandonment is a common obsession of those with BPD. You can easily see how this fits John. (Parents rejecting him, always afraid of being abandoned.) People with BPD commonly suffered childhood trauma. They also commonly use drugs and alcohol to self-medicate and fill the emptiness inside. They take absolutely everything personally. And they can't put themselves in other people's shoes at all. They're incapable of it.

They also feel emotions intensely, way more intensely than most people. It's difficult for average people to understand. The emotions can be overwhelming, sometimes to the degree that every day life is difficult. (and drugs are a great way to dull those emotions). They just can't handle things the way most people can. Also they have no boundaries because they need to fully mesh with someone to feel OK.

Something happened in India™ that made it intolerable for John to keep Paul as his "favorite person." It could just have been that Paul left early and John read that as personal rejection when he wasn't feeling well mentally. Someone with BPD could definitely have reacted that way and justified their emotional reaction with a bunch of made-up stuff. Or maybe he did approach Paul sexually and Paul rejected him. John was probably also threatened by Paul's engagement to Jane. Whatever it was, it's reasonable to interpret his subsequent behavior as trying to move on from Paul as his "favorite person."

Yoko had been pursuing John for a long time after she didn't get anywhere with Paul. Here she was, offering herself up as a way out of John's dilemma. He immediately latched on to her like a lifesaver. Which she literally was. He couldn't tolerate the situation he was in emotionally. She could provide him a new identity, apart from Paul. I mean, John and Yoko spent one night together and suddenly were soulmates and creative partners? Who does that? Someone with BPD.

Then she got him hooked on heroin. Heroin allowed him to escape the Paul and Beatles situation and mesh more fully with Yoko. And once he was addicted, it took over his life. He was literally incapable of fully engaging with Paul and the Beatles, and it made creating music more difficult. He grew more reliant on Yoko to navigate life for him and to be a partner in addiction. (eg speaking for John in Get Back meeting) The other Beatles couldn't understand him any more and he'd cut himself off from them with his Yoko and heroin obsessions. In Episode 1 of Get Back, he's not really there. He looks totally out of it and barely interacts. He definitely looks high at some points. He rebounds in the later episodes - the change is remarkable and I wonder if he's taking some other drug to counteract the effects.

He wanted Paul to save him, but Paul decided he wouldn't/couldn't. It's not clear what exactly John wanted Paul to do, but bringing Yoko to the studio etc, was a clear provocation. Having her right next to him constantly while they were trying to work? Who does that? Someone with no boundaries who has insatiable emotional needs. who wants to show their former "favorite person" that they can survive without them with a new "favorite person." Maybe Paul was tired of dealing with John's needs after a dozen years. Dealing with BPD people is difficult and exhausting. I suspect if Paul had "saved" him, the Beatles wouldn't have broken up in the way they did. But maybe it was too late.

"Walking on eggshells" is a common experience for people close to a BPD sufferer, who often explodes and has temper tantrums caused by their overwhelming, intense emotions. Maybe Paul didn't want to confront John about Yoko or anything else because he was afraid John would blow up or quit on the spot. Drug use exacerbates the emotional rollercoaster.

A healthy person could've stayed in the Beatles and had a new relationship at the same time. But John couldn't because being in the Beatles meant being confronted with Paul's perceived rejection of him, not to mention his jealousy of Paul's musical ability and feeling bad about himself. (Paul has a million song ideas, creates Get Back, Let It Be and Long and Winding Road practically instantaneously, while John has almost nothing, Paul always asking him for songs.)

Anyway, I think John's heroin addiction is crucial to the break up. An addict isn't emotionally available, they only care about the drug (and for John, Yoko by extension), they feel lousy when they're not high and they don't have good judgment.

Which brings me to Klein. Klein knew how to flatter John and appeal to his needs but in addition, John needed to be rescued. Klein promised to do that. Brian had always taken care of everything and now he wasn't there. (These guys had never had to be functioning adults! They went from being teens to gigantic superstars who had everything done for them. Their accountant bought their houses! They never carried cash!) The combination of intense emotional need plus addiction got in the way of John being able to see Klein for what he was; he ignored the warning signs that Klein couldn't be trusted. Yoko supported this because she seems to have never even liked the Beatles and wanted John to go out on his own with her? (Just surmising. I don't know much about her.)

Obviously, things happened over time that made the situation worse, but John caused the trajectory towards breakup, IMHO. I think he suffered from serious mental illness made worse by drug use. He became unmoored when his pillars of semi-stability eroded - Brian and Cynthia and (something happened in India™} Paul. His mental illness made the situation emotionally intolerable for him and he had to extract himself, leading to Yoko and heroin. Those things, in turn, lead to further separation from and difficulty communicating with Paul and the band. Etc etc. etc.

[hikeyzz]

https://www.tumblr.com/hikeyzz/732190196144226304

can u explain a little more abt what u meant in the tags of this? i am still newish to kink and wanna do it in as healthy a way as i can

I am not an authority on kink and will not be speaking as such. I am still learning a lot myself. You should be consuming a variety of media on kink to learn more and determine what healthy practices look like for you. But I will explain my comment about harm vs hurt which I think is what this is about.

I was thinking specifically in terms of kinks that do cause pain/discomfort to at least one participant, things like impact play, biting, breath play, and more can all cause pain and hurt. Harm can go in many ways, though. But generally harm is accepted as things that cause damage, physical or emotional. In the context of kink we can imagine hurt and harm as two ends of the continuum. Because something like spanking with a bare hand may hurt, but spanking with a hard implement could break bones and damage nerves which would be harm. I cannot define for anyone where they draw their personal line between hurt and harm in their play. But since they are on a continuum, it is reasonable to believe hurt can slip into harm, with or without intention to cause damage.

This is most applicable with higher risk kinks like edge play, psychological sadism, breath play, and others that do risk semi-permanent or permanent damage to the receiver. I see posts all the time about carving your name into your partner's skin and for some it's just a fantasy, for others it is something they are interested in playing out in real life or have and enjoyed it enough to do it again. That is something that causes physical damage and potentially permanent damage, but is within the realm of what the receiver tolerates and enjoys. There are several levels to harm and I think it is something people have to explore for themselves and develop a deep sense of self-awareness around.

For example, I enjoy being made to feel as though my value as a person is tied to my ability to be sexual (sexual objectification). However, I draw the line at my partner trying to make me believe that's true. I want to feel like it could be true, but not believe that it is. That's hard to navigate at times so I am constantly evaluating the levels of hurt and harm I am asking my partner to inflict, or what they are asking to inflict on me. Down to the words they use, I think through how they make me feel and what I believe when I am with them. Do they make me feel like a sex object? Or do I believe they only see me as a sex object? Again, it's deeply personal and requires an ability to articulate your feelings and beliefs in great detail. But that is how I responsibly navigate my relationship to hurt versus harm, with the line I draw being that changing my beliefs causes damage to my psyche and harms me. But influencing my feelings only hurts me, and is something I enjoy playing with.

I have conducted these check-ins with myself and found that I have allowed (or not noticed) when play has slipped from hurt to harm. Sometimes it can be corrected through dialogue and additional safety practices, other times like when it has intentionally been driven from hurt to harm, I need to walk away and tend to myself. I come up with boundaries that can help me prevent slippage like that from happening again, using what I can learn from others and my personal reflections (in therapy and out - yes I talk to my therapist about kink and you should too).

I hope this helps clarify what I meant and you continue to question and explore kink safely and without rush. I promise you will have much better experiences if you go forward slowly and methodically. Even doing so will piss off the bad-actors who want you to feel like they're your only or best choice. Nothing pisses off abusive people like someone that is intentional and questions everything. The right people will appreciate and understand your caution, trust me. Best of luck.

ETA: I welcome discussion in the replies and feel free to offer (respectfully) different perspectives that may help anon or myself learn further 💗

[boricuacherry-blog]

On NFR! Del Rey is at her most instantly compelling, a pro asserting her future spot in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, as her closest peer and rival Stefani Germanotta did with her turn in A Star is Born. Words like "classic" and "greatest" adhere to her now; she writes sings that use them unironically. The possibly fictional shade whose fluttery alto flickered and beckoned on YouTube nearly a decade ago is a woman now - "a modern day woman with a weak constitution," she intones on the album's billowing final track, "hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have - but I have it." That's one of several moments in which Del Rey seems to open herself up; another is the melancholy "Mariners Apartment Complex," four and a half minutes of gospel-inflected transcendence in which her pastiche is so perfectly constructed that it becomes flesh, an utterly believable plea by a weary but steadfast soul to the lover whose tether she refuses to loose. It's a story about which most people can feel something.

gardener of the weediest patches of the contemporary psyche. On NFR! she remains that artist, even as she asks herself if she might, with insight, better compartmentalize her impulses.

you want to do," Lana continues. "I hear that you like the bad girls, honey, is that true?" And so a dream of romantic fulfillment slipped into self-negation, the way it has since time immemorial in the scripts that young women learn from those songs and from movies, their moms, other girls and the boys who benefit. The tone of her voice as she uttered these words was forever after labeled "sad," but was really something different. My mom would have called it "needy"; today, more common descriptions are "disempowered," "self-sabotaging," "unwoke."

"Women hated me," Del Rey told writer Alex Frank in 2017. "I know why. It's because there were things I was saying that either they just couldn't connect to or were maybe worried that, if they were in the same situation, it would put them in a vulnerable place."

But we know this. Over the course of her five albums, as she has learned to be a more specific writer and a more adventurous vocalist and to make room in her echo-saturated arrangements for her words to resonate, Del Rey has continued to stand firmly against the ideal of self-empowerment. Instead, she has explored what happens when women call themselves children; when they stumble in high heels; when they put the love of a man before all.

Mostly, critics have perceived this as an anti-feminist stance. Lindsay Zoladz sympathetically recontextualized in a cogent 2017 essay, seeing Del Rey's embodiment of the weak woman as an antidote to "empowerment as the default aspiration of the pop star" - the tendency of chart toppers from Beyoncé to Taylor Swift to configure their careers as one long therapeutic, vaguely political pep talk.

Del Rey herself simply said she found feminism uninteresting. She's modified that stance somewhat in the aftermath of the #metoo movement, citing Trump's infamous "grab 'em" remark as a sign that sexuality has been weaponized beyond even her tolerance levels. Yet even on NFR!, an album some writers have extolled as a (circuitous) form of protest, Del Rey remains much more invested in describing how people - mostly women - fall apart, how they take risks or otherwise work against their own best interests in the pursuit of pleasure, intimacy and what she still guilelessly calls "love."

To many of its champions, NFR! is Del Rey's revenge against those who would misinterpret her, offering a critique of 21st Century decadence rather than another chance to wallow in it, an "obituary for America" that still extends some hope that, with the proper perspective, its best qualities can be redeemed.

The album describes an affair with a fellow artist in which the power roles never solidify, a situation Del Rey depicts as unsustainable but clarifying - trading in her kitten heels for kicks. These are the cleanly satisfying moments of the album, evoking what we expect from singer-songwriters like Joni Mitchell or Tori Amos, both of whom are clear inspirations in Del Rey's pursuit of legible expressiveness. She and [producer and co-writer] Jack Antonoff don't try to imitate Mitchell's tricky musical fusions, but they do invoke the finely honed confidentiality of Amos' music, and similar moods (Fiona Apple is another obvious source of inspiration.)

The power of NFR! emanates from the compulsion to collapse logic, to violate musical boundaries, through imagery and within storytelling. On their own, her lyrics often read as unremarkable and derivative. What hooks the listener is the way she enacts her dramas just as the mind replays formative memories, especially painful ones. She repeats herself. She veers into cliché. Her touchstones fall into each other across time.

Mitchell's lyric reads as poetic and incisive. Next to it, Del Rey's feels uncooked. Musically, "Cold Blue Steel" also strikes the listener as much more sophisticated, with its subtle arrangement and a melody that sinuously moves from folk to jazz.

Yet, let Del Rey's song sink in, and it offers its own revelations - emotional, like Mitchell's, but less clearly mediated. The simplicity and directness of "Cinnamon Girl" hits as its leaden rhythm seems to grow more elastic. A syn-drum keeps the narcotized time as a string section puddles around it. Del Rey moans her lyrics in a small voice, almost pleading but also self-soothing. Sometimes she makes a trilling leap that sounds like the squiggle of one of the vintage synths Antonoff employs - a sign of her indebtedness to West Coast hip-hop, whose smudged arrangements and stoned cadences she often assimilates.

The whole effect is slippery, unattached to the process of telling a story. The song feels more like you're in a story, in someone's head at a particularly unsure moment. Del Rey accesses the twin realms of Surrealism and the psychoanalytic most often through their cinematic manifestations, such as film noir and its latter-day revival, especially within the work of David Lynch.

It's also worth remembering that Del Rey's first debts were to hip-hop and post-punk, and noticing how crucial those sources remain even as she nods more noticeably toward Laurel Canyon.

[eumelodeum]

boom boom boom

the AI boom "replacing" artists and writers and massive tech layoffs feel interconnected

back in the late 2010s, I used to envy those who worked in the tech industry because they got six figs, catered food, foosball tables, and are able to afford houses, but now...

it just feels like the emperor has no clothes because each tech employee is probably only working on one project regarding one function of one application, at least at the larger established tech companies where you're not expected to rock the boat. tech slander, i know

there's so much technochauvinism, the belief that technology is superior to humankind and will save us all - when it's clear that technology is nothing but a mirror that exacerbates existing human emotions like rage and existing human problems like wealth inequality. no shit, lol tech was built by humans to make human life easier??

people who worked in tech and white-collar jobs seemed to give me the hardest time when I wanted to be a nurse, with comments like "you really want to clean up people's poop?" and "why not be a doctor" and it opened my eyes to the ways that these people actually regard essential workers, physical laborers, and blue-collar workers. not well haha. and now, having learned more about work sectors like childcare, education, customer service, carpentry, public transit, and construction, I've come to the conclusion that these are the people who keep society running and aren't compensated for the sheer physical labor they do and the amount of people they benefit. and that's fucking wild to me. hats off to the bartender who poured me a shot on the house when i came in at like 9pm on a saturday telling her about how a patient damn near lunged at me earlier at work bc he wasn't being seen by a provider fast enough. game recognize game

like, these middle to upper-class wannabe elite family friends are really showing their asses. if they're willing to disrespect essential workers so much that they didn't want me to become one, how much mistreatment of people unlike themselves are they willing to tolerate without batting an eye?

there are obviously a lot of problems with healthcare and a lot of toxicity in nursing, but i've proud to be a nurse. I've met some cool nurses and I'm proud of the strong labor union history in the nursing profession. being a nurse has definitely given me a lot more wisdom, grace, and bystander intervention knowledge, even though i am so tired lol

also, bringing the topic back to tech - there are many nurses who are woefully unskilled with technology and I think the outdated nursing educational curriculum built off of paper charting is to blame, and maybe also the focus on physical skills in the training of new nurses. but, there is a lot more promise in health tech on the horizon and i think more nurses should be tech literate to address certain challenges. like, we can do remote BP monitoring throughout the day now and analyze trends, and psych telemedicine visits that reduce barriers to mental health care access. again, bringing the convo back to technology being created by humans, it should be used to help humans live better lives if possible!

[provendermalkin]

Like to be crystal clear the stated goal, having read their entire blog and watched their videos, is to find ways to detransition people and prevent people from starting or completing transition.

I'm sure the authors ARE ~lgbtq~. Being gay/trans/nb/whatever doesn't preclude prejudice, even against other gay or trans people. How many gay men think lesbians are fat hairy worthless bitches, do you think? It's not a small number, I can tell you that much. They're not any less lesbophobic or misogynistic just because they like other men. Idpol cannot be your only metric for whether something is sincere or trustworthy.

Sorry, but your "research" is intended to push the belief that you can be "turned" trans, or that it's like a gateway drug the scary trannies are indoctrinating poor innocent cishets with, or that trans girls are all helpless little autistic victim babies too stupid and impaired to understand their own choices, or that one person going through a period of self-exploration and regretting some of it means that millions of trans people suffering suicidal agony because they're being demonized and denied care should have to keep living like that until enough protestant fag-haters feel like they've jumped through enough hoops.

detransitioned people do deserve understanding, but it's not any different to my mind than some teen or 20-something experimenting with gay sex and concluding that they didn't like it or coming away from it with negative feelings and regret. That happens with straight sex, too, along with many other types of weighty personal choice. Does that mean we need to protect children from "the gay agenda"?

if you don't have the right to do what you want to your own body, what right DO you have? should tattoos require a psych eval? piercings? gauges? what about botox? do I need a letter from six doctors and a priest absolving me to get hair implants or plastic surgery? if I decide to dye my hair until it rots right out of my skull, am I a "victim" who needs hair dye banned to protect me? if I need facial reconstruction surgery or to correct a pallette cleft, do I need to prove I'm good and smart and normal enough to make that kind of choice? Or does it only count when you're doing something "freaky" and not something intended to carve you into something more normal and desirable, like correcting deformities, removing scars, suctioning out fat and cutting off skin, or plastic surgery?

