#I also have a weakness for miserable little men who have been denied understanding by other people

[ushsblog]

what do you think they did very right about cedric. like. what is your favourite part of his story

or you may not choose fav just tell some thoughts about a very good one in your opinion

I’ve been thinking about this for a while because there are so many moments in Cedric’s story that I love. I think what they did well with him was showing such a great evolution. His personality is also endearing in its own way.

It’s not like he magically became good at some point; he always had this duality between wanting to follow through with his plans and preserving the friendship he had formed with Sofia, which I find to be a very compelling conflict. I especially love his 'relapse' in the Sorcerer’s Day episode.

In general, I really like his backstory about the incident, how everyone distanced themselves from him, and how that shaped who he is, because his psychology is so interesting.

It’s hard to choose because I love so many moments of his, but a top 3 would be something like:

1. When he’s a substitute teacher at Royal Prep.

2. When he teaches Sofia magic.

3. When he rescues Sofia from the amulet.

I think I like it mostly because it shows that what he wanted was to be taken seriously, for others to stop seeing him as a failure. And that he longed for the friendship, care, and respect that was denied to him after the incident.

[peachsayshi]

Chapter 6 - Festival

Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

Tags: Friends with Benefits, Smut, Teasing and a little bit of Fluff.

Summary: Your best friend Rina is curious about what's been keeping you so busy, and the two of you run into Gojo and his student at a food festival.

A/N: I have been working on my jjk fics but this chapter was a little bit difficult for me to write. A little bit of backstory and plot building here. Gojo and personal space? Non-existent. You can't tell me that the man wouldn't abuse his flirting rights.

- - - 

“Aren’t you a little warm in that top?”

Rina glanced at the high collared t-shirt you were wearing under your mini dress. The top covered the marks that Gojo left on your neck but the material was a little too thick for the summer heat. Thankfully, there was a breeze cooling you off otherwise you would be dripping with sweat.

“I’m fine,” you replied, directing your attention onto the vendors instead of your best friend’s narrowed eyes.

Rina asked you to come along to check out a food festival set up in the city. The entire district was lined with painted stalls which made for a picture perfect scene. The rich aroma of cooked food danced around you, enticing the bustling crowd that was growing in numbers. From golden battered fried takoyaki balls to mouthwatering barbecued yakitori, rainbow cotton candy that sent strings of sugar into the air and sweet kakigori to cleanse the palette…

Everything was making your stomach grumble.

“Oh, let’s get okonomiyaki!” Rina suggested.

After picking up your orders, you both sat at an empty table where you could enjoy your meal. You were ignoring the way Rina continued looking at you suspiciously, clearly not letting go of her obsession with the top you were wearing.

“Okay, that’s it. Let me see it.”

“See what?” you questioned, covering your mouth as you tried to chew on your food.

“The hickey you are hiding.”

You nearly choked as you swallowed but Rina didn’t flinch at your reaction. You patted your chest lightly, clearing your throat as you gathered your thoughts.

“I’m not hiding anything!” you replied defensively.

Rina rolled her eyes at you, “then at least tell me who the guy is…”

You waved your arm nonchalantly in her direction, desperately trying to avoid getting into a losing battle with your best friend. If there was one person in the world who didn’t need superhuman abilities to tell what you were thinking - it was Rina. She read you like an open book, making it near impossible for you to keep a secret from her. How you managed to go this long without her figuring out you were hooking up with Gojo was a miracle.

“I just want to know exactly what has been keeping you so busy recently,” she continued, “I’m having a hard time believing it’s work because you would be in a miserable mood if you were spending all your free time at the office.”

“ Or we can talk about how absolutely delicious this is...” you blurted, letting her words travel in your ear and out the other as you pointed at the meal in front of you.

Rina lifted her brow, shaking her head in disapproval. She calmly placed her chopsticks on her plate, leaning forward a little closer to you before hooking her finger in the collar of your shirt and tugging it down to check your neck.

“LIAR!”

You clasped your hand over the mark, your eyes widening as you prodded your best friend with your other finger.

“Oh, you are in trouble!” a sly smile spread across her pretty face, “when did you start dating again? I thought you swore off men after what happened with the fitness instructor..”

“Please don’t remind me of him…”

“Then who is this mystery man that you are hiding?”

You pressed your lips together, hesitant to reveal the truth about the deal you and Gojo had made. Yes, you were having fun together and none of it was supposed to be as serious as you were making it out in your head. In fact, Rina would probably applaud you for initiating this to begin with.

But…

Rina also liked to ask hard questions: why were you using him instead of confronting your heartbreak? Why were you chasing after something false instead of trying for real love again? Do you really want to risk ruining the friendship you both have?

Those were questions that you didn’t have the answers to.

“It’s...It’s some guy at work, you don’t know him…” you stated, finally settling on a good enough excuse to satisfy her curiosity

“How long have you been seeing him?”

“Just a few weeks…” you fibbed.

“Tell me what he’s like?”

“Uhh…he’s fun, I guess …handsome, kind of charming…but it’s only been a few dates, I still don’t really know him well yet.”

You swallowed hard, hating yourself for not having the courage to tell Rina the truth. Your best friend continued throwing questions at you while your brain spat out the answers before you could even think things through, your guilt twisting your insides with all the lies you were spewing.

“I’m sorry for not telling you sooner…”

Rina smiled, placing a hand on your shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. “I just want you to be happy. If you like this guy, you should give him a chance. Who knows, maybe this could turn into something serious…”

“I am not really looking for anything serious,” you admitted, allowing yourself to be vulnerable. “At least not right now…”

How could you want something serious after what happened?

You and your ex-boyfriend were together for five years. You met him when you were both at university and he swept you off your feet. His handsomeness showed through his kind personality and he always managed to make you smile. He was your first of many things, including this painful heartbreak.

You hated yourself for getting comfortable with him, for allowing your mind to plan a future that you both could share. You were disappointed that he made you fall in love with him but more so, that he abandoned you to piece together what was left.

You always felt like you never had your closure. When you asked him why he cheated, he never gave you a solid answer. He was ashamed for keeping his infidelity a secret for so long that his only response was a pathetic apology.

Who was this woman that he was willing to jeopardize your relationship for?

Why did he stop loving you?

You blamed yourself because you couldn’t understand.

One minute you were happy and the next you found yourself betrayed in the worst way possible.

You had enough respect for yourself to know that you couldn’t stay with a man who would treat you this way. When you broke up, you expected him to beg for your forgiveness. He was your prince charming, of course he would come crawling back.

You only knew that he had moved on with his lover when you caught the two of them at the supermarket together. They were buying peas, completely entranced with one another and the adoration that your former boyfriend used to look at you with was now passed on to the woman with golden hair.

He was your weakness and you…

You still loved him.  

Rina’s eyes shifted to the crowd, pausing when she recognised a face among the sea of strangers.

“Oh! Look who is over there!”

You glanced over your shoulder, following her line of sight until you saw your dirty little secret wave at you from a distance.

Gojo was eating ice cream, mindlessly swerving around the crowd and looking exceptionally fine in his summer fit. Adorned on the top of his head were cat ears, a little souvenir trinket that some of the vendors were selling at their stalls. His free arm was draped across a teen boy’s shoulder, whose unamused face indicated that he was not keen on being here.

“Rina-chan!” Gojo sang as he approached your table, “it’s nice to see you!”

“You too! How are things?”

“Great! Busy with the usual but today I decided to stop by with my student. This is Megumi…”

The boy awkwardly bowed to greet you and Rina.

“It’s nice to meet you both…”

Gojo’s shades slid down his nose slightly, and you caught a glimpse of those blue eyes. When he winked in your direction, you couldn’t help but blush.

“What are you two up to?” he casually asked.

“Well, I finally got Miss “Busy All The Time” to myself today and we just had some okonomiyaki, that guy over there is selling it…”

Gojo hummed and swirled his tongue around his vanilla ice cream before calmly replying, “I know, she’s been so preoccupied lately! Oi, when are we going to have our catch up session?”

Your face grew warmer, Gojo was good at keeping secrets and him playing off like he hasn’t been the one taking up all of your spare time only resulted in you staring at him with furrowed brows.

Thankfully, Megumi interrupted the conversation.

“I’m going to walk around for a bit,” he stated, turning his heel to walk away from your little group.

“I’ll meet up with you in a minute,” Gojo replied with a nod.

“I’m also going to use this opportunity to find the restroom. Gojo can keep you company until I get back,” Rina added, as she stood up from her seat.

Gojo gave her a thumbs up, “happily!”

The sorcerer took Rina’s place, sitting down across from you while his long legs bumped into yours as he adjusted his position. He paused for a moment, watching your friend and his student disperse into the crowd before finally returning his attention back to you.

“Nice outfit by the way but a little warm for today’s weather in my opinion.”

“I wonder whose fault that is…” you mused, pressing your lips together to stop yourself from smiling at his teasing comment, “I bet you think you’re so cute assuming you’re completely innocent in all this.”

Gojo smiled, “Actually, I know I’m cute.”

You couldn’t deny it, even right now as you watched him with those ridiculous cat ears that pulled back his white locks. He definitely was catching the eye of every girl and guy who passed by.

You flicked one of the black ears on his head,  “this is a new look for you…”

“I bought it for Megumi but he wasn’t too pleased wearing it around, kept saying that I was embarrassing him...” Gojo explained with a frown.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on your thighs and bringing the ice cream in his hand to your face.

“Want a taste?” he asked innocently.

Your heart skipped a beat, unaware that Gojo would get this close to you in public. He knew that you hadn't told anybody about what you both have been doing and you wondered if he was deliberately trying to put you in an awkward position. You subconsciously scanned the crowd to see if Rina or Megumi were around.

You tilted your head back slightly before asking, “do you understand the concept of personal space?”

“Relax,” Gojo said in a low voice, “no one is paying attention to us.”

“What if they come back…”

“I’ll see them before they see us,” he replied with confidence, grazing his free hand over your thigh. “Besides, you look like you could use something to cool you off…”

You arched your brow, deciding to give in and play this little flirtation game. You bit your bottom lip, gently wrapping your hand around his slender fingers and slowly leaning forward to lick the ice cream off his cone. You kept your gaze on Gojo, focusing on the devilish smirk that spread across his lips as he watched with approval.

“Mmm, that is good…” you moaned, before looking at him with glittering eyes, “wait, I didn’t get any ice cream on my face, did I?”

Gojo chuckled under his breath, “you’ve got a little something right here…”

His hand moved up to your face, his fingers holding your chin as he brought your lips to his. You inhaled, holding your breath as you were caught off guard by him stealing a kiss. The moment was fleeting and before you knew it, he parted his lips from yours but trailed his hand down your neck to take a peek at the hickey he left on your skin.

“I usually don’t care about where I mark you but if it’s a big concern I’ll make sure to do it in places where only I can see…”

Even though he spoke in a low whisper, you felt like it was loud enough for the whole crowd to hear how flustered you just got by his words.

You cleared your throat, turning your face away from him to regain your composure. “Behave, Satoru…”

“Mmm,” he hummed, “I could keep going but Rina will be back in any minute…”

You sensed a hint of annoyance in his voice when he said that.

The sorcerer leaned back, inviting the space that separated you both as he ate his ice cream with indifference. Sometimes you wish you could flip the switch as easily as he did but you found it impossible.

Rina arrived before you could even respond to his statement.

“What did I miss?” she asked, patting Gojo lightly on the shoulder to request returning to her seat.

“Nothing special,” Gojo answered with a shrug as he stood up , “I think I’m going to head back and find this kid before he leaves without me knowing.”

“Enjoy the rest of your evening! Also, you should stop by the candy shop sometime. I’ve been working on some new treats I think you might like…”

“I will,” he promised, stretching the lying game even further. He proceeded to remove the headband he was wearing, his white hair flopping over his shades as he handed you the cat ears. “Hold on to these for me won’t you…”

You took it, puzzled by the sudden gesture.

“What for?”

“Just an excuse to pick it up from you later,” he remarked innocently, “otherwise I’ll never see you!”

Rina laughed, clearly not catching on to his hidden invitation. Gojo waved goodbye and walked away, leaving you both to return to your date.

For a moment you thought your lie was about to catch up to you but realised that it was easy keeping this secret because nobody would expect you to hook up with Gojo.

You guys have been playing this song and dance for a while, saving your flirtatious banter and curiosities for when you two were alone together. Maybe you’ll come clean eventually, but for now you wanted to enjoy the bubble you were in.

You played with the cat ears in your hand, completely unaware that you were smiling to yourself.

- CHAPTER 7: GAMES - 

[linkspooky]

Hi, I’m Link and it’s time to talk about my terrible / horrible / amazing taste in men. If you are a bastard who is planning to destroy the world because of your unresolved trauma, please call me. Kiss kiss.

Also I’m tagging @thyandrawrites​ and @inumaqi​ who by law have to do this with me. 

Shigaraki Tomura - MY HERO ACADEMIA

“What I really despise is everything. Everything that breathes pisses me off.”

I like how Shigaraki is severely mentally ill. He’s one of the most raw portrayals of an abuse victim.  He murders his abusive father, and the story takes his side. He develops violent tendencies, he refuses to grow up, he can’t forgive. He’s just holding all of his negative feelings inside of him as he slowly rots inside out, and that’s just great.

Shigaraki is so shaped and moulded by his abuse, but he still chooses who he wants to be. He was literally raised in a basement to be a carbon copy of AFO, and yet he’s so different from AFO it’s obvious he could never live up to his Sensei. He’s too bad of a person to ever be a hero, but he’s also too good of a person to ever be the king of evil and what you get is this really chaotic mess in between.