You know what the shit trans people have to go through reminds me of? The disability people making us bring my low-functioning little brother in to be gawked at like a circus animal over and over again while they hmm-ed and haw-ed as to whether he was REALLY impaired or just "faking" being "a r*tard," their words. Why should anybody be expected to tolerate being poked and prodded and evaluated and judged again and again and AGAIN just to get medical care that isn't anybody else's business ANYWAY?

physical transition isn't used in kids under 16 unless all other feasible avenues have been explored already. puberty blocking is easily reversible and used all the time for medical reasons in cis kids, and restricting them is actively harming disabled cis kids and fucking up their lives, right now at this very moment. restricting gender confirmation procedures and access to care behind dehumanizing and continuous judgement based on bigoted, white, right-wing, western standards of "performing gender correctly" is inhumane.

The fact is that even if the statistic were 5% or fuck it, 10% detransitioning instead of the numerically proven 0.7%, I would rather provide care to the 90% who are suffering than force millions to endure pointless anguish and humiliation "just in case" somebody wishes they didn't get themselves tits later.

you know what the fix for that is?

gender confirmation treatment, lmao

Have you experienced shifts in your identity after transitioning? You may be eligible for a study conducted by a team of LGBTQ researchers.

Participants must meet the following eligibility criteria: 

-aged 16 and older

-living in the United States or Canada

-have ever discontinued a gender transition* or detransitioned

-desiring to detransition but feel unable to take steps

*We define gender transition as social, legal, and/or medical interventions used to affirm a trans/nonbinary identity. People who have desisted are eligible to take the survey.

The survey is available at:  thedarestudy.com

[mrsmorality]

so, the best books i’ve read in my whole life so far:

- captive prince [trilogy]: of course i have to debut the list with them (even if the order of the books doesn't match my order of preference). it was simply the first that came to my mind, so commendable and memorable is the story. if you haven't read it yet, do it NOW. the best enemies to lovers of all the time, with a development worthy of a round of applause and a strong and supportive relationship on both sides. yes, captive prince. you know you’ll always be on my mind!

- the song of achilles: yeah. i could never forget this one. is the most realistic love story i have ever laid my eyes on, full of obstacles and sacrifices. i really liked what the author did here, abandoning the historical narrative that achilles and patroclus were just friends or even relatives. she gave a whole new meaning to the story, never failing to keep the original line. there isn't ONE thing about this book that doesn't fill my eyes. the best childhood best friends to lovers, showing their relationship since they were just friends in childhood, to the blossoming of feelings that went beyond fraternal affection, and the way they handled it as they grew up. it's beautiful. i really love it

- all for the game [trilogy]: i mean. of course this story could never be missing from my favorites list. what i like the most about the story is what's hidden behind the relationship between the characters. their feelings aren't obvious and usual, and if you're looking for a light story, this isn't for you. it's all heavy: the way they relate to each other, the way they deal with their own problems, their pasts. they’re broken people trying to put the pieces together, trying to figure out what to do with the glue they were offered. even so, they still find room in their minds to care (in distorted, but still, care) for their friends, teammates, lovers, and family members; they still protect each other, like one big dysfunctional family. everything about this book is not in the narrated words, but in what lies behind them: what lies behind each moment, each pause and each action. it is obvious, but subliminal, almost hidden. i love it. really. the complexity behind each character, his shaken psyche -- it's all breathtaking, it's all about keeping the attention. it can be hard to get past the first few pages but, man, once you do it's impossible to stop. also enemies to lovers

- the raven boys [tetralogy]: ok so i don't have enough words to describe or synthesize all my feelings for this book. i love every part of it: from the first sentence, that introductory line, to the last, the laudable ending. the story is impeccable, as is the plot on which it is based. the development of a course of action as well as the characters' relationship and their own conceptions of themselves and the world are simply things that appeal to me. the characters are amazing, real and liveable, and the bond of friendship they share is enviable. their love relationships, even if they're not all the book talks about, are breathtaking and make your heart flutter and melt. the key to the story is also hidden behind the action of the characters, behind silent cares and concerns, but there, always present. i love adam and ronan. i love how their relationship developed (friends to lovers), the patience with which it was structured, building slowly, before your eyes, under your nose -- but you didn't see it until the characters' feelings became more obvious to themselves and to each other, and began to submerge and overflow through every paragraph, every line of thought. it's beautiful. it's absolutely beautiful.

- autoboyography: this is among the books that came to me at an opportune time, so i have a huge connection to this story. it wouldn't be here if it didn't deserve it, and it does; this story is about love, about accepting it, and about reconciling that love, such a vital part of you, with religion and ingrained prejudices. it's a story you versus the world, you versus what you thought you were, what you wanted to be. it's about accepting that about yourself, so that you can be true to yourself, to the people you love. in the process, people who say they love you back will not always support your discovery or encourage your self-acceptance. this book is also about how we have to accept ourselves, regardless of what others think about it, because their opinion, however important, should never be everything, or overshadow your own opinion, your own wishes and desires. love is in innate acceptance, or at least the quest for understanding. it is in the understanding that the person is what he is, and that should be applauded, rather than just tolerated or ignored. this should be encouraged and cause for joy. you should never stop being who you are because of other people’s opinion, as long as you feel comfortable showing it. this book is about self-discovery and tolerance, in a world that represses the first and fakes the second. strangers to friends to lovers.

- we are the ants: this book is not a novel, although there is the development of one in the backstory. this book is about dealing with mishaps, with veiled depression, with a lack of faith and hope not just in the world around you, but in yourself. self-doubt is the worst thing, the most discouraging thing. if you don't believe in yourself, don't think yourself worthy of happiness or good things, how will you appreciate the world and how will you accept such things when it offers it to you? this book is a great journey. reality is behind every moment and bad and hopeless thought represented in every paragraph, but the journey continues, day after day, through the feeling that there is more in the world than what you are experiencing, that things can be better tomorrow. in friendships and in love lies a little willpower that recharges you for another day, for another obstacle that can bring you down (and that's okay. we fall and get up day after day, and that's okay), but not even that and it all. you must believe in yourself to fully revitalize yourself, to keep your feet on the ground and stand firmly on your feet, no matter how hard the world tries to bring you down. this book is about choices and the lack of it. it is about pain and depression, which is not always obvious, which you are not always aware of. it's about everything and nothing. it's about getting up after successive falls, when all you wanted was to stay on the ground. it doesn't matter if your legs are shaky when you get up, or if, as soon as you get your balance back, the world hits you and knocks you down again. keep getting up. as long as you are alive, you can still choose and try to realize how you want to live, what you want to be. nothing is definitive. bad feelings don't last forever (not even the good ones). life is cyclical, but with good company, a few glances at the bluish or gray sky, feelings that rise in your chest, discovering things you've never experienced, the wind in your hair -- things you never cared or paid attention to, minimal things, but that keeps you -- it's worth every takedown. strangers to friends to lovers

[drivingsideways]

Melo is My Nature Review

Well, as usual, I’m late to the party! I picked up 2019′s Melo is my Nature/ Be Melodramatic with some trepidation since I was (am!) still smarting a bit from the disappointment that’s Hospital Playlist S2, and I wasn’t quite ready for another. 

I’m so glad I gave it a chance! While it isn’t a “perfect” series- in the nature of the world *sigh*- its combination of quirky, clever, self-aware humour and heartfelt performances won me over from the first episode. 

More thoughts under the cut (along with some spoilers)

I’m very fond of ensemble dramas that love their characters, and “Melo is my Nature” does that very well. Perhaps a little too well, to the point that you feel the writers letting themselves be more than a little indulgent during the middle stretch of the episodes. But I can’t complain too much, because yes, I know the feeling!  “Side characters” that refuse to stay in the lane and take over the narrative are also my favourites, as a writer and a viewer. I loved, loved, loved Lee Joo-bin as the flighty-but-amazingly-smart Lee So-min; that felt like such a delightful  clap-back against the prevailing sentiment that often goes against young, successful women and the ridiculous levels of expectations of them, in how they need to perform gender and  femininity and smartness. I loved that (like Emma! There’s a lot of Jane in this series!) the writers managed to make her likeable even though they never disregard her flaws or its consequences.

 Another performance/ character that I totally adored was Baek Ji-won as Jeong Hye-jeong, the industry maven who may be (?) a nod to Kim Eun-sook, I suppose! I was afraid at some point that they’d just trash her character, by making her a little too ridiculous in an unkind way, but I found some of the loveliest scenes involved her- like the one where she tells Jin-joo to do the work, but not be too successful. In the end, there was a love and fondness for her, a genuine empathy, that really was core to what made this show so successful. 

Shout out also to two of the weirdest characters I’ve watched, but thoroughly loved- Heo Joon-seok as Director Dong-gi & Lee Ji-min as Nutritionist (?) Da-mi. I absolutely adored that the only wedding in this series is between these two, and they do it in a completely predictably-unusual way. 

Re: the “main” characters, I loved all of them without exception, though some more than the others :) One of the things I love about the show is how real and present the three female leads feel; they feel like whole, entire people rather than caricatures of them, even when the show reaches almost unusual levels of quirky. I love that a through-line of the narrative is how important women’s labour is- to themselves. The work they do, which is acknowledged as a part of their identity rather than just something they do to pay bills (though of course there’s acknowledgement of that aspect too!),  their hunger to do it well and for it to matter- all of that is portrayed in a way that’s charming  but still taken very seriously. And the way you know that its taken seriously is in the things they focus on- how Oh Jin-joo struggles to write alone, and how Han-joo’s learning to be someone’s mentor while struggling with her own insecurities, and how lost Eun-jung feels, when work which was supposed to give her purpose fails her in a time of crisis, and how unmoored she feels without it. 

Re: the romance- I’m someone predisposed to dislike heterosexual romance, especially at the present moment, so it’s always with a great deal of hesitation that I start watching shows that I know have a large romance component. It’s always a bit of a coin toss for me whether the show will end up making me hate the romance or just about tolerate it. I rarely expect to *like * it.  So “Melo is my Nature” was a pleasant surprise!  This is  one of the few series where I felt the writers put in the work to sell the “main romance” of the show. You get to know the Oh Jin-joo and Beom-soo in sharply etched sketches before they move into the romance part (with a lot of tongue-in-cheek meta humour about the formulaic nature of tv romances). I genuinely felt that thrill of  “oh this could go platonic or romantic and I would like either” slowly ease into “oh my god these two are MEANT TO BE”, because the Romance is clearly in the all the ways they are NOT meant to be, but also, very, very definitely are. DELICIOUS. Just my cup of Jane Austen in a different context/ time.

Through most of the show though, my heart was divided between two characters- Jeon Yeo-bin’s stellar Eun-jung and Han Ji-eun’s pitch perfect Han-joo. Jeon Yeo-bin brought edginess, dark humour and a deep, almost- inconsolable grief to Eun-jung. Some of the stand out scenes of the entire series are hers: the moment where she watches herself on video talking to an imaginary person, and the moment she breaks down in front of the psych after talking about her mother. Watching this show, it really felt like- oh, she’s a star. Consider me sold on her for life (though, no, I will not watch Vincenzo unless there’s a Hong Cha-young supercut out there, in which case, please put it in my eyeballs now)

Han Ji-eun, imho, actually pulled off the toughest performance, because I think Han-joo’s strength of character is so often concealed by her “silliness” (in a similar vein to So-min’s), and that often makes her someone you’d overlook or not take seriously.  But god, she broke my heart, from the scene in the first episode where she’s sitting alone at a table after a rough day and watching her horrible ex live his best life to the hilarious and excruciating  “Oppa” scene, to the one where her kid is quite unconsciously cruel to her in the way kids can be. I was disappointed in the way they dropped the “reveal” about whom she’s dating in the last episode- not that I wanted her to be in an romance with Jae-hoon, god, NO- but it felt quite clunky.  This is one of the two complaints I have with the show. 

The second one is that starting from the middle, episodes began to noticeably feel like scenes/ sketches spliced together. Each scene is, within itself, perfectly written and performed, but the seams between the stories began to show. I felt one of the main reasons was that Eun-jung’s trauma tonally felt like it belonged in another show, but instead it had to get stitched into the mostly happy/ frothy storylines of the other characters. Sure, we had Hae-joon and his girlfriend’s terrible relationship, but the show had an easier time integrating that by way of Han-joo.

That said, I love how clever this show is! I love that it loves its own cleverness and can’t resist the urge to show it off- from all the meta references, in-universe jokes, and oh, that entire episode devoted to farting, complete with a song about it,  which I think maybe my fave episode of the series. A great look at the place of performance in intimate relationships (and how the women bear the burden of it more than the men), but coming at it from a place of compassion and humour rather than anger. Love that choice, for the show and us! 

I think @rain-hat mentioned in a comment here or twitter that Melo feels like a part of a triangle of shows along with Run On and Search : WWW.  I’m inclined to swap out Run On for Rookie Historian, or huh, maybe change the triangle for a quadrangle? Rookie Historian dares to imagine a past where our protagonist is (mostly) unshackled by the patriarchy and in the “modern” ending to its main heterosexual romance, reminds us that people have always found ways to find joy and thrive outside the rigid bounds of society. Search: WWW goes about it in the opposite direction- placing us in a present/future where the patriarchy doesn’t  and hasn’t ever mattered. Melo, I think, doesn’t quite do that, but in common with both these shows, it refuses to focus on the trauma of living under such structural violence, and instead talks about how we all (irrespective of gender) can find a way to remain unbroken by it. And while both Search:WWW and Melo do well at queer-platonic relationships as an alternate to the heterosexual project, it’s Run On, I think, which goes furthest there- firstly because though ostensibly structured around a het romance, that romance turns out to be falling in love with yourself/ loving yourself;  secondly because it’s most explicitly queer in the choices that the characters make and the lives that they choose for themselves- Min-joo & May are each others darlings and will be for life, Yeong-hwa and Ki Seon-gyeom are allowed a tenderness in their friendship that feels like an explicit repudiation of toxic masculinity, and of course, you have May being asexual, but not aromantic, and Goh Ye-jun’s whole arc of accepting himself as a gay man, and finding acceptance of that identity from others. 

Anyway! tl;dr would recommend (and have recommended!) Melo is my Nature to anyone fond of women, clever story telling and also ridiculously happy songs.

[whispsofkindness]

One of my good friends who is a nurse in my hometown sent me this message and man, is it a must read… (photo clearly not of her for anonymity).

“Man… I’ve had so many rough OD/drug related cases at work lately and telling people who don’t understand it from either an addict’s standpoint or the healthcare standpoint isn’t really as impactful. So here I am oversharing with you.

I walked into work on a weekday morning fairly recently to an intubated patient who was tied down, sedated, hooked up to every device in the ER, and 4 different types of IV sedatives because we could not keep them under (tolerance) and they kept trying to yank out the multiple important tubes that been placed into their body, from the IVs, to the Foley catheter in the bladder, to ET tube in the throat, the OG tube in the stomach, to the tube in the rectum, pulling on any of them was gonna be a bad time for everyone involved. I was unable to reach any family members on the phone. I delivered them to the ICU and told the tale that was told to me about their arrival in the ER, doing fentanyl until the verge of OD, narcaned themselves, then did enough meth to go into psychosis, at which point they showed up in the ER, where we were unable to subdue them with the traditional means, B52 shots and two Ketamine injections, so, they got tied down and sedated ALL THE WAY (to the point of needing mechanical ventilation) to keep them from hurting themselves or us. Keeping a person in active addiction sedated (without tanking their blood pressure and killing them) is a minute to minute job.

I take care of homeless folks everyday, most with mental health and addiction issues. Most of the time, all I can offer is a turkey sandwich and some fresh “Rehab Reeboks”, as one of my fave ER docs calls non-skid hospital/psych ward socks😂

We have a great peer counselor from Pathways, but it never feels like enough. And if they aren’t on a 72 hour hold, it’s impossible to get them to stay long enough to get any real help.

I recently took care of someone who had been drinking so hard for so long they were probably going to die without a liver transplant that they would never give them due to the drinking, the DTs were so bad I had to lead them back to their room 15 times in a 4 hour period, and then they crashed fast and we intubated in the ER, they were bleeding internally. They were a year younger than me… When I called report to ICU the accepting nurse told me they had recently lost a 29 year old alcoholic in basically the same shape.

Then there are the folks who got off the drugs years ago, only to develop life threatening complications like spinal abscesses directly related to past IV drug use. It’s always so hard to tell them that even though they are doing great at sobriety, we have to ship them out to a hospital with a neurosurgeon available because they might need spinal surgery because they have a life threatening condition. And probably end up giving them narcotic pain meds, because it’s excruciatingly painful wherever it’s located on the spine.

One week I narcaned 2 babies on two different nights. There is nothing as scary as the slow motion cry of a baby who got into papaw’s fentanyl…

I always tell people that I don’t care what they did (drug wise) or what crimes they may have committed or be wanted for, because I’m not calling the cops unless they try to hurt me or someone else in the ER. I just need to know so I can try to keep them alive, and I mean it. I mean, I’m occasionally impressed by the crazy tenacity of some drug use episodes (see the sedated patient I first mentioned), sometimes I have to tell somebody just to share the sadness, like when we lose one, and they’re still wearing a bracelet that says “we do recover” and I go lose my shit in the break room, because that place is always empty, but mostly, I just think about their families, their parents and grandparents, their children, their grandchildren. And how awful it might be to get that call that I occasionally have to make, telling them to get to the hospital as soon as possible, and they might still be too late.”