It’s interested to see who Shigaraki chooses to be, in spite of how much he has been indoctrinated towards a cause and how many choices are taken away from him. Despite being a character with supposedly little agency you can see he always tries to fight for his own agency. Don’t deny me. He can’t be with his family even though he loves them, because they’ll never accept him for who he is. Tenko was a kind boy who played with the bullied kids. Shigaraki fights for the people who would never be saved by hero society because he wasn’t saved. He gives them what he doesn’t have, freedom and a place to belong. It’s an interesting character to see how much of him has become the unpredictable ball of trauma that Shigaraki is, while the core of him Tenko still remains in his humanizing moments of how he interacts with the league. Shigaraki who has so many choices taken from him, chooses to reach out and sympathize with the feelings of others, especially those who have been ostracized the same way he has.

Shigaraki is introduced to us as an inhuman  monster, and we see him slowly work his way back from the edge. We see him regain his humanity by coming to care about the people under his wing. It gives you the message that there’s no such thing as a point of no return.

All of the heroes are good people in mha but that feels more like an informed character trait. We’re supposed to root for them because… they’re the heroes, they’re good. They have to look good because they’re the good guys. Shigaraki is allowed to be ugly and unlikable, he gets worse.  But then he still always chooses to fight for ugly victims like him. I like both sides of him, I like the volatile explosive bomb that just wants to blow up and destroy others, and the gentle way he interacts with the rest of the league.

Kumagawa Misogi - MEDAKA BOX

“I want to beat them. Even though I’m not cool, or strong, or just, or beautiful, or cute, or pretty, I want to beat the cool strong just beautiful cute and pretty people.”

Kumagawa is aggressively mediocre. He’s a good for nothing.  He’s like the embodiment of a bad victim,  he blames everyone else, he lashes out. He has nothing but flaws but he still strives to be better than what he is. That’s what so inspiring about his character. Even if you’re miserable it doesn’t mean you have to be having a miserable time about it. Kumagawa will push back against anything, even if the whole world is pushing down on his shoulders.

He has a vibe with his character that even if you’re the worst person in the world don’t run away from who you are. You have to accept yourself exactly as you are without lies or artifice before you can start to improve.  That’s why kumagawa tries to accept the ugliness of people.

He’s very sympathetic with other people, but that isn’t there to make him look like a good person. If anything he always sympathizes with the victim too much and encourages their worst qualities.  At the beginning of the series hes so desperate to heal the wounds of these traumatized, people he’s taken in he just encourages them to lash out because that’s something. Kumagawa is just this very nihilistic, and fatalist character who is somehow at the same time one of the most optimistic characters ever written. He’s a lazy good for nothing, but he tries hard. He’s fickle and childish, but he never gives up. He might never get better, he might always lose in the end, but he still thinks the struggle to win is always inherently worth it. He gives all of himself in everything he does, and to the people around him. And he always gets hurt because of it, but that pain is just living.

He’s completely insane but he’s also living his life the best way he can. There’s just such a manic, insane, and positive energy to his character. Kumagawa will accept you at your worst, and yet he’ll still encourage you to be better. I also like characters written to represent the ugliness in people, and striving to find beauty in that ugliness rather than characters who are just happy all the time because they’re good people.

Natsuki Subaru - RE ZERO

“You think I’m getting drunk on my own tragedy just so I can shut everyone up?”

like how Subaru is a shitty person but not in a really interesting way,  but in a really petty, self absorbed and weak way. I like it because the world doesn’t tolerate his bs, he is continually punished and kicked in the teeth for it. He doesn’t have a tragic backstory before the story begins. His tragic backstory is that he did nothing, made nothing of his life, but he still feels entitled and expects to be rewarded. There’s nothing special about him, but he wants to be treated like he’s special.

I’m usually protagonist-phobic because most stories center around the main character so a lot of the time the world bends to their whims in unnatural ways. Subaru is the main character, but hes not the protagonist, and not even particularly important which is why he’s valid.

Subaru is continually  punished for his mistakes and I love the way we see how trauma changes him and shapes him.  His narrative  reads to me as a metaphor for a mentally ill person with the absolute worst habits constantly struggling to be better despite constant backtracking. That’s why with the constant resets in his narrative, none of his actions ever seem to matter. Even when he makes progress he loses it just as quickly, and the world seems indifferent to his suffering. Because the stroy isn’t actually about the world, it’s about Subaru’s personal journey to learn to be a less shitty person.

Subaru is confronted with the fact that hes a very self important and entitled person and he chooses to grow from that rather than run away. He’s so self aware by this point he knows hes the most annoying human on earth and he owns it.

Doma - KIMETSU NO YAIBA

“From a young age I was kind and clever. I always helped people and made them happy, because that was my mission.”

Doma’s story is hard to empathize with because it doesn’t really look tragic. It’s more like a comedy. He’s smiling the whole way through.

Doma feels like an inhuman monster and he chooses to act that way. Literally everything in this story just tells you he was basically born that way. Doma tells you himself. But like, if you look into his background he was raised in a literal cult. Doma despises the cult, because he could see through it. He could see the adults were using him even as a child. But at the same time Doma’s heart has never really left the cult either. Doma, like everybody else, unintentionally reflects the environment he grew up in.

Doma’s just never been shown real tears or a real smile, so he doesn’t know it. He sees his parents kill each other in front of them, and feels nothing, because they literally never acted like parents to him once. He sees life as empty because to him, it is. And then.

By the time he encounters the real thing it’s too late for him. I just like this part of Doma that’s like, emptily trying to imitate all the other humans around him, and feel the things they feel, and always falling short because of his jacked up sense of empathy. It’s adorable.   Doma doesn’t feel human at all. He couldn’t possibly understand what a normal human being feels because he’s never lived that life. He’s a total human failure. Rather than try to be something he feels like he’s not, he decides to embrace his inhumanity.

Iichan - ZAREGOTO

“Nonsense.”

Iichan is a character who doesn’t want to choose, but wants to be chosen regardless. In other words Iichan has a paradoxical way of thinking about his life. He’s not the main character. He’s not important. So therefore, whatever happens around him he’s not at fault. However, he is the centerpiece of a tragedy. He’s still important in the sense that all of this tragic suffering is being unleashed upon him. Being the main character of the tragedy means his suffering is important and meaningful, but none of it is ever his fault, and he can’t help it.

That way he avoids ever having to take responsiblity for his actions, or do the hard work of trying to change as a person. He’s a narcicisst, but he hates himself, and he tries to balance out his total egoism by constantly playing up his own suffering and how much he loathes himself. That’s where the main character of the tragedy complex comes in.

What’s interesting about Iichan is that for all the tricks and avoidance he goes through, he’s very self aware as a character. He knows how deficient he is in comparison to others and how his problems really aren’t as important in the grand scheme of things. That’s why it’s interesting to watch all the mental gymnastics he goes through.

Knowing that the author also knows that Iichan is a tool, and clearly frames him as such, I can appreciate the more positive parts of his character. I can know that deep down, despite everything he does want to become a person that’s capable of making the other people in his life happy. He just doesn’t know how.

Hitoshiki Zerozaki - NINGEN

“What a riot.”