Source: Bradshaw

[numbaoneflaya]

Can I get a list of all ur ocs?

Well anon youve done it, you made me make a list of all my major OCS in one place. I hope your happy with yourself. Under the cut for obvious reasons, may link in my blog desc later.

Modern/BTD verse!!

Jilly- Ferret beastkin little creature, was recently turned into a werewolf by vincent as well so she's running around on full moons in a wereferret wolf hybrid creature form. Chaotic and friendly and wants to be everyone's bestie. She has the most energy in the world and is very kind hearted. Banned from most Claires for stealing and from one Home Depot for climbing the shelves. Prone to living life with rose colored glasses on and seeing the best in everything/everything even when there's nothing there. Socialization is a must for her and is why being basemented/kidnapped broke her psych so quickly and developed severe stockholm. Sometimes overly talkative/enthusiastic and can scare people off. Even if she sees someone shes decided shes friends with be noticeably 'evil', will convince herself it must be for some reason/her fault and ignore it.

Ciggy- Undead punk still learning to harness his powers to interact with the world as a ghost. Was sacrificed by a cult he joined for free concert tickets and to get laid. Likes to cause problems on purpose both pre and prior death and he's not above possessing someone once he learns how to. Was called Rooster in high school before he dropped out because he's loud, obnoxious and always screaming. And also has bright red dyed hair. Looking 4 ways to become less ghosty bcs he wants to be able to help raise his infant daughter, whom he died before he could meet. Bit annoying and in your face, likes poking at bruises, his or others. Kind of a sad heart seeking attention through volume and persistence.

Mike: Vampire loser! Sells drugs and lives at raves. Was turned when she was attacked by a coked out vampire (whom she supplied the product to) and has major scarring on her face and chest. Needs a somewhat constant influx of blood so shell sometimes take victims back to her place and chain them up, slowly draining them over time. Feels bad (ish) about it tho so it is possible to survive her if you are nice and or interesting enough. Kind of desperate for a friend and for love. Is a stalker. If she likes you enough/finds you interesting, she might just appear in your house one night and start rummaging through your fridge like nothing is wrong and youve been besties for years. Its best to indulge her and be friendly, otherwise she could turn violent quickly if her feelings are hurt.

Kilaine- Regular human woman, but fucked up. Born and raised by an elite waspy society she had an interest in the human body and pain tolerance since she was young. Quickly learned that these traits were socially unacceptable in most professions, so she became a doctor. The only family she cared about was her younger sister who she lost in a car accident, where they were flipped over and trapped inside while it was afire. While her sister burned up in front of her Kilaine only lost her left arm and had major burns on her body. This tipped her descent into sadism and she is now madly obsessed with bringing her sister back no matter the cost. Rude and offstandish, clinical.

Dragon age verse!

Thurwen- My main Hero of Ferelden with a bad temper and a heart of gold. City elf from the Denerim Alienage, 18 at the start of origins. She's a reaver warrior with a lot of pent up rage which sometimes scares others when she lets it out in battle. Over the years she's grown less moody as she's had to take the role of Commander. Crude sense of humor and violent impulses, very sensitive to the plights of others and tries often to help. Never seen crying in public but only cries to herself at night- major martyr and hanged man complex.

Caz- My circle mage elf inquisitor who was an apostate before the conclave. Blood magic, but make it sneaky. Wary of strangers and new faces, always dealing with the impulse to flee/find a high vantage point. Endless curiosity about the unknown/ the forbidden/ naughty, was supposed to be made tranquil for it but she escaped. Kind of a little creature as well, lived on her own for a while as an apostate in the woods, filed her teeth down to sharp ends to make herself look more intimidating (shes 5 ft tall) and less cute (her elf ears are huge and expressive, which shes embarrassed about)

Dag and Thagna- Carta twins! Professional lyrium smugglers since birth pretty much. Raised casteless in dust town and had to work their way up the chain of command by themselves. Dag is the brother, Thagna the sister. Their father traded them to the carta for drinking money and their mom died in childbirth so they have somewhat of a codependent relationship. Both charismatic and calculating, friendly and agreeable but won't hesitate to put a dagger in your back. Hard to pin down morally or physically, squirrelly bastards.

Reila: Dalish elf who works for the inquisition/ is the inquisitor in some aus. She has an extreme fixation on elvhen history and rebuilding what they have lost. Not a people person, prefers solitude. Takes some time to warm up to shemhlen as she has a hard history with them. Good friends with Caz, who recruited her in the first place. Doesn't understand very many social cues and finds societal expectations limiting and frustrating. Fondness for halla and hooved animals, which she finds graceful.

Elder scrolls verse!

Valkya: Near seven foot nord woman whos over a thousand years old by the events of skyrim. Tall and buff, two handed warrior and compulsive hero there to bask in the spotlight save the day. She was killed at the start of the events of Elder scrolls online and had her soul ripped out and sent to coldharbor and she's just been a pain in the ass about it since then. Her body can physically die and will not regrow pieces. Her soul however will escape and teleport to the nearest source of power where her body will regrow from an aetherial plasm until its whole again. Loud and brash, friendly and jovial. Actually pretty keen especially after centuries of life but prefers to play dumb as it makes people underestimate her. Plus, she really does enjoy mud wrestling and drinking contests and acting generally like a rambunctious frat boy. Ha developed a bit of a substance problem and a problem with acting out, as after being alive so long she would turn to anything to dull the ache inside of her that never goes away.

Espira- My Dragonborn! Redguard from Hammerfell who was briefly in the Ash’abah due to killing undead while protecting her parents water farm as a child. Ran away from them after years and went to Cyrodille, then to Skyrim and was caught crossing the border. Reserved, kind and soft spoken, she's a sword and shield warrior who's committed herself to doing good in the world by helping others. Dislikes killing and anything messy but believes it is often necessary in order to protect the weak. She blacksmiths often to save money on the upkeep of her own equipment, and takes up metal jewelry working as a hobby with the excess material. Prone to trusting others too much and giving too many second chances, as shes always looking for ways to make even the most hardened criminal a second look at life.

Riley- Espiras little brother who she locked in the wardrobe during the event of the water farm attack. In preventing him from doing violence against the undead she kept him from being conscripted into the Ash’abah. He's way more chaotic than his sister, and suffers from a case of little sibling syndrome in which he will often pester/poke at people just to get a rise out of them. Still kind hearted as his sister, he tries to hide it because he believes that the world is a cruel place and the cruel survive. Despite that belief he is often still unable to force himself to be cruel/careless, only making a show of it so that others leave him alone and don't see that he's very sensitive and emotional. Deaf in one ear due to a magic mishap in his youth, he trained and enchanted his most beloved rats to live for years and sit on his shoulder, alerting him to noises he would not otherwise notice.

Felria: Evil vamp :/ chaotic evil dunmer necromancer. Small and devilish and likes dead bodies too much. Manipulative and cunning, she loves acting. She's a trained assassin for the dark brotherhood and is the speaker. Likes dressing up for missions and wearing disguises like its all a play. Loves toying with people more than she loves killing them, will act in ways that cause as much trauma as possible for other people just for fun and she finds the reactions interesting. Considers herself too far removed from most people's perception of morality and of her so it's hard for her to trust someone or see them as worthy of knowing her. Finds the psychology of grief and fear to be interesting and wants to study them first hand. The hero of kvatch.

Herren: Fifty something year old rat woman looking for something to keep her going. Ran away from her wealthy family in her youth when they wanted her to take charge of the household, instead became an infamous jewel thief and swashbuckler. Spent most of her life traveling and stealing and double dealing. She's smarmy and sarcastic, a serial romancer of the highest caliber. Bit of a show off and a hedonist, always looking for the next good party or new product to snort. Her family died off due to the hard times she wasn't there for and she keeps looking for bigger and bigger heists to fill her appetite as she's chronically bored and lonely, though wont accept intimacy and will scoff at it out of the belief she doesn't deserve it. Irresponsible and selfish, lonely and terrified of any sort of commitment. Fun to party with though!

[woman-loving]

I’m curious about “respectability politics” and how it applies to variations on the “born this way“ / “it’s not a choice” argument for toleration of homosexuality.

I’ve heard that “respectability politics” was theorized by Evelyn Brooks Higginbotham in Righteous Discontent: The Women's Movement in the Black Baptist Church 1880-1920, which I have not read yet. (Although this might be a good time to start it, cause I’m just about to finish my current book!) My impression was that it referred to appeals to middle-class norms of respectability as a basis for claims to citizenship and protection and nondiscrimination under the law.

I associate the “it’s not a choice” discourse (and I’m not entirely sure if that’s a bit different from the “born this way” discourse) mostly with a counterargument to conservative Christian pronouncements about homosexuality in the US. I had previously rejected the idea that this argument was a form of “respectability politics,” because I didn’t think that “not being able to choose your sexuality” was a typical marker of middle-class respectable citizenship. I had instead described this argument as “toleration politics,” where, rather than being seen as meeting moral (or citizenship) requirements just as well as everyone else, a special exemption from the standard requirement was being requested based on a (tragic) inability to fulfill it.

But I’m thinking about some things I’ve read and feel like variations of these arguments (which each have their own particularity, but also some commonalities imo) may have more to do with respectability than I originally thought.

But the other part of the equation is that they may involve appeals to religious patriarchal moral authorities. And I’m curious about the relationship between patriarchal religious morality--which I would basically describe like that, although I’m trying to work “religious” out of it--and class and citizenship dynamics. Because it seems like, at least in Christianity (and also in Islam from what I know about it), the acknowledged orthodox sexual morality is patriarchal and doesn’t authorize sex outside heterosexual marriage, even if it overlooks it. (But what variations might I be overlooking because they’re not considered orthodox by more institutionalized authorities?) Is there an automatic link between orthodox patriarchal sexual morality and “middle-class respectability,” just because the former is taken as a basis for the later? In the US, appeals to Christian patriarchal morality are also important to citizenship given the influence of Christian conservatives in politics, but is this also/only about middle-class ideals? (This has all got me thinking about the argument I heard Naomi Goldenberg make on The Religious Studies Project that religions can be understood as vestigial states.) I’m also thinking of religious authority here in terms of patriarchal authority: is this a good way to think about it and how is it incomplete?

Anyway, there are some passages that have been fitting themselves together in my brain:

Karen, editor of Frauenliebe, used sexological concepts of congenital and acquired homosexuality to draw a strict boundary between the two. She argued that anyone seeking same-sex love out of enjoyment of transgression [acquired homosexuality] damaged society and should be "separated from the public." On the other hand, Karen continued, "Same-sex behavior, entered into voluntarily and clearly by both partners [congenital homosexuality], belongs, like every intimate heterosexual behavior, to the realm of things one accepts but does not talk about."[68] Karen also warned aspiring writers to avoid writing explicitly about sexual experience in their stories and essays.[69]

Categorical exclusion shaped a debate in Frauenliebe about bisexuality. Like prostitutes, bisexuals were excluded from homosexual community. Frauenliebe printed fifteen responses to a letter asking readers to express their view on women who had relationships with both sexes.[70] They saw homosexuality as moral and bisexuality as immoral. It was not only movement leaders who wanted to discipline sexual desire in their followers. Letters from readers grouped bisexual women with prostitutes and "sensual" heterosexual women, accusing all of seeking homosexual experiences out of curiosity or sensual desire rather than as an expression of inner character.[71] [...]

Vilification of bisexual women allowed women the opportunity to enter into the classification and definition work of sexology and to create a purified figure of the female homosexual suitable for political citizenship. The "sexual" in homosexual was tamed through strict denial that irresistible desire defined the category. Rejection of prostitutes and bisexuals allowed women to construct "female homosexuality" as materially and sexually pure. As a type, they argued, "true" homosexuals kept desire under the control of the individual will.

-- Marti M Lybeck, Desiring Emancipation: New Women and Homosexuality in Germany, 1890-1933, 2015 Fuller quote here. This one links sexual morality and citizenship most directly and perhaps in the most “respectable” way (the realm of things you don’t talk about).

To understand how MSM is read, it is important to examine how explicit and implicit boundaries are drawn around the category gay. Consider, for example, a passage from Paul Farmer in which he claims that, in recent years, there have been fewer HIV cases than predicted among gay men in the United States, a category he implicitly racializes as White via the contrast with “injection drug users, inner-city people of color, and persons originally from poor countries in sub-Saharan Africa or the Caribbean.”21(p47) He further excludes gay from poor and suggests that “males involved in prostitution are almost universally poor, and it may be their poverty, rather than their sexual preference, that puts them at risk of HIV infection. Many men involved in homosexual prostitution, particularly minority adolescents, do not necessarily identify as gay.”21(p47) With this juxtaposition, Farmer seems to suggest that same-gender behavior among poor men of color (especially youth) is sex work rather than sex for pleasure and is devoid of identity and community; same-gender behavior among White men is read as synonymous with gay identity.

Compare these assumptions with a recent ethnographic report on men at risk for HIV in Dakar, Senegal.22 While many of these “men who have sex with men” are poor and engage in sex work, the authors found that they have indigenous sexual-minority identities that are differentiated and socially meaningful. Senegalese sexual-minority identities serve as a basis for social organization, including, but not limited to, sexual roles. The authors describe ibbi as men who “tend to adopt feminine mannerism[s] and to be less dominant in sexual interactions,”22(p505) whereas yoos are men who “are generally the insertive partner.” They also stress that the categories have “more to do with social identity and status than with sexual practices.”22(p506) [...]

Is MSM a useful term for describing groups that eschew prominent LGB categories? Much has been made of the fact that men on the DL lead secret lives and do not consider themselves gay.25,26 But DL is not a behavioral category that can be conveyed as MSM. As Frank Leon Roberts has put it, “DL is . . . about performing a new identity and embracing a hip-hop sensibility [italics added].”27DL functions not as a nonidentity but as an alternative sexual identity and community denoting same-gender interest, masculine gender roles distinct from the feminized sissy or faggot, Black racial/ethnic identity, and a dissociation from both White and Black middle-class gay cultures.26–28

-- “The Trouble With “MSM” and “WSW”: Erasure of the Sexual-Minority Person in Public Health Discourse,“ by Rebecca M Young and Ilan H Meyer, published in American Journal of Public Health, July 2005. This one doesn’t deal with the “it’s not a choice" argument directly, but suggests who people might want to exclude and have actually excluded in practice from categories of “sexual orientation" and “born this way” gay identity.

Omar’s analysis of linguistic terms has direct impact upon the issue of interpretation of the Qur’an. This analysis, published in 1997, predated the El-Moumni Affair by four years, yet illustrates exactly the conflation of terms which the imam pronounced in that controversial interview. Omar writes, “Many words are used to express sexual relationships that take place between man-and-man or between woman-and-woman. . . . Whether in modern standard Arabic or local dialects, there are terms like sexual deviance (al-shudhudh al-jinsiyya) and sodomy (al-liwat) and also homosexuality (al-junusiyya). . . . The problem is that most people use these different terms as synonyms, creating a situation of naming experiences with names that do not really fit, thereby generating misunderstanding and confusion about the topic of sexual orientation. . . . I see the critical importance of writing about homosexuality as the attempt to remove these confusing mix-ups of terms and issues.”[15] In this crucial passage, Omar explains that his project is to differentiate between homosexuality and sodomy. In his understanding, the Qur’an condemns sodomy as the act of anal penetration rather than homosexuality as sexual orientation, while the Islamic legal tradition mistakenly conflates the two.[16]

The distinction between homosexuality and sodomy makes sense if one asserts that there is a psychological reality called sexual orientation, which is separate from and prior to any sexual act. He writes, “Sex is a phenomenon that happens by way of the body, whereas sexuality is a matter existing at the level of psyche and personality.”[17] In his analysis, only a person with a psychological identity of constant and exclusive same-sex desire should be called “homosexual” (junusi in his terminology, or mithli jinsiyya in the Arabic terminology of other contemporary writers). The person who performs same-sex acts without doing so within the framework of exclusively homosexual orientation can be described as sodomite (luti). It is this behavior that characterizes the Tribe of Lot, who wanted to perform same-sex acts for reasons other than as a genuine expression of their sexual identity and psychological persona.[18] Omar’s analysis challenges classical Islamic law. Jurists instituted practical norms forbidding same-sex acts such as sodomy (liwat), with the assumption that those performing them were, in their inmost character, actually heterosexual (or at least functionally bisexual).

--Living Out Islam: Voices of Gay, Lesbian, and Transgender Muslims, by Scott Siraj al-Haqq Kugle, 2014. I read this one yesterday. I can’t be sure whether bisexual people are considered at all, even as a footnote, in Omar’s analysis, and if they are, whether their pursuit of same-gender sex would be categorized with the acceptable homosexuals or unacceptable heterosexuals. I’m not sure here if Omar has in mind for sodomy rape specifically, or any anal penetration, or sexual activity (anal or not) between men that’s perceived as ‘voluntary’ rather than following the demands of exclusive sexual orientation.

But I think it’s interesting how intent/context/constraint of orientation is factored into ethical analysis here and in the first quote, in a way that accepts some forms of or reasons for having same-gender sex as unethical or socially disruptive. And in the first quote, these ‘voluntary’ expressions are imagined to be rooted in hypersexuality and sex work, distinctly un-middle-class. The last quote is engaging with Islamic legal traditions as well as theology, and I don’t know much about how this articulates with “citizenship,” although the author was writing in the Netherlands where LGBT rights were guaranteed by secular authorities.