Iichan’s equal and opposite force. His boy on the other side of the mirror. What if your reflection in the mirror could talk, and what if it was laughing at you? That’s basically Zerozaki’s character in a nutshell.

Iichan is a character who dwells on his intense mediocrity and desires to be special because of it. Zerozaki is the opposite, he’s been special all of his life and has no idea what a normal life is even like.

Zerozaki is a murderer from a family of murderers and yet he doesn’t enjoy murder. He doesn’t feel its evil or feel a lot of remorse. He feels nothing at all about killing,  he thinks people who kill for pleasure are weird, and kills at random.

What I like about Zerozaki is that he’s way more human and down to earth than his perfect foil iichan even though he’s a murderer. Despite being a psycho killer he makes connections with other killers, his little sister, and ninoumiya. A human failure who’s way too human, and that somehow makes him even more of a failure.

Emiya Shirou / Heroic Spirit Emiya - FATE / STAY NIGHT.

“So as I pray. Unlimited Blade Works.”

Counterfeit. Hypocrite. Holy shit. A fake who knows that his desire to save people doesn’t come from the goodness of his heart, but his own selfish desire to be a hero. Shirou emiya is the only valid protagonist, because he’s an extremely traumatized deconstruction of every protagonist before him. Shirou’s not a good person. Shirou’s barely even a person. He has friends but he doesn’t really feel like he deserves to have them. He smiles, but he doesn’t mean it.

I love how Shirou is so terrible at handling his own trauma that he thinks having a strong sense of justice is a personality.  I love how Shirous need to sacrifice himself makes him an idiot and is something his narrative continually gruesomely punishes. He has one of the most brutal narratives ever, and the writing behind his character serves to highlight how Shirou’s bad decision making not only hurts himself, but literally everybody around him.

I love how Shirou has completely emptied out as a person and feels unable to feel basic emotions because its totally relatable.  He just copes so poorly, but at the same time there’s something beautiful in Shirous struggle to be a good person. Shirou has completely given up on himself as a person, but he still wants to help other people, and so he keeps trying.

Getou Suguru - JUJUTSU KAISEN

“I hate monkeys.”

Some villains just want to destroy everything for reasons deeply rooted to emotional trauma. I feel like I’m repeating myself here.

I like characters where empathy is a dangerous quality to have. Getou is driven to villainy because he cares, overwhelmingly so. He cares about people’s individual agency and freedom and rights to be happy and sees the world stomp on it. His breaking point was that he wanted a girl who had been raised as a literal human sacrifice for the system her entire life to be able to live out the rest of her life free as a person, and being completely powerless and unable to help her as she was killed. Getou was struck in that moment by the inherent unfairness in the world and it broke him.

Empathy is such a debilitating flaw for Getou that he literally has to decide certain people  are human and disqualify others from being human so his brain doesn’t completely break. Being a decent caring guy in Getous world breaks you.

Getou tries so hard not to care,  to be the maniacal laughing villain he claims to be, but his empathy is the one part of his brain he can never shut off. Even as the most hated man in the world he protects weak and exploited people and takes them in as a family. He does everything he does to make a better world for the people he cares about, and that’s why he’s so broken because the ones he doesn’t care about he’s completely fine with sacrificing en masse.

Akechi Goro - PERSONA 5

“JUSTICE?! RIGHTEOUS?! KEEP THAT SHIT TO YOURSELVES! YOU AND YOUR TEAMMATES PISS ME OFF!!”

I like Goro way more for his potential rather than what we see in canon, but there’s a lot of strong ideas his character is written with. I love the idea that Goro wants to be a good person, wants to be connected to others, but is far too dmaged and because of that

He can only pretend to be a good person and play people pleaser to others. he’s someone who desires at the core of his being to be righteous, and failing that he becomes self-righteous instead. I just love how thoroughly fake he is as a person, and how that makes him covet the real thing.

I also love the insane, twisted and obsessive part of Akechi. I love how much he hates the world for rejecting him, and how much of his actions are just petty revenge on the world, his father, every single person who rejected him. I love him when he’s at his most desperate, when he’s screaming at the people he’s trying to kill asking them why nobody wants him around even though he’s famous and popular.

Ogata Hyakunosuke - GOLDEN KAMUY

Walk your own wild path. Straight and true.

Ogata is a character that is somehow incredibly complex and nuanced character with tons of carefully written development in story, and also a character you have no fucking clue what’s going on in his head. Basically, Ogata is a masterpiece.

Ogata feels like the other half of the story. Sugimoto acts,  Ogata reacts.  Sugimoto chases, Ogata evades.  We are uncomfortably deep in Sugimotos head, but we only catch brief glimpses of Ogatas moments of Frank honesty. The entire story is about Sugimoto and Ogata chaisng after each other and everything else seems incidental sometime. Ogata’s not the main character, but he’s the other half of the heart of the narrative that’s about these really, really bad murderous men who are deeply broken trying to find a way to live in a world without war.

Its not that Ogata is unfeeling it’s that he never allows himself to feel. What other characters lost during the war, Ogata never had in the first place. He sees himself as deformed and malnourished compared to everybody else. Ogatas always been noticing the difference between - himself and others.Even if he wanted to love his brother he kept comparing himself to his father’s beloved son, and realizing how much he lacked. He just kept being reminded over and over again what a child who was loved could have turned out as.  Eventually Ogata convinced himself he was unfeeling. Because somehow that’s easier. He can process everything that happened in his life if he’s detached from it all watching from a tree somewhere.  He’s so repressed he doesn’t allow himself to feel guilt about his brothers death because he doesn’t view himself as a person capable of loving another. However, just like Sugis desire is to be saved from the hell of war deep down theres a kid in Ogata who wanted to be a good son

Ogata is basically my main point of investment in Golden Kamuy, I just want to see him unravel like a big ball of yarn.

[dontdietwd]

Day 68

Maggie had prepared a couch for me to sleep in another room, complete with sheets and a pillow with pillowcase and all, and they smelled like fabric softener. That night, though, I was not able to sleep as easily as I had been the past few days; even though I was exhausted my body was still too alert from everything that had happened that day. The room was silent, real quiet, as was the whole house after Carl’s surgery and the news about Otis’ death.

Carl was saved. Hershel, bless the man, had saved him using the equipment Shane had brought back. Damn, that must have been a hard fight for Shane, you could see in his face how shocked he was, simply by the way his breathing had yet to return to normal when I last saw him that night, and I don’t think he had blinked in hours.

The story was weird, though… Otis told Shane to leave without him, that he’d stall the walkers? Well, I guess everybody knows the best way to stall walkers is to, you know, get eaten by them. Did Otis really sacrifice himself so Shane could bring back the equipment? Sounded weird. He was feeling guilty for shooting Carl, but was he that guilty that he’d just, I don’t know, get himself eaten?

It gave me a chill to think about that I was thinking might mean. Fuck, I hoped I was wrong…

At some point I fell asleep, but it felt like only ten minutes or so had passed when I woke up to the bright room. All was still quiet and I took a moment to understand where I was, but when I did, I felt panic surging though me. Why was everything so silent, where was everyone, is Carl ok, where are the others, is Daryl here yet?