Anyway, that’s what was bouncing around my head last night.

[chickensarentcheap]

Never Gonna Be Alone- Chapter Ten

Title: Past, Present, Future

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @tragiclyhip​

It’s been a productive morning. Breakfast had turned into an enormous affair; seemingly endless supplies of pancakes, french toast and eggs and bacon being shared amongst the ten people gathered. Although much more reserved and quiet than Millie, Alannah had held her own in the midst of the chaos and chatter; the only child initially nervous and withdrawn but quickly and seemingly getting accustomed to the level of noise and activity that comes with so many children in one house. She’s a lovely little girl. Smart and witty; always offering to help out with food prep and dishes whenever she’s over for a meal, full of compliments in regards to food and decor and possessing remarkable manners and social graces for someone so close to their teenage years. In a way she reminds Esme of the younger version of herself; shunned by her own family and desperately searching for people that will both accept and love her. Perhaps that’s why she’d been so willing and eager to bring the eleven year old into the fold; remembering what it was like to be surrounded by family yet feel so alone at the same time. It’s a horrible feeling; knowing that you’re not what your mother -or both parents in Alannah’s case- wanted and never allowed to forget it. It’s isolating and soul destroying. Causing problems that deeply imbed themselves in your psyche; battling with the destruction and never still weeping and sore wounds that hang around even as a an adult. She hadn't been as fortunate as Alannah; no one else that had been willing to embrace her as ‘one of their own’ and give her what she had so desperately needed AND wanted. And there’d be no way she’d wanted another kid going through that same thing; feeling alienated and lost as a kid and then having your adult years just as messed up and troubled.

So many bad decisions could be directly blamed on the behaviour she had witnessed growing up. Able to make friends yet unable to form real bonds with them. Growing tired of romantic partners; annoyed by the sounds of their voices and agitated by the touch of their hands and winding up feeling physically ill at the thought of them even touching her in an intimate way. The idea of being that close to someone had always turned her off instead of the opposite; a handful of brief and non intimate relationships throughout her entire high school career before trying her hand at the ‘real deal’ in college. Even then it had been too much work; long battles with her own brain and her own hang ups before she would even let her first REAL boyfriend get anywhere past second base. And she’d gotten married solely because she’d been convinced that Mark could be the one to get her past her issues; she’d learn how to tolerate someone being around all the time and she’d learn how to be a normally functioning adult when it came to having a serious and long term relationship with someone. That had been a disaster; confusing being in love with exactly just settling for someone and convincing yourself that you couldn’t possibly do better, so why even try? And even though she hadn’t loved him, she’d still desperately held on even when he became abusive and turned her life into a living hell. Suddenly afraid to be alone and terrified that his words were true: no one else would ever want her. That she was damaged and crazy and no one in their right mind would ever put up with THAT. And he’d constantly remind her that she couldn’t do better. That she should count her lucky stars that he even stuck around in the first place. No other man would, after all.

“That’s how much I love you, Esme. I put up with you. No other guy would. But I do. Because I love you THAT much.”

It’s weird how things evolve. Or don’t, for that matter. How your past has such an impact on your future. Fifteen years after Mark and she still struggles; moments of extremely low self esteem, lingering mental health problems, an unhealthy and twisted relationship with her own family, a constant worry that -despite being relatively healthy and somehow surviving the most horrible and terrifying of moments- her marriage is only two seconds away from imploding. The latter is irrational and she knows that. Despite Mark’s words, she had managed to find someone that loves her -truly and wholly loves her- despite all of her issues. Who sees past her messiness and busts his ass to help her finally move on and heal from her past. Who looks at her like she’s the most amazing and beautiful woman in the world; who would remind her of that until his very last breath and who -regardless how much it DOES annoy him- always tries to reassure her that things are just fine. He doesn’t care about the other women that check him out or show him attention or even the balls to try and get close. Always finding ways to assure her that he only has eyes for her; a man of few words that never shies away from pledging his unwavering love and faithfulness. No matter how many times she needs to hear it.

Her mother. She’s the one to truly blame for how fucked up her brain is. That lack of maternal instincts and the pure hatred she’d often shown. She had never let Esme forget that she was a mistake; a ‘change of life’ baby that never should have happened in the first place. On the worst of days, she’d often say that she’d wished she’d never even had her. That she should have ignored Esme’s father’s begging and pleadings to keep the baby. They hadn’t needed another mouth to feed; five boys was more than enough and another kid only caused financial strain and emotional strife. Her mother had always refused to acknowledge her own issues that had caused so many problems; her constant cheating, her lack of maternal instincts, her own biases when it came to her children. Even decades later she refuses to accept any responsibility; laughing off any mention of parental neglect or favouritism and shunning any and all suggestion that she was -and still is- emotionally abusive and an expert at psychological warfare.

While there’s no proof that those exact same things exist in Alannah’s home, Esme does hang onto an old adage passed down by Doctor Klein: “if things are that bad out in the open, they’re even worse behind closed doors.” If Alannah’s parents are so ‘out there’ with their distaste for each other and with their roles as parents, things are probably much darker and direr at home. And if she can give the kid a glimpse of a somewhat normal family and the experience of having siblings and people around her that do value her and appreciate her and show her attention and affection, it’s the least she can do. It’s too late to mend her own issues and it’s not possible to go back and time to change things, but she CAN alter Alannah’s present AND future.

Desi arrived at ten. Quite the baker and chef himself, he had offered to help Tanner in his culinary pursuits; bringing over his most expensive pots, pans and baking sheets and a stash of both exotic and common ingredients for the ten year old to experiment with. And with Millie the only other child left in the house, it had given her the opportunity for a little ‘me time’; the rest of the kids having gone with their father to assist in his pursuit for last minute Christmas gifts and the items she’d jotted down a list prepared right before he stepped out the front door. Some time in the gym had done her a world of good. Forty five minutes on both the treadmill and the rowing machine, followed by some time with the weights and working up a sweat punching and kicking at the heavy bag; the latter successfully enabling her to shed the anger and bitterness towards Mark, her own mother, and Alannah’s parents.

While she isn’t quite nearly as devoted and motivated as her husband is -often working out twice a day, two to three hours at a time- when it comes to fitness, she find it DOES help; getting her heart rate up and her adrenaline flowing a rather successful combination when it comes to her battle with her mental health woes and her ongoing battle with her self esteem. The latter becoming worse with the arrival of the last set of twins and her inability to shed the remaining twenty pounds -out of forty five- that she’d gained while pregnant with them. She’s nowhere near who and what she’d been before she’d begun having children; missing how skinny yet fit she’d been and how every piece of clothing she’d owned or tried on had seemed to fit so perfectly.

Tyler always rolls his eyes when she brings it up.Quick to remind her that a lot has changed since they first met; he doesn’t expect her to be the same person, in the same way she doesn’t expect him to be either. And that’s a good thing, he’d point out, and then thoroughly list all the ways they’ve both evolved for the better. He’d get that mischievous glitter to his eyes and he’d give that cheeky grin and he’d talk about how much he enjoys her body now; all that ‘extra cushioning’ in all the right places. And then he’d kiss her and embrace her as tight as her body would allow him to and everything would seem right and perfect in the world once again. Those big, strong arms never failing to make her feel safe and protected. In a way no one else has ever been able to.

******

After a long bubble bath- complete with scented candles and a glass of wine- she finally heads downstairs; braiding her still damp hair and securing it with an elastic and letting it dangle over the front of her shoulder. Desi is in the living room; surrounded by plastic tote boxes filled to the brim with various Christmas ornaments that he’s in the middle of organizing. The tree had arrived earlier and now sits in its stand in front of the living room window; seven feet tall and wide and full and filling the house with the fresh and unmistakable scent of pine. The kids are already excited to decorate. Even the normally quick to bore Millie looking forward to what has turned into quite the year event; Chinese take out and hot chocolate stirred with candy canes and the fireplace on while Christmas carols play on the stereo. It’s just a little ‘something’; a simple and silly little tradition that they’d adopted when they’d first moved back to Australia and have been indulging in ever since. There’s been many more adopted; both trying to give their kids the experiences they never had growing up.

“Thought maybe you fell asleep,” Desi says in a way of greeting. “Not that I’d blame you. Isn’t often you get time away from all the kiddos.”

“As nice as a nap sounds, the bath hit the spot. I may or may not have refilled the tub with hot water three times. Just to drag it out a bit. You’ve been busy. You don’t have to organize and clean my house every time you come over. I’m more than happy just to spend time with YOU.”

“A little help here and there is a good thing. Little T was helping me go through things and make them a little easier for you to find. We’ve got shortbread and sugar cookies in one oven, brownies and squares in the other. He’s in his glory that kid. Quite the little baker, ain’t he? He’s got skills. A mighty keen palate.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me at all if he becomes rich and famous for his cooking and baking one day. He’s a talent. In many ways.”

“He’s a good kid. A damn good kid. Reminds me of you in a lot of ways. Got quite a bit of momma in him. And he sure thinks the world of her, too.”

“He’s always been close to me. Since we lived in Colorado. He became quite the momma’s boy when things…” her voice trails off and she reaches into one of the boxes and pulls out a strand of rose gold garland. “...when things weren’t so good between Tyler and I.”

“That bad?”

“Bad enough. We split up. For six months.”

“No shit?”

“No shit. He went through some things. That were totally out of his control. And he made some decisions that weren’t the best. I had to kick him out.”

“You kicked him out? You? As madly and crazily in love as you are?”

“I did. He got back into the booze and the pain meds and he became a totally different person and I didn’t want that around the kids. So I told him to go. That once he got his shit together and could put us before his issues and his job, he could come back. Took him half a year, but…” she shrugs and tosses the garland onto the couch. “...it all worked out in the end. We got back together and we fought like hell to make things work. And here we are. Twelve years into things. And a hell of a lot better and stronger than we’ve ever been. He’s changed. We both have. We’ve come a long way.”

“And Little T?”

“He picked sides. He was three years old. Just a baby still. But he’d seen and heard enough and it affected him way more than it did TJ and Millie. He was scared of his dad. For a long time. Not that Tyler ever did anything to scare him; he never yelled at the kids or hit them or did anything to frighten them. We fought. A lot. And those fights got pretty bad. A lot of yelling and a lot of really horrible things said to each other. Things we can’t take back, unfortunately.”

“But you got past all that. Obviously.”

“We did. I mean, we didn’t MEAN the things we said. They were said out of anger and hurt; none of it was ever intentional. But that sticks with you, you know? You didn’t mean what you said and you hate yourself for saying any of it, but you still did it. And you can’t go back and erase it. Those words existed. Sadly.”

“You can’t dwell on it, Big E. You just can’t. Y’all got past it, am I right? You got back together, you said yourself you’re better and stronger than ever. And I highly doubt he holds all that against you; shit that happened years ago.”

“I know he doesn’t. But I also know he holds it against himself.”

“Well, that’s the bipolar part of things. Keeps the bad shit in his head and reminds him of it during the down moments. He’s doing okay with that? All that shit in his head?”

“He is. He’s been remarkably...well..for someone with the diagnosis he has. I’m proud of him. For handling things like he has. He just copes with it all. Way better than I thought he would. It’s been five years and there’s been no real issues. He takes his meds and he goes to therapy and he manages it all well. I’m proud of him. So proud. He’s done really well. He’s a tough shit, that’s for sure. Probably the toughest person I’ve ever known.”

“You mean when you’re NOT looking in the mirror?”

Esme laughs. “I am not THAT tough. I put on a good front.”

“You’re a tough cookie for a tiny little thing. All the things you’ve told me? That you’ve been through over the past twelve and a bit years? You shouldn’t underestimate yourself like you do.”

“It’s been...interesting...to say the least.”

It isn’t something she speaks so openly and honestly about; how she and Tyler met and everything that had happened in Dhaka and the decisions she’d made on the Sultana Kamal Bridge. It isn’t exactly a topic you’re comfortable discussing with just anyone; your husband being a mercenary and a former alcoholic and painkiller addict with mental health issues. But Desi is trustworthy; kind and compassionate with a heart even bigger than his already enormous body. And it helps to have a confidant; someone to spill even your deepest and darkest secrets to without the worry of being judged.

“I found these,” Desi snags a shoebox off the coffee table and opens the lid as he presents it to her. “Look homemade.”

She peels back the layer of tissue paper and smiles at the contents revealed. “Salt dough ornaments. I remember making them with Millie. We were still in Telluride. Our third Christmas there. I hadn’t even gotten pregnant with Declan yet. God, that seems like a long time ago.”

“There’s four there, though. If you hadn’t had Declan yet, there’d only be three, would there not?”

“That’s not Declan’s.” She carefully plucks out the fourth ornament in question; gingerly turning it over in her palm as she inspects it. The same size and shape as the others, but with the added ‘extra’ of a halo that a then three year old Millie had decorated with gold glitter. It had been her idea; an ornament for the brother that she’d never get to meet but insisted was still very much part of their family. “That’s Austin’s.”

“Austin? Who is Austin? You have another kid I don’t know about? A baby you lost or…”

“Austin wasn’t mine. He was Tyler’s son. From his first marriage.”

“Excuse me….what?”

“He was married. Before me. In the same way I was married before him.”

“You never told me about that. You being the second Missus Rake.”

“There was never really a reason to talk about it. She was his high school sweetheart. They got married pretty much right after graduation. Then he joined the military. Austin arrived a little while later. When he was twenty five.”

“What happened between them? Things went bad or…?”

“It wasn’t the healthiest of marriages. They were young. Probably rushed into things. He was gone a lot and she wasn’t happy being an army wife.”

“And the kid? Does he see him? Do they live in Australia too or…?”

“Austin died.” She finds herself both fighting back a flood of threatening tears and speaking around a lump of emotion sitting square in her throat. “When he was six. Long before I ever knew Tyler.”

“I’m sorry,” Desi lays a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You don’t have to talk about it if…”

“It’s okay. It’s good to talk about it. About HIM. We’ve never hidden it from the kids. We’ve always been open and honest about things. Our past lives, the fact we were both married before, how they’d have another sibling if things had gone differently. There’s never been a reason NOT to tell about those things. It’s all part of who we are. All plays a role in how we got to where we are now. In one way or another.”

“Was he sick? Was there an accident or….?”

“He had lymphoma. It was very aggressive and pretty far along when the doctors finally caught it. The kid didn’t stand a chance. He didn’t last long. Even with chemo and radiation. It was bad. Very, very bad. Just a horrible thing for a kid to go through.”

“And for his folks to see.”

“It was a really bad time. For them. As a family. And Tyler…” she swipes at the tears that manage to escape. “...he was never the same after that. It really did a number on him. I know he seems all big and bad and fearless and intimidating but he’s got such a huge heart. He loves big and he loves deep. You see how he is; with the kids.”

“Definitely loves being a daddy. And they definitely love him.”

“He’s an amazing dad. I couldn’t have asked or wished for a better father for my children. And in a way, losing Austin made him the dad that he is. It was rough. On him. It still is.”

“It’s a hell of a thing. Losing a kid. Can’t imagine what it’s like seeing your own flesh and blood suffer like that. It was bad enough for me; seeing my husband go through what he did. I can’t imagine watching a kid go through that.”

“I often wonder what would happen if one of the kids got sick. If he could even handle it. I mean, once is enough. Imagine having to deal with that AGAIN? And I hate that my brain even goes there. That I immediately think of something like that. He’s tough and he’s strong and he’s resilient. But I don’t think he could handle that. If anything happened to one of the kids or me…”

“He’d deal with it. It’s what we do. When we love someone. But you need to get out of your head, Big E. I mean, it’s beautiful nine times out of ten. But that last remaining bit…”

“It’s a mess. I’m the first to admit that. I can’t believe I’m this emotional over this. It’s a Christmas ornament, for crying out loud.”

“It’s what it represents. It’s your husband’s pain. So it’s your pain too.”

“For years we never even put the ornament on the tree. Tyler couldn’t handle seeing it. So I just put it away. Until he was ready for it to be out. And then one year, he did it himself; got it out of the box and hung it on the tree and that was that. We’ve been putting it up since.”

“Is that why their marriage broke up? The kid getting sick?”

“There were other problems. It wasn’t a good marriage. For many reasons.” She lays the ornament back in the box and carefully covers it with the layer of tissue paper. “But I guess in the end, it worked out okay. For me anyway. We wouldn’t have met. Had things NOT fallen apart. I can’t say I wish I could go back and change things. Because if I could do it…”

“Change one thing, change everything. The butterfly effect.”

“Whatever you do, do not bring that up to Tyler. Not the butterfly effect itself. The movie. Don’t talk about Ashton Kutcher to him. He’s got this deep rooted and unexplainable hate for him.”

“I feel the same way about Justin Timberlake. You know what I call him? Just to be an asshole? Justin Tenderbottom.”

Esme laughs at that, then sets the shoebox down on the cluttered coffee table and allows herself to be pulled into a tight hug; one of Desi’s enormous hands on the back of her head and his arm curled around her waist. She rests her forehead against his chest; the tears coming easily and effortlessly now. It’s a hurt she’s never been quite able to explain; a painful and long lasting mourning for a child that she never knew.

“You’re a good little wife, Big E. I know for a fact that he thinks the sun rises and sets on you. That you’re the best damn thing that’s ever happened to him.”

“He said that?” Esme sniffles noisily and looks up at her friend. “He admitted that to you?”

“He did. And he’s said a lot about you. All good things, too. You are definitely the center of his entire universe. And you know what? It’s a horrible thing that happened. To his son. To him. But if it hadn’t? Well you wouldn’t have what you have now. Those seven kids you got? None of them would exist. And if you ask me? This world is a better place because they do.”

“Mum!” Tanner calls, as he slowly makes his way from the kitchen; oven mitts on his hands as he carefully carries a mug of tea. “I made you a drink! I knew you’d want one. You always have tea right after a bath.”

Smiling, she pulls away from Desi and uses the bottom of her t-shirt to wipe away the tears that stain her cheeks. “You know me very well, sweet boy. You didn’t use the stove though, did you? To boil the water? You know you’re not supposed to do that if there isn’t an adult with you.”

“I used the coffee maker. Daddy showed me how. I know what I’m doing. And it’s safe. I can’t hurt myself. Three milk and no sugar,” he presents her with the mug, a proud smile plastered from ear to ear. “Just like you like it.”

“It’s perfect,” she says, and takes his face in her hands and presses a kiss to the top of his head. “And so are you. The most perfect and precious Nugget EVER.”

****

Two hours later she finds herself lounging in the sunroom; legs stretched out and socked feet against the window, laptop opened and resting on her thighs. It’s a double helping of work; two businesses to keep running smoothly even when thousands of miles away. Scheduling and payroll and Christmas bonuses to take care of for the bookshop employees, emails from potential clients needing fast and efficient ‘solutions’ to serious problems in areas all over the world. Word travels in the mercenary life; a rather tight knit yet extremely competitive circle that moves fast. People with money want the best; someone that chooses a life of relative secrecy yet possesses an astounding and well respected reputation. The list of ‘regulars’ is long and plentiful, and each brings more people into the game; word of mouth making or breaking a company such as theirs. There’s never a lack of work; over forty guys -some with years of experience that had bailed from competitors- employed and constantly climbing. But Christmas is the one holiday where they DO take a break; referring anyone that needs a job done to Anil. He doesn’t take his role of a husband and a father as seriously; dedicated to his work and refusing to let anyone -even his own wife and children- get in the way.. He’s a good man and treats Nik and the girls well; providing for them and protecting them and making sure they never go without. But his loyalties remain with his business, and he is never shy when it comes to admitting or defending it.

She forwards him the emails and then focuses her attention on the bookstore; balancing the books and checking the profits and sending out payroll and bonuses. It’s been a quiet end to the morning; Milie and Alannah upstairs in her bedroom playing on the computer and watching movies, Tanner and Desi finishing their first round of baking and using their break to head outside to play in the snow. She watches them now; Desi’s big body lumbering around the yard as he chases Tanner, who occasionally allows himself to be scooped up and tossed into the nearest snow pile. That high pitched and giggle makes her smile; picturing Tanner’s enormous smile that crinkles the bridge of his nose and the corners of those brilliant blue eyes. He doesn’t form bonds easily; leery of new people and finding it difficult to make friends. But he’d taken easily to Desi. Once saying that it was the man’s deep yet soothing voice that won him over. Along with a gentle smile and warm brown eyes that let Tanner know that their neighbour was a good person with a good heart.

The doorbell sounds just as she finishes and sends off the store’s schedule for January. The melodic chime setting off a flurry of activity and noises; both dogs -stirred for their naps in front of the front room fireplace- now barking in unison, paws sliding across hardwood flooring as they scramble for the door. It’s soon followed by Millie’s footsteps; seeming unusually thunderous and heavy as they rush down the stairs. Accompanied by that thick Aussie accent she’s adopted within the last five years; yelling at Saju and Mac to lie down and shut up and behave or she’ll throw them out in the snow. It’s hardly a threat; both preferring the sun and the sand and their romps in the ocean, but quite accustomed to the cold weather and snow beneath their feet.

“Mum!” Millie bellows in an effort to be heard over the continued barking. “Some lady’s at the door! She wants to see dad!”

“He’s not home!”

“I know that! But she wants to talk to someone! And I don’t want it to be me!”

Smirking, she snaps the lid closed on the laptop and sets it on the coffee table; grimacing at the tightness in her lower back as she gets to her feet. The pain and discomfort is new over the course of the last five years; a small mistake made during the epidural while in labour with the twins resulting in long term damage. It sucks; your body betraying you when you’ve been so selfless and willing to keep other human beings alive inside of you. Pulling the sides of her cardigan sweater tighter around her body, she crosses her arms over her chest as she heads for the front of the house; soles of her UGG slippers lightly squeaking against the wood flooring. They’d been yet another one of her husband’s surprise gifts; a neatly wrapped package accompanied by a bouquet of Australian wildflowers that had shown up a day after he’d left for Cambodia. He’s become a master at it; showering both her and the kids with both simple and elaborate gifts. Claiming that it makes him happy to do it; spending his own childhood going without while his father used their money for booze. And it’s a way of making up for all his past mistakes as well; doing whatever he can to be a good husband and father and erase the mistakes of the past that continue to haunt him.

The woman at the door is tall and blond; clad in a disgustingly expensive leather coat with fur trim, the ends of her wavy platinum hair tumbling out from under the edge of a burgundy wool beret that perfectly matches her heavily painted lips. The smile she gives is phony; the look of dismay and disgust readily apparent as her eyes take in Esme’s more casual and relaxed look. It isn’t the first time she’s seen a look like THAT; the housewives on the school yard and at the soccer park have long perfected it, along with their snide comments about how ‘boring and plain Jane’ she is and how they can’t fathom how someone like Tyler could stand being with someone like her.

“She’s here to see dad,” Millie says. “I said he wasn’t home, but…”

“It’s okay,” Esme assures her, then nods down at the curious and rambunctious dogs now gathered at her feet. “Can you put these guys outside? Before they give me a migraine?”

Nodding, Millie slaps her hand against her thigh; a well used sign that dogs have learned means they should follow her. And they happily cooperate; their tails wagging energetically and their bodies pressed against the eleven year old’s legs as she leads the way through the house.

“She’s very…charming.”

Esme glances up at the woman standing in front of her, and manages a polite yet terse smile of her own. “Well, what can I say? She’s her father’s daughter. Can I help you?”

“You must be Emily.”

“Esme. My name is Esme. Not Emily.”

“That’s a very unusual name. A little...odd...in this day and age.”

“It’s actually quite common. Very old and classic. I was named after my great, great grandmother. And she was born in the eighteen hundreds, so…”

“I’m Natalie.” She doesn’t bother to offer a hand, electing instead to keep a firm hold on the plastic container she tightly clutches.

“That’s very plain. Natalie. Kind of boring. Guess you didn’t have any unusual and odd relatives to be named after.”

The corners of the woman’s turn up in a slight smirk.

“Can I help you? Is there a reason you’re here? Asking for my husband?”

“I’m here to see Tyler.”

“And our daughter told you he isn’t home. Which wasn’t an invite to stick around. I’m sure whatever you want to talk to him about, can wait until he IS here. Or, I could just give him a message and then he can decide whether he wants to talk to you or not. I wouldn’t hold your breath; he isn’t the chattiest person on the block. Why ARE you here? Is there something I can help you with or…?”

“I was hoping to speak to him.”

“And for the third time, you’re being told he’s not home. So sorry, Tyler can’t come out to play right now. And unless there’s something you want to say to me….”

“We met yesterday. He was at the park. With your son. The handicapped one.”

Once more crossing her arms over her chest, she cocks her head to the side. “Excuse me?”

“Your son. With the problems. Travis, Thomas….”

“His name is Tanner. And he doesn’t have ‘problems’. He has Autism. Don’t talk about my son like that. You can come here calling on my husband all you want, but when you bring my kid into this…”

“We had a nice little chat. At the park. We just moved here. My daughter and I. It’s been hard meeting people.”

Esme smirks. “I can’t possibly imagine why.”

“He was very friendly. Welcoming. Tyler. Not Tanner. Just to be clear.”

“And…”

“And I just wanted to thank him for that. For being so nice. For making us feel like part of the neighbourhood.”

“Well I’ll be sure to tell him that. I’m sure he’ll appreciate hearing it. Is that everything or….?”

“These are for him.” Natalie offers the plastic container. “I made them myself. They’re award winning. Used to get lots of compliments on those.”

“Oh how nice. You’re offering him your cookie. I mean, cookies. That’s very sweet. I will let him know that you stopped by with your generous offer. But just so you know, he doesn’t accept...goodies...from other women. So if you’re thinking about offering him any in the future, you might want to stop while you’re ahead. I’m sure there’s other married men out there who would gladly accept. But my husband? You’re pissing in the wrong front yard.”

Natalie’s eyes narrow. “Excuse me?”

“I’m just making it clear that he doesn’t accept goodies from other women. Ever. And he never will. So if you’ve got something brewing up in that head of yours, you might want to put an end to it now. He’s not interested. And believe me, I think you’d rather hear that from me. He won’t let you down as politely and easily.”

“I don’t know what you think I’m up to, but…”

“This isn’t my first rodeo. I’ve come across plenty of women like you. And I’m just cutting to the chase. He’s not interested. Find someone else. Go after someone else’s husband. Stay away from mine.”

“I’m not after your husband. I’m just here doing something neighbourly and…”

“If it WAS something neighbourly, you would have come here to introduce yourself to ALL of us. Not just ask for him. I have to admit though, that’s pretty ballsy; showing up like this and having the nerve to talk to the wife. Most would have just left once they found out the husband wasn’t home. I’ll hand it to you; you’ve got some nerve.”

“I’m just here to be friendly. That’s it. No ulterior motive. You know, I was surprised to hear you have SEVEN kids. When I saw you the other day out in the snow with them, I thought there was no way they could all be yours. You just seemed so fresh faced and young. No way did you look like someone with THAT many children. But now up close? Well, let’s just say I’d look tired and downtrodden too if I got pregnant that many times.”

“My husband prefers the fresh faced and natural look. You know, as opposed to looking like Sephora threw up on your face. He also prefers brunettes. So that’s two strikes against you. Is there anything else? Other than your cookie. Sorry,” Esme laughs. “I did it again. I meant ‘cookies’. Is there more or…?”

“No. I think we’re done here.”

“You know what? I think we are too. And as lovely and sweet as you are, I hope this is the first and last little visit. I hope you fully understood what I told you. About keeping your goodies out of my yard. I think I made it pretty clear.”

“You did. As a matter of fact, you…”

“Have a good day,” Esme manages a smile, then shuts the door in the woman’s face, giving a small jump when she discovers her daughter sitting in the middle of the stairs; her arms crossed over her chest and a scowl on her face.

“What a bitch,” Millie grumbles.

“Normally I’d give you hell for the language, but right? She was, wasn’t she?”

“Huge. A huge bitch. You should have throat punched her, mum. She deserved it.”

“You can’t just go around throat punching everyone that pisses you off. If you could, I’d be exhausted. Or in jail.”

“I can’t believe she’d come here asking for dad,” Millie says, as she stands and takes the stairs two at a time, following her mother towards the back of the house. “How rude is that? Asking for another woman’s husband? That’s some goddamn nerve.”

“She’s probably used to getting what she wants. And WHO she wants.”

“Well she can’t have dad. He doesn’t want her. He doesn’t want anyone. Just you. Think she got the point? That she better not try and mess with him? I think you went way too easy on her. I think you should have thrown down. You could have taken her. For sure.”

“Some women don’t care, Millie. They’ll continue to mess around with married guys no matter how times they’ve been warned to back off. Maybe she’s one of them. Maybe this isn’t the last we’ve seen of her. Who knows.”

“If she knows what’s good for her, she’ll stay away. You were tame. Dad won’t be. He won’t be nice.”

“Maybe that’s what she needs. She needs a man to tell her where to go and how to get there. If there’s one thing your dad is a professional at, it’s telling people off. Don’t worry about her ; she’s harmless. Your dad wouldn’t touch her anyway. He’s not the type. To do things like that.”

“I think it would be hilarious to see him tell her off and really embarrass her. And what are those supposed to be?” Millie nods at the container Esme drops on the island.

“Cookies. She made them for him. Isn’t that so sweet?”

The eleven year old makes a dramatic gagging noise. “She probably poisoned them. In hopes you’d eat them. Probably wants to kill you off and become our step mother. They look like shit anyway. Throw them out. I would.”

“I’ll let your dad decide what he wants to do with them. And her. The ball is in his court now. He can decide what to do from here.”

“I hope he tells her to piss off. That’s just plain weird; coming over to some married guy's house and asking for him. On what planet is that okay to do?”

“None. It’s very unusual. To say the least. But like I said, don’t worry about her. Your dad wouldn’t do something like that. He’s a lot of things, but a cheater isn’t one of them. That is the last thing I’m worried about.”

“Good. Because she has nothing on you. She’s all phoney looking. But that fur wasn’t. On her coat. I bet she’s obnoxious enough to wear real fur. What a cow. She should have been throat punched for that alone. Don’t worry, mum. You’re way better than she is. You’re real and you’re cute and tiny. And dad loves you. ONLY you.”

“Your dad is the last person I worry about. Other women? I definitely worry about them. Your dad? Never. I trust him. A hundred percent. And speaking of your father, I hope Alannah likes Mexican. Dad’s bringing some home for lunch.”

“She loves it. She loves all the same things I do.” Picking the container of cookies up off the counter, she peels back one of the corners and sniffs at the contents; frowning and making a gagging noise before setting them back down. “They’re not even good cookies. Oatmeal raisin! The abomination of cookies! Dad HATES oatmeal raisin. He says there’s nothing worse than biting into one and expecting it to be chocolate chip, only to discover it’s oatmeal raisin.”

“Your dad loves Vegemite. So excuse me if I don’t take his taste in food seriously.”

“Vegemite is awesome, mom. You don’t know what you’re missing.”

“Yes. I do. Which is why I don’t eat it. If I wanted to eat shit, I would. Everything okay? You and Alannah getting along alright?”

“She’s my best friend. In the whole world. I love her. And we always have an awesome time and we never get tired of each other. But there’s something I need to ask you. About her.”

“Okay…” Esme slides onto one of the bar stools at the island. “...what’s up?”

“I’m worried about her. The way things are at home. Her parents are horrible. They don’t even want her around. And when she is around them, they just ignore her. They don’t even talk to her. They don’t ask about her day at school or about her friends or anything like that. They don’t even know what her favourite movie or tv show is or what celebrity she has her crush on. What parent doesn’t know that stuff? You and dad know that stuff about us.”

“Dad and I care. We like knowing about you guys. You’re our kids. Why wouldn’t we?”

“Well Alannah’s their kid and they don’t give a crap about her. I mean, they’re leaving her at Christmas! How horrible is that? Who just dumps their kid off on someone at Christmas?”

“Millie, not everyone has the life you do. Not everyone has parents that love them. Not everyone has a mom and dad that wants to be involved in their lives. I didn’t have it. Your dad didn’t have it. And unfortunately, Laney doesn’t have it. It sucks. Believe me, I know.”

“But what if we could give her a family? A real family? Like you and dad did with Ovi.”

“I’m not sure if I like where this is heading…”

“She loves being here. Spending time with all of us. I mean, she was scared of dad at first. Because of how big he is and all his tattoos and scars and stuff. But she got to know him and now she loves him. And she really loves you. She always goes on and on about you. About how cool and fun you are. And tiny. Like her.”

“We love having her here. She’s a great kid. I hope she realizes she’s welcome here. Anytime.”

“She does. Which is why I want to ask you what I’m about to ask you.”

“Okay. Something tells me this is serious. What’s going on?”

"I want her to come back with us. When we go home."

“Millie, we can’t just…”

“She’s part of the family already. You and dad love her like she’s one of us. And you guys treat her great. She’d fit right in. And she’d love it there. She’d love being so close to the beach and the ocean. I know she would. And she’s not a bad kid. She’s a really good kid. You said it yourself; how great she is.”

“She IS great. She’s an awesome kid. But we can’t just take her with us.”

“Why not? Don’t you want her there?”

“Of course I want her there. But she has a mom and dad. Not very good ones, but she still has them. We can’t just take her with us. There’s this little thing called kidnapping. We can’t just take someone else’s child.”

“You took Ovi. When I was a baby.”

“We didn’t just TAKE him. We had to jump through a lot of hoops. Legally. Your dad had to go and talk to Ovi’s father and try and convince him to let us have him. It wasn’t just as simple as bringing Ovi along.”

“Dad could talk to Alannah’s parents. Talk them into letting her come with us. They’d let her. They don’t care about her anyway. We’d be taking her off their hands. They’d probably be happy about it.”

“Amelia, it just isn’t that simple. There’s a lot of red tape and legal stuff. I wish it was easier, but it’s not.”

“But would you consider it? IF her parents said okay?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? I suppose? I’d need time to think about it. I already have seven kids. Taking on an eighth?”

“It’s not like she’s a baby. All the hard work has already been done. Please, mum? Would you at least think about it?”

“If it was just as simple as talking to her parents and taking her with us, I’d say yes. In a heartbeat. But it’s NOT that easy.”