I left the room as I tied by dreads up making a knot with two of them. In the kitchen, Maggie was pouring a cup of coffee in front of Patricia, who looked miserable, big shadows under her eyes showing she wasn’t able to sleep at all that night. I had no idea what to say. I hadn’t spoken to her yet, yesterday she had cried and cried and nothing anybody could say would make anything better. They all had cried. Maggie and Beth, her younger sister, cried because Otis had been running the farm since Maggie was a toddler, Hershel had cried because Otis had been like a son to him, but their pain was dwarfed by Patricia’s. It was clear how much of a good man Otis had been and how loved he was.

Beth looked up to see me there, standing by the kitchen door without saying a word. She nodded, trying a smile as a good morning and nodded towards a chair. I was feeling terribly awkward, like I shouldn’t be there, it wasn’t my place. They were a family; it should be their moment.

But Maggie rested a hand on my shoulder as I sat, “How’d you sleep?”

“Not much, but well,” I told her. “Thank you.”

She nodded and poured me coffee too. There was silence then as she sat and started buttering a toast to place in front of Patricia, who had yet to touch her coffee.

“Patricia…” I started, but I had no idea how I’d finish that sentence. “I know I and any of the others are the last people you want to talk to now…” and she raised her eyes to me, the pain there feeling like a kick on my chest. “But I’m sorry. I’m so sorry… None of what happened to Carl was his fault, and Carl is fine… Otis should be here and fine too.”

I understood then what I was feeling: guilty. This was my group, my people, and it was our very presence that got her husband killed. If I hadn’t let Carl come with us – I could have called Lori back and said no, it’s dangerous, it’s best if he stays with the larger group, but I just accepted. If I hadn’t been weak and felt sick yesterday I would have been able to go with Shane, and I would never be left behind because I’d fight and I’d come back in one piece, I would never tell Shane to leave me behind, and Otis would be safe at the farm. I could have –

But Patricia stopped my thoughts right then, reaching a hand over the table to touch mine, “Sam, listen to me. None of this was your fault. It’s not anybody’s fault. It’s a tragedy. A good man like Otis losing his life? A tragedy. The same thing the world is made of now. Not your fault.”

I was tearing up with her now. Damn, these were good people. They did not deserve this, any of this… By my side Beth was also crying, drying her cheeks. I squeezed Patricia’s hand, thankful for her words.

Hershel came in a little while later, and then Glenn and Theo too. They offered us breakfast and I felt like we shouldn’t accept, like we were already too much trouble there. Both men accepted, tough, starved, and Maggie would not allow me to not accept at least a buttered toast. Which I was thankful for, because it was amazing. I even ate another one with honey, the heavens.

After eating, Hershel asked us all to help them organize a burial for Otis. There was no body, so it would have to be just a memorial. He stayed with Carl, Rick and Lori inside while we went outside to gather a few stones. We all heard the motor sounds coming down the road and, looking afar, I saw Daryl on his bike open the small caravan, the second car and the RV following.

It was a good sight. My people. Daryl.

The stones were all in the hand cart already, so I motioned Glenn, Theo and Shane to go back with me to the house, and the others followed. Theo went inside to tell Rick they had arrived and I waited for them outside.

They parked by Otis’ truck. I went to stand close to where Daryl was hopping off the bike. He was as dirty as usual, like the last shower he’d taken at the CDC had been months ago, and he didn’t smile, a worried look on his face as he looked me over, his eyes stopping on my eyebrow.

“Hey,” he greeted me, “What happened there?”

I raised my hand to the bandage, “Just a twig as I was running.”

“What the hell happened yesterday?”

He asked but everyone else wanted to hear it too. Dale, Carol, Andrea, they all stood close to the bike to hear me tell it all. I summarized it all since we split up at the church, until Otis’s fate and the surgery. They all looked around nervously at the Greene’s, who were all standing there close to the porch stairs when I told one of them had died as he tried to save Carl. When I finished, Rick and Lori were already out.

“And how is he now?” Dale asked, looking from me to Rick who was behind me.

“He’ll pull through. Thanks to Hershel and his people,” and he looked around to find Shane standing a bit away from the group, “and Shane. We’d have lost Carl of not for him.”

There were hugs and thank gods after that, everyone relieved the boy was alright. As they did so, I turned to face the family who’d help us so much since yesterday and introduced each one of them.

“You’re all welcome to stay as Carl recovers and you look for the lost girl,” Hershel said firmly, and I could see he was not comfortable at all with all of us there. “You can set camp there under the trees,” he pointed to the right of the house, a bit ahead. “Rick, Lori, you’re welcome to stay in with Carl as he recovers,” and at their nods, he looked again around at everyone gathered around, “but before you set camp, we have a funeral to attend to.”

 * * *

 We all stood awkwardly a little behind, but still close enough to form a half circle around the pile of stones that was Otis’ grave. Hershel was praying as each one of them placed a stone on it, and Patricia was crying quietly as she listened to the words. As I stood between Daryl and Glenn, not knowing what to do with my hands, I heard Hershel call Otis their most precious asset, and my heart clenched a little in guilt.

We got that man killed.

“Shane?” we all looked at him as Hershel called his name, and his flinch was visible. “Will you speak for Otis?”

He denied promptly, but Patricia insisted, because he had been with Otis until the last moment. He’d shared his last minutes of life. At her teary words, he couldn’t say no anymore. So he started talking, narrating the last moments, how he was limping and hurt and Otis said he had to go, thrusted him the bags and ordered him to go ahead, to run, that he would take the rear and cover him. When he looked back, Otis was gone, it’s what Shane said.

Ok, but, what? If Shane was the one hurt, limping, why did Otis was the one to be left behind? Why didn’t they both run, why didn’t Otis help Shane run, did he really have to stay behind and try alone to detain the walkers even with no more rounds to shoot? I mean… What?

Slowly people left the area, Patricia remaining behind to be alone for a moment at the grave. I walked away with Daryl in the direction of where we’d set camp.

“We gotta start looking for Sophia,” he said. “Nearly mid-morning already, can’t waste time.”

“Okay. I’ll separate the group in two, some can stay here and set the camp. I’ll see if Mr. Greene can help with the area, maybe he knows better places where we can look for her,” we approached the trees and I saw Shane sitting on the RV steps and Rick talking to Lori at a shade. Mr. Greene was there, speaking to Dale nearby. “Mr. Greene?” I called out and he looked over as Daryl and I approached him by a car. “We’re ready to restart our search for Sophia. I was wondering if you can give us some information about the area?”

He was real helpful, saying how far away the creek elongated, how many acres of woodland surrounded the farm, and Daryl asked him questions about the terrain. They were talking for a few minutes, Rick, Shane and Andrea also approaching, apparently ready to help with the search, when Maggie brought a map.

“That’ll help a lot, Maggie, thank you,” I told her. “We can set specific areas and set groups for each, make sure we cover it all. It will be easier from now on.”

“We’ll do it right now, then,” Rick said, eyeing the map. “We can set the groups later on,” and he pointed at the farm on the map, his finger sliding to an area right at south of it, “but today we can start –”

“Not you,” Mr. Greene stopped him. “Not today. You gave three units of blood. You wouldn’t be hiking five minutes in this heat without passing out,” and he looked at Shane, “and your ankle? Push it now, you’ll be laid out for a month. No good to anybody.”

“It’s fine, just us for today then,” I said nodding at Daryl’s direction. “The others stay to set up camp.”

“You sure you can handle it?”, Maggie asked me. “Felt sick yesterday.”

“Yesterday I didn’t eat, I ran over two miles and there was all the scare… I’m fine today, ate well, we got water. I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll keep an eye on her,” Daryl said as he took the map and started folding it. “We’ll go back to the creek, work our way from there.”

“Shane, you can take a car and circle back to the road,” I told him. “See if there are any signs of Sophia there.”

“Sure thing,” he agreed promptly.

“Alright,” Rick said and Mr. Greene was right, he did look pale and weak. “Tomorrow then, we’ll start doing this right.”

“That means we can’t have our people out there with just knives,” Shane said stopping people from leaving the conversation. “They need the gun training we’ve stopped since the quarry.”

“Shane, we’ve been through this,” I said, mentally rolling my eyes. Again, really? “Gun trainin’, alright, but guns will always be our last resource. The noise and all, I’d prefer is we did a knife training.”

“I’d prefer you not carrying guns on my property,” Mr. Greene said before Shane could retort. “We’ve managed this far without turning this into an armed camp.”

“All due respect, you get a crowd of those things wandering in here –”

“Not our decision, Shane,” I cut him off, I knew where he was going. He immediately breathed hard, licking his teeth with his lips closed. “It’s Mr. Greene’s property, we’re guests here. Hell, we ain’t even guests, we all but barged in and he was kind enough to let us stay for a while,” and I looked from Shane’s angry expression to the others around. Daryl nodded at me when I looked at him, and Rick did too. “Daryl and I will put our guns away when we come back, we’ll need them out there,’ and as I finished I nodded at the direction of Rick’s gun.

He understood, being the first one to take it off and place it on the hood of the car. Shane was clearly pissed and not bothering to hide it as he did the same.

“I hate to be the one to ask, but somebody’s got to,” Shane said, “What happens if we find her and she’s bit?”

“You know damn well what we gotta go,” Daryl said, his voice grave.

“We all know,” I agreed.

“And what do we hell her mother?” Maggie asked, a bit of a shock in her face.

“The truth,” was all Andrea said for the whole conversation.

I saw it, there was a look between Maggie and her father. He shook his head at her, telling her something. But well, not my business. My business was finding Sophia, in any state she might be now, having people safe and leave as soon as Carl could travel.

“Shane, will you set up security?” I said to him, letting it pass.

“I’ll gather and secure all weapons,” he said after a nod, now in control of his anger. “Make sure no one’s carrying ‘till we’re at a practice range off site. But Mr. Greene, I do request one rifleman on lookout. Dale’s got experience.”

Mr. Greene looked at me for a moment. Shane’s request made a lot of sense, a lookout was crucial in such an open area like this.

“People would feel safer,” Rick also agreed. “Less inclined to carry a gun.”

He thought for a moment, looked at us and nodded, solemnly.

“Thank you, Mr. Greene,” I told him and looked at Daryl by my side. With a nod, we both walked away as I mumbled only to him, “Damn, sometimes I want so fuckin’ much to just bitch slap this guy!”

He laughed quickly in surprise at my comment and stopped me by the trees, “You sure you fine to go tracking today?”

“I’m sure.”

“You feel anything, you tell me and we come right back, alright?”

I smiled. This time, I don’t know why, I didn’t get bothered by his worry. I was sweet. I said nothing, just smiled up at him and he frowned in confusion.

“What?”

“You,” I said simply.

“Me what?”

“All worried ‘bout me.”

He made a pfff sound that made me smile more, and looked down, “Just don’ wanna have to carry your ass all the way back to the farm, is all.”

I laughed and would retort but Maggie approached, “Hey, sorry,” she said for interrupting. “I got a pharmacy run in town, we’re low on meds. Rick suggested Glenn should go with me. That ok?”

“Uh…” I thought, considering the implications. “Is it safe?”

“Pretty much, yes. I’ve done this before alone,”

“And Mr. Greene?”

“Told him already, it’s fine.”

“Well, I don’t see why not, if he’s up to it.”

She nodded with a little smile and moved to speak to Glenn and I looked back at Daryl, “We gotta take water and something to eat during the day.”

“I’ll get somethin’ from the bag,” and he moved away to the RV, where our bags were still piled under the table. Oh, speaking of water.

“Rick?” I called him out and he looked at me as he passed the area to where we’d set the tents. “We need to bring all those water gallons from the road, you up to it?”

He nodded across the area, ‘I’ll just check up on Carl and I’ll head to the road with Shane, then.”

“We got water, more than enough,” Maggie said from near me where she was talking to Glenn. “Got five wells in our land, house draws directly from number one,” and she pointed somewhere near the house. Well number two is right over there,” she pointed again, “we use it for the cattle but it’s just as pure. Take all you need. There’s a cart and containers in the generator shed behind the house.”

This girl was an angel. Rick didn’t have to go to the road and could stay with Carl, which was better for everyone. With Daryl leaving with me, Glenn going to the pharmacy with Maggie, Theo with his arm stitched up and Dale on guard, there were no other people to go get the gallons.

People dispersed and I started checking on my weapons, how much ammo I had, the knife on my hip, choosing one god axe from the shed Maggie had mentioned, and then I had to go inside the farm house to use the bathroom before we left. Daryl was impatiently waiting for me, saying we were wasting time and light and to just fucking go already. So we did, and on the way out of the farm, we found part of the group standing around one of the wells Maggie had pointed out. Strangely, Glenn was sitting on the side of it, legs in, with a rope around his waist.

“What’s going on?” I asked and Daryl huffed by my side, knowing it would be something else to stall us.

“There’s a walker down the well,” Dale told me as if this was enough information.

I looked at Glenn, “And you look like you’re ready to go down there, why?” and I leaned a bit to look down there. Yep, there was a walker. The ugliest, most disgusting walker I had seen so far. I made a face and a weird sound, I assume.

“We gotta take it out of there,” Shane said, same old tone. “Thought of shooting it but the brains will come out and probably infect the water.”

I looked down again, “Probably infected already. And, hold on, your plan for getting the walker out of there is sending Glenn down?”

“Yeah,” Andrea said, her pose similar to Shane’s. “He’ll tie it and we’ll pull him out, no big deal.”

I laughed. I really did laugh, “No big deal? Ok then. But just – just a quick question: have you all lost your fuckin’ minds?!”