“I just want you to think about it. We’d be giving her a good life. Like you and dad gave Ovi. Will you at least think about it?”

“It’s not a decision I can make on my own, sweet pea. I’m not in this alone. I’d have to talk to your dad. I can’t just tell him we’re taking on another kid. It doesn’t work that way. He has to be on board with it.”

“Will you talk to him at least? Bring it up? Just see what he says?”

Esme nods. “I will talk to your dad. But I’m not promising anything, Millie. We have a crazy life. Your dad has his business and I have the bookstore. And there’s seven of you. Taking Alannah? That’s a big deal. That’s serious. And it’s something your dad and I would really, really have to talk about it. That’s all I can promise you. That I’ll talk to him. That’s the best I can do.” She reaches out and tucks some of the wayward strands of blond hair behind Millie’s ears. “Okay?”

“Okay, mum. And I’m sorry. For how I’ve been acting. I’m kinda bitchy lately.”

“Kinda?” Esme grins. “Just kinda?”

.“Okay, maybe A LOT. But I do love you. And I AM sorry.”

“You’re forgiven. I was your age once. I know what it was like. And it was brutal. VERY brutal. You know what that means? The mood swings, the attitude, the skin issues?”

“Aunt Flow is going to be paying a visit soon.”

Esme laughs.”Yeah, unfortunately. The joys of being a girl. You'll be alright, though. It’s a change. You’re growing up. Even I’m having a hard time with it. I still remember finding out about you. And telling your dad we were having you. Seems like forever ago now. We were so happy.”

“Dad was a little spooked. At first.”

“He was. And for good reason. He’d lost Austin and he didn't think he’d ever get to be a dad again. And then I told him about you and we hadn’t known each other that long and it was kinda scary. For both of us. But once we saw you? On that first ultrasound? And we got to hear your heartbeat? We loved you right away.”

“Dad’s miracle baby.”

“He will never, EVER, stop calling you that. He loves you so much, Millie. More than you could ever comprehend. And he’s pretty good, huh? At the whole daddy thing?”

“Yeah. I wouldn’t trade him for another dad, that’s for sure. And I wouldn’t trade you either, mum. Just so you know. I know sometimes we don’t get along well. We don’t always see eye to eye on stuff.”

“Well, you are your father’s daughter. Through and through. And your dad and I disagree a lot too. But I love you. Beyond all comprehension You’re my first. My baby girl. How could I not?”

Smiling, Millie stands behind the stool Esme’s perched on and wraps her arms around her mother’s neck. “I love you, mummy. Please don’t ever doubt that.”

“I love you too, Amelia.” She pushes her fingers through her daughter’s, then presses a kiss to one of the forearms resting across her collarbone. “And I always will.”

[moonchildstyles]

daffodil

aster part two: harry’s still kind of a dick, but y/n can’t help but have a crush on him, especially when he acts like he cares

wordcount: 9.5k+

—————

(Y/N) misses Harry.

It had been a few days since Sarah's show, and as (Y/N) had very wrongly predicted at the time, she was most definitely not over Harry and had instead almost obsessed over the few slightly sweet moments they had. Especially in the particularly slow moments at the library—like now—, did she daydream about what she would hope to happen the next time they see each other.

In her head, he would have made a full one-eighty and been even sweeter than what he had showed at the gig. He'd give her a hug, a kiss on her cheek to make her blush, and would talk to her about anything and not just Sarah or Mitch or anyone that isn't themselves. Sarah had psyched her up just the tiniest bit the other night, causing her to think that maybe he had developed a teeny-tiny crush on her, too. (Although (Y/N) does admit—only to herself of course—that her itty-bitty crush she had on him before has most definitely grown much larger than itty-bitty). She would love for that to be reality and not just a fantasy of her's, but she also feels a shot of anxiety go through her at the idea of him reciprocating her feelings on any level.

She doesn't know how to be a girlfriend, or even a date, so what if she somehow got comfortable enough with him to be something more than just a tolerable person to him. What would she do then? She doesn't know how to kiss really (only having had a very juvenile kiss at her junior year homecoming with a guy her friends had said liked her, and feeling self conscious about being so behind romantically, she had allowed him to kiss her but very quickly broke it off when he tried to add his tongue), she doesn't know how to express her feelings very well, and who knows what else he'd expect of her. But that's only if—if!—he were to ever feel the same way about her.

As much as (Y/N) loves the library—and the money—, she really doesn't think she should be allowed to work when it isn't busy, seeing as she is now over-analyzing a relationship that isn't even real.

"(Y/N), your shift ended five minutes ago. Are you okay?" Her coworker, Avery, asked. (Y/N) hadn't even realized that it was time for her to go, being too caught up in her confusing feelings and overthinking.

"Oh, uh, yeah sorry. I didn't even realize what time it was. Is there anything you need me to do before I clock out?" (Y/N) offered. She knew there wasn't going to be anything that absolutely needed her attention before she left, seeing as there was only one person in the library, a boy she she recognizes from her criminal psychology class from last semester. He didn't even have any books out, or laptop which (Y/N) thought was odd seeing as people usually came here to study or do homework and he didn't seem to be doing either.

"No, you should head out, it's already pretty dark and it's supposed to keep getting colder tonight."

(Y/N) just nodded her head and collected her things at the front desk. She clocked herself out and said goodbye to Avery and headed towards the door.

It was 8:15 (she was supposed to be out at eight o'clock even but that didn't exactly go to plan), and (Y/N) was ready to just get back to her apartment and be alone for a little while and try to sort out her feelings as best she could. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the boy from her criminal psych class—who she vaguely remembers is named Reese—abruptly get up after seeing her exit from behind the front desk. He didn't even have to pack up his things as all he seemed to have was his phone, a pair of headphones, and a notebook that was left unopened. Soon enough he was only a few beats behind her.

(Y/N) knows he could be doing just about anything in the world, and just because he seemed to be leaving at the same time as her could mean nothing. He could have been waiting for someone that never showed, he could have been waiting for a ride, he could have been doing literally anything that has nothing to do with (Y/N), but blame it on her parents and the ingrained paranoia around boys they gave her, but she can't help but feel like this was all on purpose; like he was trying to corner her or something.

Her heart starts pumping a tiny bit faster as she sees him near her from the corner of her eye. All she needs to do is get out the door before he can catch up and she'll be fine. Hopefully.

Just as she's about to push the door, a hand shoots out before her, pushing it open for her.

"There you go," Reese says, looking at (Y/N) with these suspiciously charming eyes and matching smirk.

"Uh, thanks," (Y/N) rushes, skirting past his arm and out the door and away from him. She walks faster than she normally does, trying not to run in case he really was just trying to be nice and she just ends up looking crazy.

But she wishes she had just ran.

"Hey, why don't you let me walk you home? Since it's late and all. I'd feel so guilty if I left you all alone in the dark like this," he calls to her. The polite girl her parents pushed her to be shined through as she replies back with a no, thanks and keeps walking, although the rational woman that values her safety above manners knows she should have kept quiet and kept going.

"It's not like I'm a stranger or anything. We had criminal psychology together, right? I read your essays and you're pretty smart. (Y/N), right?" He tried again, coming up and walking alongside her although she declined.

"I'm fine, really, I have to go a few places before I go home anyway. But thank you," she tries again, making up some lie about how she had anywhere other than her bedroom to be.

"Actually, I overheard you talking to that other girl earlier about how you couldn't wait to just go home. That you were so happy that you had finished all your papers a week early and had nothing left to do today," he challenges, the friendly tone he's been using vanishes.

"I-uh-" (Y/N) was cut off by the boy grabbing at her waist and wrapping his arm around her midsection. A harsh pinch is placed on her side as he speaks up again.

"So since you're free, why don't you come over to my place, yeah?" He has her stopped in the middle of the sidewalk with no cars driving past and no people out and about, trying to turn her around in what she assumes is the direction of his house.

"No, I-I just really want to go home, and my-uh-my roommate is expecting me and just—please stop, you're hurting me!" She speaks up, his fingers harshly digging into her side and causing these tiny tears to form on her waterline and her voice to crack. She stiffened her arms out in front of her, pushing against him to get out of his grip.

"Just follow me and st-"

He's abruptly cut off by the sound of someone shouting. "Hey, mate, what do you think you're doing?!"

(Y/N) knows that voice, she's been thinking about it for the past three days straight.

Harry.

"Just talking to my girl, man, she's just being a bit fussy. Guess it's time to get you home so you can go to bed, huh, love?" Reese tries to cover, taking ahold of (Y/N) again and stabbing his fingers into her hipbone to coerce her into playing along.

Harry comes closer now, and if (Y/N) wasn't so scared at the moment, she's sure her eyes would turn to the shape of hearts with how good he looks; her little daydreams didn't do him any justice.

"Is that right, (Y/N)? I didn't know y'had a boyfriend," Harry challenged, speaking only to (Y/N) to give her a way out. His arms folded in front of him, his shoulders squared up to take any type of route it took to get (Y/N) out of the situation.

"No-I-I don't know him. Harry, I-" she was cut off by the feeling of Reese beside her squeezing her side tight enough that (Y/N) was sure she'll have bruises tomorrow.

Harry took a step forward placing his hand out for her to take. "C'mere, get behind me."

(Y/N) used all her might to get out Reese's embrace, pulled closer to Harry with the help of his outstretched hand. She barricaded herself behind like as he suggested, hiding herself from view.

"Mate, c'mon, find your own. I've been waiting for this one," Reese presses, taking a step forward and reaching around to try and catch a grip on her.

Harry didn't say anything back, just pushing at Reese's chest to hold him back. "Hey, watch it. Just leave her alone, she's not going with you." His voice definitive, like he was drawing the line for this boy not to cross. Harry delivered a shove against his chest, causing Reese to stumble back a bit.

"She's not even worth it, mate. I heard she's a prude anyway so you can have her," he spits, turning away and leave Harry and (Y/N) behind finally. Harry waits until Reese is a good ways away before he finally turns to see (Y/N) shaking like a leaf.

A concerned look paints his face, causing his brows to furrow and a pout to form and his lip ring to droop in response. "Are you alright?" he breathed out, showing more emotion in that one breath than she'd ever seen from him. He takes a step back from her, allowing him to get a better look at her and give her some space he thinks she might want.

"Thank you s-so much, Harry. I-I was so scared and he was hurting me and just didn't think I would get away," she rambles, on the verge of tears. She pulls the sleeves of her thin, pink shirt down over her hands to prepare for the tears she knows are bound to come down.

"Of course, y'don't have to thank me at all, would've done that whether I knew you or not. 'M so sorry. Do y'want to go report it to campus police or go to the real police? Whichever y'want, we can do," Harry speaks softly to her, trying to keep her as calm as he can while still trying to figure out what's next for her.

"I don't think they can really do too much for me. He didn't really break any laws or code of conduct or whatever it's called. I-I just want to go home." That's when she started really crying. The reality of what could have happened if Harry hadn't shown up starts to sink in for her.

Harry lets out a sad sigh, his tongue peeking out and messing with his lip ring out of habit. He hesitantly reaches a hand towards her, not really knowing how to comfort her, someone he hadn't been exactly the nicest to but he wasn't cold-hearted or anything. Seeing a crying girl got to him, it made him think of his mother and sister. (Y/N) felt his hand wrap around her wrist. Although being wary of contact from boys (in general from her parents and also because of what just happened), she felt herself latch on to that bit of contact.

She all but threw herself into his arms without a thought. He quickly wrapped his arms around her, feeling a bit tense from the suddenness of her motions. She knew she probably threw him off, this isn't something she would do in any clear state of mind; contact with boys who weren't necessarily the nicest weren't on the top of her list. But this is just a moment for her. Harry's basically turned into her version of her tattooed knight in nail polish and eyeliner. And, surprisingly, he was very good at this, and she was very grateful of that. His arms felt strong around her, his heartbeat steadying. His shushing and overall calming tone of his voice was something she never really got growing up with her parents. He was just so comforting. If she had half the mind to think of anything other than the most dreadful possibilities of what could be happening to her now if she wasn't with him, she'd be wondering about how someone like Harry who seemed so tense and always moody and broody, would be good at something so emotionally taxing. But now is not the time.

(Y/N) pulled herself out of Harry's embrace, although she loved the feeling of his tattooed arms around her, she felt kind of embarrassed (she knew she shouldn't, but it's just something her parents pushed on her, emotion wasn't something you showed openly) to just be crying out in the open like that. What would someone think if they saw her having a crying fit on the public sidewalk? She'll save the rest of it for when she gets back home, she decides.

"Can you take-take me home?" She hiccuped, wiping away any left over tears.

"Yeah, I can walk you," Harry offers, his body still tense and alert for any signs of a flip of emotions in her.

"I just don't want to be alone in the dark like this right now, I'm sorry," (Y/N) apologized (unnecessarily, Harry thinks).

"Hey, don't be sorry, okay? I completely understand why y'need that right now. Now let's get y'home," Harry reassures her, placing a hand gently in her bicep and squeezing a tiny bit. (Y/N) just nodded her head, keeping her eyes and face towards the ground so he didn't see her flushed cheeks from his touching.

On the walk to her apartment, (Y/N) learned that Harry had just locked up his tattoo shop for the night when he had heard her yelling which caused him to intervene.

"Do you usually work this late?" Harry asked, being the eyes for both of them as she's too busy looking at her shoes and messing with her nails—both nervous ticks he's sure—to be watching where they were walking.

"Kind of. I can only work the later shifts since most of my classes are in the morning," (Y/N) answers, looking up at Harry for the briefest second to see him already looking at her before adverting her gaze.

"Since y'know where the shop is now, if y'want, come by after your late shifts so y'don't walk alone. This isn't going to happen again," Harry offers, a clench in his jaw evident in his speech towards the end.

"Y-yeah, I'd like that."

—————

Harry gets her home just around nine. Sarah was just about flipping out when (Y/N) hadn't returned home a half hour before that. (Y/N) knows they start talking about her when she goes to the bathroom and starts washing her face and getting more comfortable. She can tell by the hushed voices and the gasps coming from Sarah, she even hears Sarah thank Harry before (Y/N) returns from her bedroom now in her pajamas.

Harry's the first to talk to her as Sarah seemed to not know what to say now that she knew why they had been so late. "Feeling a bit better now?" Harry asks, standing up from his leaning position again the kitchen counter.

(Y/N) nods her head, distracting herself with the ties in her sweatpants. Her heart squeezed for a moment at the sound of the genuine concern she heard in his voice.

"Good, that's good. 'M going to head home then myself. If there isn't anything else y'needed?" Harry prompted, stepping closer to her, his arms folded in concern.

"I-I think I'm okay. Sarah can help if I need anything, right?" (Y/N) starts, peeking around him to see Sarah nod her head, "Are you going to be okay walking in the dark?"

Harry could feel his heart warm the slightest bit at the genuine concern dripping from her words. She's just too cute for her own good; for his good either. Much too sweet after how he's acted before tonight, after what's happened to her. She's still got the mind to wonder if Harry, the type of person that others are scared of on their walks home, would be okay walking in the dark. Too adorable.

"Yeah, 'm sure I'll be fine, but thank you for asking. Can I ask something of y'before I go?" A half tilted smirk on his face that was the closest thing (Y/N)'s seen to a smile from him.

(Y/N) eagerly nods her head, ready to repay him in any way she could.

"Could y'put your number in my phone? Jus' in case y'need to get ahold of me or to let me know if you're coming by the shop?" Harry asks, already slipping his phone out of his back pocket.

(Y/N) stutters out an agreement, having never been asked for her number by a boy before, grabbing his outstretched phone. She quickly puts in all her information, not being bold enough to put any cute emojis or anything next to her name like she's sure many other girls would have done. Harry sent her a quick text, just so she would have his number as well before putting his phone away.

"Alright, 'm going to head home, then," Harry started, giving her the same half tilted smirk before turning towards Sarah and giving her a hug. He offered (Y/N) a wave (she kind of was also expecting a hug, but maybe he spent all the contact he could give tonight) before heading towards the door. "Goodnight."

Harry let himself out, Sarah following behind him to lock the door before turning to (Y/N) with the saddest eyes she thinks she's ever seen Sarah have.

"I'm so sorry, (Y/N). If there's any-"

"I'm really fine Sarah, he didn't do anything to me I'm just shaken up. But thank you... Would it be okay if I cried a little bit?"

"Oh, (Y/N), of course."

And they just sat on the couch for another hour, letting (Y/N) get everything out and Sarah comforting her the best she can. Sarah sent her to bed soon after, telling her she needed to get some sleep and promising that tomorrow they would skip their morning classes and have a proper breakfast together.

(Y/N) laid in her bed, draining the last few stray tears she had before she finally fell asleep. Just as she wiped away that last of her sadness, her phone vibrated on her nightstand.

Harry         Sleep well. Let me know if you need anything.

(Y/N) thinks she could feel each individual muscle in her body relax after reading that.

—————

Harry kind of thinks he's a little fucked.

He hasn't seen (Y/N) in about a week or so now, but he just can't get her out of his head. Although their last meeting wasn't on the best of circumstances, he just can't get the look of her wet, doe eyes out of his head, the feel of her soft, pretty body in his arms off his mind. He's never been really a soft type of guy; sure he can make friends fairly easy and he isn't just an asshole to strangers on the street, but overall he's just a bit more closed off than most people. But this girl, this sweet, innocent girl is just cracking him.

He's never been much of a protector, having fended for himself for a good while, he doesn't see how others can't do it, too. For (Y/N), though, he feels like he's got to! At the show when she just sat there when he left to go be with Mitch, he couldn't just leave her alone, who knows what could have happened! And then she's just jumping and bouncing around, bound to fall at one point, and—of course—she did and he couldn't just let her fall down and hurt herself, so he had to make sure she was steady and let her know to be careful. The last time, though? That was something different. He'd have done that for anyone really, but the fact that it was (Y/N) just really got to him.

From what Sarah had explained to him the few times they had talked about her before they met, he knew she didn't have much of a history with being around boys or any type of romantic history. And the fact that one of the few times she has an interaction with a boy, its him pushing her around and trying to do something to her that she doesn't want. It just really got to him.

As much as he wants to be that protector and that man in her life that would take care of her, he just doesn't know how. He doesn't know how to be all sweet on a girl, or be the type of person that he'd envision her to be with. And he's just also kind of confused. He isn't usually into girls like her. He wasn't lying when he said she wasn't his type. He usually is one for girls who are assertive and make the first move; more outspoken, and up front about what they want and what they don't want. Not to say he likes "bad" girls, but he does like the badass type of girls that traditionally look like they'd go with him. So he's pretty confused to be feeling this way about someone so out of the norm for him.

She reminded him of the girls he grew up with in grade school. All these pristine little girls who didn't know the first thing about being kind. It only ever started when his parents got divorced, and he knows that the teasing from those girls weren't from them (at least he knows that now), but it's just things they had heard their parents say and gossip about. It still hurt his feelings nonetheless. But (Y/N) isn't like that. She's so kind and sweet, and he's given her so many reasons to be anything but that, but she just keeps her smile on her face and keeps trying. She may look like these girls but she's nothing like them. He just got stuck on her and all of her softness. She's all soft colors, and soft looks, and soft hair, and soft eyes, and she does this thing when he catches her looking at him where her cheeks just light up and she flutters her lashes and looks away real fast, and she—

He's just fucked, okay!

The way he copes with this is something he doesn't entirely enjoy doing really, but it's almost like a reflex. He starts getting all annoyed and frustrated with her (mostly because he just wants to make sure she's safe and careful and she doesn't do herself too many favors in that department) and he says things he doesn't really mean. He feels like some school boy who has a crush and is mean to her because be doesn't know how to express it. But he's not a twelve year old boy, he's a business owner, a real, grown man who doesn't know how to handle his own feelings. And it's slightly embarrassing.

He hasn't seen her in a week and he just wants to text her and call her and see what she's doing and just see her again, but he stops himself everytime knowing that although in his head he'd be the sweet boyfriend type, he knows that what would really happen is he'd see her or hear her voice and short circuit and just turn into some frustrated asshole. He knows who he is alone, but when he see her he turns into someone new. So he'll just leave her at arm's length.

At least until he heard the buzz from his phone on his workstation at the shop.

Sarah       Hey, H! I just wanted to let you know that I have a show this coming Thursday with that band again. There's going to be an after party at the singer's house, too. (Y/N), Clare, and Mitch are coming and Adam said he'll be bartending, so everyone's going to be there, and it'd be cool if you come, too!!

Harry knows good and well that Sarah made a point to list out the group of them, just to say that (Y/N) was going to be there. He knows that Mitch definitely saw through his pushing her away and he probably relayed that message to Sarah, so he knew the game she was playing. He did appreciate it, though. He'd never tell them, but he does. It was nice knowing that they supported the thought of Harry being there for her, and gave him opportunities to make it happen. So he's going to take it.

         Sure. Just let me know when and where.

—————

When Thursday rolled around, Sarah and Mitch both left early again leaving (Y/N) to fend for herself for a couple of hours. Since the last gig, Clare had been able to get her car all fixed up and was going to take her tonight. Although she breathed a sigh of relief at the information, she could feel all the butterflies fluttering in her tummy disappear when she realized she wouldn't have any alone time with Harry this time around. Not only that, but apparently he can only make it to the after party, so there's no chance of him being all sweet on her like he was before.

But it'll still be fun! And this time around she won't have to be on her toes thinking about how she's being flanked by two boys, and people she doesn't even know. And she'll still see him afterwards so it's all okay.

Clare     I'm on my way now, I'll let you know when I'm outside!

(Y/N) answered back with a simple okay and a smiley face before gathering all her things and finishing up getting ready before Clare arrived.

Just as she finished pinning her hair back, (Y/N)'s phone buzzed, not once but twice. Before she could even open them, a third buzz came.

Clare     I'm outside, whenever you're ready!

(Y/N) finished up, sending a message saying she was on her way down, before putting on her jacket and locking up the apartment. Once outside, she quickly spotted Clare's car, and hopped in the passenger seat.

"Hey, Clare!" (Y/N) greeted, leaning over the center console and giving her a hug. She pulled away quickly, allowing Clare to start pulling out of the parking lot of the complex, and on the way to the venue.

"Hey! How have you been? Its really nice to see you again," she reciprocated, a smile on her face.

The two started conversation, a major difference compared to when she was with Harry the last time. Although it was nice, she did miss listening to all the music he picked out and put together, and just overall being in his presence no matter if it was headache inducing sometimes. As Clare was telling her about this new business venture she was considering, (Y/N) took a moment to check the two texts she missed when leaving the house.

Safe to say (Y/N) was surprised at having to still fend off an asthma attack when she wasn't even in Harry's presence.

Harry     Get to the venue safely, please. Let me know when you and Clare make it.

     I'll see you at the party tonight. Have fun at the show. Be careful.

She never thought she'd say this, but she can't wait for this party.

—————

The two had made it just in time to get to the very front of the crowd with Mitch. (Y/N) took a moment to message Harry back, that they had gotten there just fine. All he sent back was a simple good leaving (Y/N) much too excited over single word text.

Just like the last time, (Y/N) really had the time of her life. The vibe was full of adrenaline, the lights flashing to the beat, the floor thumping from the bass, and just the feel of the place was just as amazing as the time before. Sarah was amazing, as expected, and (Y/N) loved seeing her best friend up there doing what she does best. It was also an added little bit of fun having Clare next to her. They jumped around and screamed, and pretended to know the words to all of these songs together. She was able to relax. Tonight had to have been one of the best nights (Y/N)'s ever had.

When the set ended they waited for Sarah and Mitch to come back from the breakdown.

"You did amazing, Sarah!" (Y/N) cheered, rushing to give Sarah a hug as she emerged from the back room.

"Thank you, guys!" Sarah said, reciprocating her hug before moving to Clare. (Y/N) moved to gather all of her stuff she left at the bar with Adam.

She waited as the three of them all talked amongst themselves, bouncing on her feet. She's sure she looked like a giddy child, waiting for someone to say it was time to go to this after party. She just really wanted to see Harry.

"(Y/N), what are you so excited about?" Sarah asked, a knowing tone to her voice as she realized what had (Y/N) all quiet.

"Nothing! Are you guys ready to go to that party?" She quickly asked. She's not very good at playing off her excitement.

"Are you sure you aren't all excited to see Harry?" A song-song, teasing tone entered Sarah's voice as she said Harry's name. (Y/N) knew she was caught, but she didn't want to just admit so freely, almost embarrassed at how excited she was to see him.

"I just think it would be even more fun with all of us together," (Y/N) tried to cover, offering an unconvincing smile. All Sarah did was playfully roll her eyes and nod her head. Clare even had a knowing little look her face, which (Y/N) didn't expect but she should have figured she would have caught on, especially after how (Y/N) mentioned Harry an unnecessary amount of times on the car ride over. Mitch pretended not to know a thing, but (Y/N) knows he much more aware of what's going on than he likes to admit, so she's sure he knows.

To waste a bit of time to let the party get into full swing as Clare put it, Sarah went ahead and changed out of her performance clothes. Adam also took his time cleaning up and closing down the bar as the attendants filtered out, before the five of them all left the venue. Sarah, Mitch, and Adam all went in Sarah's car, with (Y/N) and Clare in the other.

Clare followed behind Sarah, leaving the next twenty minutes to the singer's house for (Y/N) to anticipate seeing Harry.

"You really like him, huh?" Clare asked out of the blue.

"What do you mean?" (Y/N) asked, genuinely confused at where she was coming from.

"Harry. You really like him, I can tell. You're bouncing around in the seat like you've got to use the bathroom or something," Clare joked, keeping her eyes on the road.

"I—...He's just really nice and stuff," (Y/N) timidly explained. She felt like a little girl admitting she had a crush on a boy in her kindergarten class.

"He's only really nice like that to you, you know. You really bring something out of him, from what I hear. I can see why you're excited to see him. I'm sure he really wants to see you, too." Clare was able to do the same thing that Sarah can, making (Y/N) feel normal and like her feelings weren't that of a child's. It was very nice to think that she wasn't just making up these moments with him in her head, and that other people could see it too.

"You think so?"

"Definitely."

—————

After going down a winding side road, Clare pulled up behind Sarah on a long driveway, to a lone house. All these cars were parked outside, but it wasn't anything like (Y/N) had imagined from all of the movies she's seen. There weren't these crazy technicolor lights flashing from the windows, with bass heavy music vibrating the ground and bouncing the house. She could hear some faint music, and from what she could see, some regular colored lights. It looked nice, like a "grown up" party.

"Ready?" Clare asked. All of her things were gathered up into her hands, and she was about to turn the car off.

"Yeah, I-I think so," (Y/N) stuttered. The fact that this was a party had flown over her head in the excitement of seeing Harry. Once she remembered that fact, all of her nerves she's been able to fight off through the night, just reemerged and awakened the butterflies in her tummy.

Sarah, Mitch, and Adam all got out of Sarah's car, letting Clare and (Y/N) catch up before moving towards the front door. (Y/N) couldn't help but scan through the parked cars, hoping to spot Harry's. Finally she did spot his black Range Rover parked towards the back of the house, and the butterflies flapped harder.

Once inside, she saw that the lights she thought were just the regular ceiling lights were actually strings and strings of fairy lights brightening up the room. Two different songs were coming from different rooms in the house; upstairs a song with amateur vocals played causing (Y/N) to think that, maybe, it was karaoke, and the downstairs had a more professional sounding song filtering through loud speakers. Everyone was milling about some with drinks in their hands, others with water. Everyone seemed to be having a good time and (Y/N) was excited that this could be her first party and not some weird, teenage house party where everyone was on edge from the fear of getting busted by the police.

And Harry was here. She didn't know where exactly, but she knew he was here somewhere.

Sarah started off in her own direction, and the group of them followed. She went to greet the singer of the band who had thrown the party, while Adam decided to be the first one to break away and start talking to people he had recognized from the bar. (Y/N) stuck to Clare's side, following behind her as she went around and talked to some of the people and friends she knew from the band. She would introduce (Y/N) to people, bringing her into the conversation as much as she could but she was preoccupied.

Her eyes scanned the room looking for Harry, trying to find any glimpse of an arm full a tattoos, or even a wisp of a curl, just anything to show where he was.

And she did find that tattooed arm. It just happened to be around another girl. And she looked exactly like what she would think Harry would consider his type. She had clusters of tattoos (not as many as Harry but enough for (Y/N) to wince at the thought of sitting through them), and these pretty, colorful streaks through her bright blonde hair. And she was pretty and cool and she was everything that complimented Harry. And he had his arm around her.

She shouldn't feel hurt, and she knows that but... she just is. Even though she had no claim over him, and she never told him of her feelings for him. She knows she's not really the girlfriend type; she's too clueless as to how to be in a relationship and she knows that's not what Harry wants. He deserves someone like this girl who seemed to cool and confident. She clung to him without a shadow of worry of whether or not he felt the same, like she knew they belonged together. She knows she has no right to be upset. It just hurt to see him with someone after how softly he had treated her the last time they had been together and just from all the texts he had sent before tonight. (Y/N) also let it run through her mind that maybe, possibly this was nothing more than a friendly little gesture and she was overreacting on more than one front, but the idea of this being a display of affection from a couple was too upsetting to consider anything else at the moment.

"Hey, you okay?" Clare called, breaking her from her thoughts. The concerned look on her face becoming more prevalent when she could see the sad, puppy eyes (Y/N) was sure she was giving.

"Um, yeah. I just have a headache from the lights and music and all, you know? I'll be fine," she lied. Now wasn't the time to complain about a guy who definitely wasn't her boyfriend.

"Okay... Let me know if you need to leave or anything okay?" Clare offered, setting a hand on her shoulder and squeezing. (Y/N) gave her a genuine smile at the support and kept quiet.

After watching Harry for a beat longer (she honestly felt quite creepy), she didn't want to see how he was flirting with this girl anymore, instead opting to excuse herself to the kitchen, citing a need for water. Clare offered to go with her, but (Y/N) declined as she just wanted to be alone for a moment.

The kitchen was empty, no fairy lights in here, just the regular ceiling light. Stacks of red Solo cups were on the counter next to various bottles of alcohol. (Y/N) grabbed one for herself, filling it with water from the tap. Away from the noise outside, she leaned her back against the counter, taking a moment to soak in her feelings and somehow teach herself to get over it in three seconds.

After her few minutes alone, someone else entered the kitchen with her. She vaguely recognized him from the crowd at the show, standing towards the side. He didn't seem to be watching the show so much as looking at the other attendants.

"Hey, aren't you Sarah's friend?" he asks over the full thumping from the music just outside the door. He reaches for a solo cup and fills it with different colored alcohol and juices.

"Um, yeah," she answers, surprised that he knew anything about her, "Are you friends with her, too?"

"Yeah, kind of. I help set up for the shows. I'm actually good friends with the regular drummer. I saw you at the show tonight, you looked like you were having a good time," he smiled, coming around the kitchen island to stand next to her.

"Yeah, it was a really good show," she started shrinking herself away from him as he got closer to her. She didn't really know him and she still loved her personal space no matter how adventurous she's been.

"I'll have to let them all know that," he said with a suspiciously dazzling smile on his face, bumping his shoulder against her's, "what are you drinking?"

(Y/N) scooted herself away from him the slightest bit before answering, "Just water."

"Aw, why? I can fix you up something if you want. I'm actually a really good bartender. I know how to make all those fruity drinks you girls like," he offered, closing the distance that she had created.

"I—I don't really drink, but thank you," she declined. She set down her now empty water cup, and started slowly skirting towards the swinging door of the kitchen. He reached out and caught into her arm before she could get too far away.

"Are you sure? You look like you've had a rough night," he pressed, pulling her back towards him, "if you really don't want anything like that, I can just get you some juice or pop or something, if you'd like."

His handling of her had (Y/N) reminiscing of the last time she was cornered by a guy she didn't know. Although he seemed much nicer than Reese—less creepy, more of a "nice guy"—she still didn't really much want to spend time with him. (She also didn't think her broken-hearted, puppy dog look was that obvious, but apparently it was).

But her parents didn't raise an impolite girl, now did they?

"I—okay." He had already pulled a cup off the stack and started rummaging through different juices and things in the fridge. At this point a no wasn't going to be of any use anyway, she figured.

"Did you want a pop or juice?" he questioned, looking back at her from the pen door of the fridge.

"Um, cranberry juice?" If she was going to have a drink, might as well have it be something she actually likes, right? He gave her a nod and another much-too-dazzling smile and started pouring her a cup of juice.

She took the silent time to try and send a text to Clare or Sarah to let them know where she was and that she wanted to leave. Unfortunately, she didn't miraculously connect to the WiFi she didn't have the password to, so nothing was going through.

"Alright, here you go. Are you sure you didn't want anything else?" He offered, handing her the new cup. He slid up next to her again, leaning on the counter the way he had before.

"No, I'm fine. Thank you."

"Now, what's got you all gloomy lookin'?" He asked, slinging a—very unwanted—arm around her shoulders. (Y/N) very subtly shrugged off the arm, using the excuse of moving her arm to take a drink of her cranberry juice.

Just as she was about to take a sip, Harry came through the kitchen doorway. (Y/N) half expected the girl she saw him with to be following behind him, but she didn't which was very appreciated, (Y/N) thought. He looked like the same intimidating man she had met that first time, very neutral and cool, but that was until he saw her. As soon as their eyes met, his entire expression changed. Gone was the indifferent expression, now replaced with a pair of furrowed brows and a tensed jaw. His whole body seemed to go rigid when he saw her. She could see his eyes go from her, to the arm around her, and to who the arm belonged to.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!"

He probably came in here to get his girlfriend a drink and now somehow (Y/N)'s pissed him off. (Y/N) didn't have a moment to respond before Harry had his arm wrapped around her waist and was tugging her out of his arms and out of the kitchen. He pulled her through the living room and out the door. Still without a word, he took her to his car and opened the door for her and setting her inside before moving to his own side.

It wasn't until he had backed out of the driveway and was out on the main road before (Y/N) decided to say something.

"Are you okay?" She questioned, her gaze down on her nails where she was picking.