“Now hold on,” Shane started taking that famous step towards me he as he had done many times before and, again, Daryl took a step closer. “We need clean water, only way to –”

“Only way?!” I stopped him and turned to the others, “Maggie, didn’t you say there are five wells in the property?”, she nodded and I looked at the others and at Shane again. “That makes four good ones! This one’s probably infected already, gotta seal it and not use anymore,” I looked at Maggie, “for the safety of your cattle.”

“How we you possibly know if it is infected?” Lori asked, arms crossed.

“How can we know it’s not? You taking any chances? I’m ain’t drinking it. Would you give Carl this water?”

I didn’t wait for her to answer because it was obvious. Nobody said anything else but I could see Shane’s annoyance and I knew maybe I was being too harsh, but whatever. They wanted to send Glenn down there, I mean, what the fuck? How were these people gonna survive? So I went to Glenn, grabbed him from behind under his armpits and all but dragged him out of the well entrance.

“Please, Glenn,” I said as I let go and he got to his feet. “Please, stop agreeing to anything people tell you to do. Do you realize what you were about to do?”

“Yeah…” he said lamely. “You right, I know you’re right.”

“And look,” I looked at the others, “I don’t give a shit if you think I’m being an ass about this, I just want us all to be alive. You don’t have to like it or me or whatever, just don’t send people down wells with walkers inside!”

I turned to go, but heard Theo say “But what do we do with –”

He stopped though, because as he spoke Daryl aimed down the well and shot an arrow down, stopping the walker’s groans instantly. Then he turned away from them and joined me on the way out of the farm.

I was quiet for a while as we walked, Daryl leading the way just a step in front of me. I was so pissed I felt like screaming. Didn’t people have anything better to do? Set up camp, volunteer to go look for Sophia, help the Greenes with house chores, carry buckets of water from the other wells? I mean, I don’t know, anything but lowering a person down a well with a walker! Glenn could have died down there, didn’t they see it?

“Stop,” I heard Daryl’s voice cut my thoughts as he walked without looking at me.

“What?”

“You thinkin’ so hard it’s like you’re screamin.” I tried speaking but I ended up just groaning in anger and Daryl turned to me, stopping. “You done dealt with it, let it go. And Glenn’s a big boy, coulda’ve said no. Ya can’t control everything they do, you’ll go insane.”

“I know, you’re right…” and I started walking again, Daryl this time staying by my side. “I just wish they’d have some brains, you know... Common sense? It’s so obvious that they shouldn’t be doing that, I can’t understand – and I’m doing it again. Sorry, I’ll – you’re right, I’ll stop.”

“Good, ‘cause I gotta be tracking and you’re distracting me.”

Just then we abruptly left the woods, arriving at a large area with a big two story house right there. We stopped in silence to watch, and finally all the thoughts left my mind. It was completely silent, no signs of life or death. I removed my axe from a hoop on my belt as Daryl slid the crossbow from his shoulder, took an arrow from its holster and armed it. He walked in front of me, being the only one with a shooting weapon – I did have my two guns but wasn’t about to use them for just anything. We circled the house once, as silently as possible and stopped by the front door. He looked back at me quickly with a nod and then kicked it. It busted open with a loud noise and we still remained there, my axe in hand and up, waiting for any groan to come from a startled walker, but none came.

He entered the house then and I followed, staying in the hallway as he entered each room there, silently. I had to admire it. He was tall and strong, but moved quietly and real light on his feet. And as he held the heavy crossbow up, his arms were tense and damn, those arms.

We looked up a stair case but didn’t go up just yet. He entered the decrepit kitchen and the room beyond that as I stood by the door, eyeing the hall and the back door.

“Clear,” he told me in a low voice.

I turned to enter the kitchen as he was taking something from the trash and I approached. It was a can of sardine, still fresh. Somebody had been there recently, we both agreed with a look. This was a god sign. Daryl then looked beyond me and nudged me to get out of the way. Turning, I saw he was looking at a pantry door, so I stood behind. With his bow aimed, he opened the door carefully. It was empty save from some cans on the shelves.

He stood there observing it and I approached, crouching down to look at the pillow and blanket that had been left there. Touching it, I looked up at him.

“Could’ve been her.”

“Coulda been anybody, ain’t no way to tell”, he corrected me but paused. “But yeah, coulda been her.”

I got up and we left the kitchen, Daryl taking position in front of me again as we ascended the stairs. It creaked loudly midway up and we both froze for a moment, waiting for anything to happen, but there was no sound so we kept on up. The upper floor was also clear. It was a big house, I counted at least six bedrooms up there, many bathrooms, and it was not in such a bad shape as the ground floor. It was a good house. Before going down we looted a little, trying to find anything useful. I did find a pair of boots that were my size, but they were too worn out so I didn’t mind to take them. There were folded sheets and pillow cases in a wardrobe, which I put inside my still empty backpack. I kept looking and Daryl went downstairs again and after a moment I heard him shout Sophia’s name, just in case. I ended up taking a few hair ties, one half used toothpaste and a pack of pads for the other girls from the bathrooms, and a few abandoned pieces of clothing from the bedrooms.

When I went downstairs, I found him a bit away from the house, looking at a few wild flowers. They were quite pretty. I approached quietly and he explained why he was looking at them. He told me a story about a Cherokee tribe and the mothers with missing children, and how these flowers, the Cherokee Roses, were a sign of hope for them, as they bloomed from where the mother’s tears fell. I wondered how he knew such a beautiful story, but it didn’t matter because in the end, he surprised me even more as he said, “Reminded me of Carol.”

 * * *

 When we got back, Daryl and I went separate ways. I saw him entering the RV as I gave Theo my backpack, he said he’d sort the things and I was glad to see he looked so much better than the night before. Glenn was also back and he was smiling goofily. Weird, no run can go so well you’ll smile like that. I crossed the grassy area and went to the house. In Carl’s room, I saw he was awake and talking softly to Rick as if very sleepy, but he had some color back and I felt a little weight being lifted from my heart.

He was really going to be okay, one of our two children was fine and that at least was something.

Rick followed me out, “Sam, can we speak for a moment?”

“Uh, sure…” I moved to sit on the porch steps and he sat by my side. “Everything okay?”

“It is,” he nodded emphatically. “Carl is fine, talking, he’ll fully recover. The group is fine as well, finally in a safe place…” he was gonna keep talking but I spoke over him.

“In what looks like a safe place.”

“Look around, Sam,” he clearly disagreed and I looked to where his eyes were pointing. The group was by the trees, tents armed, Shane starting a fire, and I understood what he meant, it looked good. “This is a good place, somewhere we can settle and make things work.”

“What are you talking about, Rick?”

He breathed before saying, “I asked Hershel to let us stay. Indefinitely.”

“You did.”

Oh, hold on, wait a minute, when the hell did he decide to do that?

“I did. He said no at first, but I insisted.”

“Why, Rick?

“Why?” he looked at me. “Because this is a good place!”

“He said no, and you insisted,” I affirmed to make him move on, because I had so much to say about this that I preferred to wait.