She stole a glance towards him, seeing his tensed shoulders, locked jaw, and white knuckles from his grip on the steering wheel. He looked so scary, and just angry, he looked like a completely different person than she had seen the week before. Sure, she knew he probably wouldn't make a complete one-eighty and be all clouds, and rainbows, and sparkles to her, but maybe she thought that he wouldn't yell at her first chance he got. It was like he wasn't even the same person. He didn't look like the same soft boy that gently took care of her and made sure she was okay before reluctantly leaving her that night.

The black on his nails now finally chipping a week later. His eyeliner smudged for the first time she's seen, also very different than the boy she's known before tonight. His lip ring was fit snug between his lips, moving from the motions of his tongue. He still looked like the cute, intimidating boy she developed that crush on, just really, really mad. Still cute though, but maybe now wasn't the time.

"No." His monotone reply pulled her out of her admiring of him, causing her to move her gaze to her nails to mess with them.

Usually people just said yes to that question, no matter if it was the truth not, so Harry's blunt honesty really threw her off.

"I'm sorry," she offered, her tone soft and truly apologetic. Harry said nothing in return, just silently driving them back into the direction of home.

It wasn't until a few minutes later that she tried to talk to him again. "I'm sorry for whatever I did that made you mad. I—I didn't mean to," she apologized, she wasn't sure for what, but usually when Harry gets mad it's because of something she did.

"Do you even know who that was? Did you even watch him make that drink he gave you?" he asked, already knowing the answer, but surely he just was asking to make (Y/N) feel embarrassed.

"He said that he was friends with the other drummer and—and that he helps set up for the shows, but I didn't ask what his name was." Her voice was small and timid, almost like she was trying to shrink herself from the inside out for him. If he was aiming to get embarrassment from her, he was definitely achieving it. She felt like she was getting reprimanded from her parents all over again. It reminded her of the times they would come and pick her up from school and the brother of another student, there to pick up their sister, would unknowingly be standing too close to her and as soon as she got in the car she would get the lecture of her life about trusting boys too freely. (One of their favorite lines was "we raised you better than that", usually followed by a threat of homeschooling since they apparently couldn't trust her, even at an all girls school). It wasn't a good feeling. Especially from Harry.

"If you had paid attention at all, you'd know that he has nothing to do with that band. He's just some creep that shows up to parties around here and tries to get girls to sleep with him," Harry started, his tone even and unwavering, "He wasn't even at the first show, (Y/N). Did you even see him 'help' with the set up tonight?"

"I'm sorry, Harry...I just don't really go to parties and stuff. I—I thought he was trying to be nice. He gave me juice and was ask—asking me how I was," (Y/N) explained, the nail polish on her nails chipping from her messing.

"I can never leave you by yourself! I always have to babysit you because you can't seem to take care of yourself! You fall for anything anybody says to you!" This was the first time she's actually heard him raise his voice, even after all the times he's gotten frustrated with her and even almost got into a fight the last time she saw him. He hadn't gotten mad at her like this, actually yelling at her. How he went from speaking so calmly (although very bitingly) to this, was something she couldn't fathom.

(Y/N) didn't bother to respond, feeling like a reprimanded puppy. A thin sheen of tears collected on her eyes, pooling into her waterline as she looked towards her lap in an effort to hide them. She tried her hardest to just shrink herself down into nothing so she wouldn't have to sit there and hear this from him anymore. She didn't want him to see her as a child that had to be babysat and put in time out for breaking rules. She wanted him to see her as a confident and cool girl that could take care of herself. She wanted him to see her like he saw that cool blonde girl from before.

Harry let out a sigh after she soaked in her feelings for a moment. "Hey, 'm sorry. I didn't mean that, I jus' get frustrated sometimes. I don't think y'realize what people are really thinking around you."

"I—um—it's fine. You're right, I don't have much experience with people. I'm sorry, I don't mean to make you babysit me," she apologized—again—,her voice watery. If she were to be taking a running tally from the last twenty minutes, (Y/N) sure she must have apologized at least one hundred times. Harry's body visibly softens at the last bit; his knuckles relax, his jaw unclenches, and his shoulders soften.

"I didn't mean that. Y'can take care of yourself just fine, 'm jus' being a prick. 'M working on being nicer, and being less of a dick to you. Especially after the last time I saw you," he explained, the mention of last week causing him to tense back up for a moment. "It made me sad seeing y'cry and everything. I don't want to make y'anywhere near that upset, so 'm working on it. Promise."

All (Y/N) did in response was nod, and offer him a small smile, her tears effectively falling back. There was nothing she could think to say to that. Hearing him apologetic like this wasn't something she thought she'd ever hear, and then to tack on him being sweet on her, too? Even after his sweet texts and the gentle way he handled her a week ago, couldn't have prepared her for his words now.

They both stayed in silence again, listening to a different playlist than last time. It seemed to be full of sweet ballads of love and soft instrumentals. The title of this one only had a date, nothing clever like the last one. (Y/N) decided to focus on what that date might have been instead of thinking about his words any longer. The vision of the girl wrapped in his arms enough ammo to ward off the daydreams of a relationship and the fleeting idea of him reciprocating her feelings.

A few songs later (very pretty songs (Y/N) is probably going to add to her own library tonight, she thinks), they pull up in front of her apartment complex. Harry puts the car in park before looking over towards her, his body turning with him.

"'M sorry for ending your night early. I—I just don't think I could've left y'there," he started, more apologies leaving his lips, "and for all the shouting and all...I guess I'll see y'around?"

"It's really okay, Harry. I'm not mad. Maybe we'll all get together again soon," (Y/N) accepted, hoping that what she said was true and that they'd see each other again under better circumstances.

She began feeling around her seat, grabbing her phone and looking for her purse. Her purse that had her keys. Her keys that would allow her into her apartment.

But.

She couldn't find it. At all.

That's when she realized that through the jitters of looking for Harry at the party, she had left everything but her phone in Clare's car: her purse, her keys, her sunglasses, and her favorite pink scrunchie.

"Y'alright?" Harry asked, breaking her out of her silent panic.

"I left all my things in Clare's car," she breathed out, running a hand through her hair before putting her face in her hands. "I-I don't know what to do. I'm sorry you drove all the way here for nothing."

Harry offered no response, just sitting along with her to the tune of his dated playlist. (Y/N) popped up from her hunched position, looking to see Harry still in his turned position, looking off with a blank look in his face with his lip ring snug between his lips. "I'll just call Sarah and wait for her to come back. I don't want to waste anymore of your night. Thank you for driving me ho-."

(Y/N) was cut off by Harry (very rudely, (Y/N) thinks) turning away from her and pulling the car out of park and into drive. Without saying anything, he pulled away from the curb in front of the building and started the opposite direction they came from.

"W-what are you doing? Where are we going?" (Y/N) usually feels quite safe—nervous, but always safe—with Harry, but she'd be lying if she said she wasn't scared right now. She knows Harry wouldn't hurt her, but who know what he's up to especially after she made him so mad earlier, he could just be lying saying it was okay, she's probably overthi-

"'M taking y'to my place. 'M not letting y'sit outside in the dark waiting for Sarah to come home," Harry explained, glancing towards her for a moment before continuing, "Unless, that's not what y'want. I can take y'back to the party or something, if that's better."

"No, it's fine. We can just go to—uh—your house. But only if you're okay with it, I don't want to, like, intrude." Her voice came out rushed towards the end, a nervous feeling taking over at the thought of her actually going to a boy's house. And to make it even more nerve-wracking, it's Harry's house. With Harry's things. And Harry. Alone.

That's a lot of pressure.

Or she could just force him to drive all the way back to that lone house, just to pick up her purse that Sarah could just bring home with her later.

"'M offering, don't worry."

Now (Y/N) had all of ten minutes to properly—and subtly—freak out about her current predicament.

—————

daffodil flowers represent new beginnings, rebirth

okay so part two down there should be two or three parts left. please let me know what you here or drop a request here thank you so much for reading!!

@suweeeeetcreeeeture here you go!! 

[nyx-9com]

Request: Scorpio ASC + Virgo Sun + Capricorn Moon | Exact Birth Time: 9AM | Birth Date: (09/20/1999) | Birth Place: Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam | Name: Anh | Sex: Female | thank you!!

(: Thank you all for your patience, I’ll be trying to get caught up on these now. I feel a part of me may have been aware of just how long this response would turn out to be and procrastinated quite a bit.

A note: You may notice that I use Mars for primary rulership of Scorpio. I do in fact regard traditional rulers of the signs (Mars-Scorpio, Saturn-Aquarius, Jupiter-Pisces) based in the inner, more personal nature of those planets. I do consider Pluto, Uranus, and Neptune if they are prominent by angle, conjunction, or aspect, especially the traditional ruler is not. This may indicate more public bent to the way that individual expresses the signs energy. The energy may not be used in a personal sense. Otherwise I consider their influence over a sign minimal; largely contained to house placement and activations by transits/progressions/solar arcs.

Scorpio ASC + Virgo Sun + Capricorn Moon

1H Mars/Pluto + 11H Sun + 3H Moon

Wow, wow what a beautiful chart. I hardly know where to start, so forgive me if I jump around. There are a couple of things aside from your ASC + SUN + MOON components that I think are important for me to point out. First off, your 1H Scorpio Chiron is at the anaretic degree: 29. This indicates a crisis around the themes and lessons represented by your Chiron. You are expected to integrate these lessons this lifetime—in fact, you must. More and more intense situations will arise until you are forced to confront and learn these lessons. Some would say that this is your most mature energy, in this lifetime you must pass the exam to show your mastery of it. What a wonderful individual you must be, Wounded Healer.

Chiron in the first house deals with a wound to the personal identity or sense of self, and in Scorpio this may have come through loss or death. There can develop and unhealthy obsession with death, loss, lack. Don’t focus on these thoughts- you will attract more of the same. This is because the universe doesn’t seem to recognize negatives in focus- that is to say: focusing on how much you don’t want to lose someone can produce loss. The universe just feels you focusing on ‘losing something’, it doesn’t seem to be receptive to the “I don’t” in “I don’t want this to happen”. A more positive way to attract would be focusing on how much you DO want something or someone in your life. Ie; visualizing your grandmother being in your future childrens’ lives rather than focusing on not losing her before they are born. (Random example!) The difference seems like nuance, but the effect on your psyche and your life in general will be large.

There can be a tendency to sublimate the self, almost as if to control the ‘death’ of the self before uncertain circumstances can take that control from you. Frequently, people with Chiron in the first house have a rough start in life. They learn they can rely on themselves though they don’t always necessarily like themselves or have a healthy portrait of who they really are. Sometimes out of a misdirected loathing for the things that made them, they mistakenly come to hate the who they have become. Interestingly, they are often the greatest healers of people. They give others the right to forgive themselves their darkness but they deny themselves that same right. Perhaps this is because a sign like Scorpio comes with killer survival instincts and the grit to claw oneself tooth and nail through situations that would rend most limb from limb. Scorpio will gnaw off its own leg to free the rest of the body, kill with bare hands to survive, Scorpio will cannibalize to avoid starvation. If that seems graphic, I apologize, but I mean to illustrate that Scorpio will go to extremes that other signs don’t have the guts to tolerate, Scorpio is self-protective, Scorpio is “at all costs”. (And to be clear, I am speaking strictly in metaphorical terms of the energy of the sign Scorpio- not calling Scorpio people cannibals or anything. :P ) The thing is, when you “survive at all costs” you reach the light at the end of the tunnel. And when you get to that point and normalcy begins to resume, you can look back and be horrified at the individual you became to traverse that inferno. The fact that we have such darkness in us can be frightening, “at all costs” is never a pretty situation to look at. These types of behaviors might still exist in you long past their use-by date, making one feel dangerous and perhaps ugly. This is where the self-denial and self-hatred can come from.

I can only hope that you don’t need to hear any of this, that this placement didn’t manifest this way for you. But in case you need to hear it: forgive yourself. You are who you are, a complete person, and you have a right to love everything about yourself, even the parts that are frightening or messy. If you seek the positive expression of this sign (any sign really), then you will know that you are everything you could be and everything you should be. You won’t have to worry and wonder. Subconsciously negatively expressing the traits of this sign can become a way to confirm self-hatred which becomes a vicious cycle. The more you bash yourself, the more depressed you become, the less likely you are to seek positive expression, the more you reaffirm yourself to be a negative person. Be careful you are not setting yourself up to behave in ways you don’t approve of, always choose your personal high-road.

With that aside, let me continue on to the rest of your chart. You have this lovely Virgo Sun in the 11th house, a very public house and one tied with large associations. It’s also the house of hopes and dreams and greater fortune. While you likely display the regular logic and organization of a Virgo outwardly, I can see that you’re an emotional and compassionate individual. You keep that largely to yourself, in fact I don’t think most people realize what high ideals you hold for society. Now I wouldn’t call you outgoing by any stretch, but I would bet that you have plenty association with people. Probably through work. You’re a highly capable and very structured individual, so I wouldn’t be surprised to find you in leadership. You’re still young so it’s possible you are not involved with your career just yet. Your Sun rules the 10th house cusp and is placed in the 11th, or 2nd from the 10th – earnings from career – so at some point in your life, your career will be prominent and I don’t doubt that you’ll earn a pleasant living. With your Sun owning that 10th cusp, I don’t doubt that career has always been an important focus for you, even when young.

That Capricorn Moon. Now Moon is in detriment in Capricorn, describing how uncomfortable you can feel expressing your emotions or even having them. Moon gets a little boost from being a triplicity ruler of Capricorn, it’s a fertile sign that likes to provide. So while emotions and expression may feel somewhat uncomfortable for the native to have, Moon typically compensates by quietly caring for others, in a way, cultivating life. You might enjoy caring for plants more than people. You may fuss over the health of those you care about. Sometimes others think you’re picking at them or criticizing them, but you wouldn’t do that if you didn’t care. You’d just let them get on with their dumb lives and their dumb mistakes. Note that the Moon joys in the 3rd house, so that helps your Moon feel a little comfier too. A lot of your care could be fraught with worry, if you have siblings you may be close, probably with a more unspoken bond. You may have been the one to take care of them growing up. You’re probably known as a kind but serious and reserved individual when it comes to your neighbors. The trine to your Sun should help you to be aware of your emotional needs a bit more than some Cap Moons, but this trine is part of a Grand Trine formation which includes your retrograde Saturn on the Taurus 7th cusp. Frequently this indicates a lack of a father figure, you may have had to be your own dad. This is probably linked with the themes of your first house Chiron. You might lock up emotionally in romantic relationships because of this. It’s perhaps something that you inwardly berate yourself for and can become rather depressed about, feeling hopeless to change the pattern. Perhaps you know when you should open up or should be warmer, but you feel like you can’t. It’s especially unfortunate because you are very, very loving and so very serious about commitment. You want your relationships to stand the test of time. I will point out the mutual reception of your Moon with this Saturn- you can solve this, these planets want to help each other, it’s just hard work. The blockage comes from being so very, very cautious and careful that sometimes you paralyze yourself. You may also allow yourself to miss worldly opportunities due to a lack of a sure outcome. Change is not something you are comfortable with; in fact, you can be a very rigid individual. This structure will take you far in life but make sure you don’t completely box in your soul during the process. Sometimes you must keep in mind that you can’t plan everything (and you are probably thinking ‘yes I can’ right now), because of the uncontrollable element of surprise. Which I’m sure you hate. Looking at this chart, I can see how sometimes this extremely rigid way of public/romantic behavior can actually create obstacles for you in the area of your career. Sometimes you need to let go a little- not only will you feel better, but it can be helpful to your success, which is what really matters to you. It causes problems in your home life as well; sometimes you might just flip out uncharacteristically because you’ve been repressing and controlling yourself so hard. This is a very visible part of your personality, people see you as a sober, reliable individual, withdrawn with a depressive streak but loving.

People feel Scorpio ascendants intensely. With your ascendant ruler and co-ruler in your first house, you come off as extremely intense to others. In fact, while in public you can seem withdrawn, people are surprised when dealing with you one-on-one that you come on strongly with single-minded purpose. You create your own images and slip between them as needed, in the typical manner of Scorpionic transformation. You know how to present yourself to get what you want. For this reason, your appearance is very important to you. When people use the term “commanding an appearance” they’re talking about you. You select your clothing, hairstyles, mannerisms for a specific effect. Nothing is trivial. You are not to be trifled with, a formidable opponent, and people do sense that about you. This danger forms part of your innate sex appeal; you are a black widow. Do they want you to fuck them or kill them? They don’ t know…maybe both? You are truly a creative force though, and people see readily the huge amounts of energy you encompass and the countless irons in the fire that you so innately maintain. You have a great deal of power over others, even in a social sense- people are commanded by you. You are a highly passionate person, the fires that burn within you sizzle through that famous Scorpion stare. You are such a brave person. A born leader. Because of all this, it can be challenging for you to stand aside and share power with others. In fact, you may have literally no desire to do this. You are a very capable leader and most probably the one who should be in charge in a given situation, just make sure you take charge in a non-despotic sort of way. Express your energy and enthusiasm for success rather than your control and natural power. See where others operate from and seek to unite them with their goals and they will happily follow their brave, benevolent leader and they will praise you while they do. Oh, a last note that I forgot to point out. Your North Node sits smack on your Leo MC. Leadership in your career is simply a part of your destiny in this life. Strive and go towards it- do not lock yourself at home and deprive the world of your power.