“I did. He said that if we all follow his rules, he’ll think about it.”

“His no weapons rule?”

“Yes, but he did make it sound like there will be more rules. I told him we can do that.”

“We have to know all the rules before agreeing to them, Rick.”

“I say anything will be worth it if he lets us stay!”

“I say you need to think this through and that we shoulda talked about this before asking him!”

“And why is that, Sam?” he challenged. “You don’t think we could stay and make it good here?”

“Rick, just…” I tried to control my temper. “Think about it, okay, bear with me. When Carl was shot, we found the farm. Otis just pointed in the general direction and I ran. I was weak from hunger and heat, pregnant, didn’t know where it was, ran real fast for over two miles, had a cut and blood all over my eye. And yet, all I had to do was jump over the fence and come right to the porch. If I did it, anyone can do it. Dead or alive. Anybody can just climb over a fence and get to us, bite and kill us, or rob everything we have,” I paused and I saw his eyes wander away from me, thinking. “It ain’t safe. It’s good, but it ain’t safe, and safety must be our priority.”

“We’ll have lookouts,” he said, still insisting.

“One person on top of the RV with a rifle will not work as lookout for the entire property. It’s acres large, lots of fenced area that nobody will be looking at for most part of the time. I’m being realistic here, Rick. It is a good place, of course it is, there’s cattle, room to plant stuff, grow food, space for everyone, yeah, I can see that. But none of this will do any good is we can get invaded at any second.”

Rick looked away, to the group again, tried saying something, then huffed and lowered his head to his hands.

“I know you’re anxious to find a god place for your wife and son, I understand that. But that’s exactly why we all need to think things through before doing anything. Before asking Mr. Greene to let us just live here forever.”

“What is your plan, then?” he looked again at me and I could see he had understood my point because he was not so confrontational anymore.

“Not a plan yet, just ideas. Many ideas. What we need, Rick… Is walls.”

He paused, his head low and looking at me sideways, and he said, “Walls.” It wasn’t a question.

“Walls. A gate and walls. Some place we can close and secure and live inside,” I looked away, around the area. “Was talking to Daryl about it. Something like any abandoned condo, a hotel, a gated community, even a school would do, as long as any of those places have walls around it. With space for everyone, green area where we can plant stuff, because one day all the canned food will be gone. That’s what I mean, Rick.”

He looked baffled. I’m sure he hadn’t thought that far in the future.

“And if Hershel says yes? We’ll just say thanks but no thanks and leave anyway?”

I said nothing for a while, thinking about it.

“If he says yes, we’ll stay. But we gotta plan and put some action into it as fast as possible. Find a way to fortify, set up an area, pro’ly not the entire farm, that we can build around. It’ll definitely make it not look as beautiful as it does now, but we’ll build walls. With, I don’t know… Tree trunks or bricks if we can find enough. Mr. Greene will have to agree to that as well.”

“And if we do stay… We’ll have to be under his rules… Indefinitely.”

I raised my eyebrows, a tight smile, my head tilting a little, “Do you see it now?”

He nodded, thoughtfully, and after a moment got up, a hand patting my knee briefly, “Thanks for the talk.���

Well, I was glad someone in the group was capable of fucking listening.

 * * *

 It was already dark when I noticed I hadn’t fixed my stuff yet, no tent, bags, folding bed, nothing. I didn’t assume for a moment I’d be crashing on Mr. Greene’s couch again. I was moving to the RV to get the tent when I saw an orange form from among a few trees, a bit away from the other tents. My own tent being the only bright orange one, it got my attention. Moving there, I reached an area still under the trees, but at least 90 feet away from everybody else’s, and sure enough, there was my tent ready and set right by Daryl’s pale blue one. I looked inside to see my foldable bed set and the sleeping bag on it, my personal bag on the floor and a box turned over to make up a little side table with an oil lamp on it. Where did this oil lamp come from?

Coming out of the tent, I saw Daryl approaching with fire wood in his arms. He saw me then and let the wood fall to the ground.

“So this farm’s got magical properties or something that people’s tents get set on their own?”

“Yeah, also known as Dixon doin’ it for ya ‘cause you can’t set it up yourself,” and he crouched down to organize the wood he’d dropped.

“Hey, I could learn and do it myself!” and he made his pff sound again. “Why here away from the others?” I finally asked.

“Did you see me campin’ close to the others at the quarry?”

“No… But that was before,” and I sat down on the tarp he’s set under my tent, the end of it making a small area right in front of it. “Now you know’em better, it’s been a while.”

“Ain’t like I got friends with nobody,” he stopped, resting an arm over his bent knee. “You wanna move your over there, be my guest, I’m stayin’.”

“Nah… Been socializing too much for my likes. Can use some peace.”

He looked at me but said nothing, turning quickly to start a fire with his lighter and we were silent for a while. I kept looking at him and he didn’t seem to notice, and I caught myself once again admiring his form. Damn those arms. I didn’t know what was happening.

Alright, fine! I did know. I was very much, really, very much attracted to him. How could I not be, he was gorgeous! It’d be better if he was a bit cleaner, sure, but you can’t have it all during the apocalypse. And damn, did he have to cut off the sleeves of every damn shirt he owned? He was doing it on purpose, I bet.

Sure it was physical. I’d been alone for nearly three months; the last person I’d been with was a one-night stand that knocked me up. Before the world ended I was never alone for too long. Relationships, no, but having fun with guys I found attractive? Hell yeah. I’ve no shame in saying that, I was a free woman, owed nothing to no one, sexually active and damn, now I was thinking about sex. And I missed it. I missed it a lot.

But was it just attraction? Or was it simply Daryl? The way he and I had gotten close, how well we worked together, how I knew I could count on him for whatever I needed? He had my back, I could dare to call him a partner. He was a rough man, rude plenty of times, but was gentle in the way he cared about me. And it was not just that, it was how much I admired him. Smart without being arrogant, talented and built for this new world, and he cared about the people around him even though he’d never say so. The way he was worried about Sophia and cared so much about finding her, about her mother. He was a good man, Daryl was, and I was sure it was all that, plus the obvious attraction, that got me having all those feelings for him.

Maybe I was ready to admit to myself that I had feelings for Daryl.

He’d been staring at me for many seconds when I caught myself. I laughed a little, ore like a giggle, so fucking awkwardly, and looked away, reaching to untie my boots just to have something other than him to look at.

“What was that?” he asked and I noticed there was already a small fire going on next to him.

“What? Nothing!” I answered too quickly.

“Was you thinkin’ ‘bout the well and Glenn again?” he turned to poke at the fire to make it warmer.

It was my turn to pfff, “Last person I was thinkin’ about was Glenn.”

He looked at me, the arm resting on his knee as he crouched all tensed up and damn, I looked away quickly again, pulling the first boot off. “Was ‘bout a person then.”

Did he sound… Bothered? Maybe the thought I was thinking about any other person, not him, and it bothered him… Well, wasn’t that interesting?

“No, I was just –” Think faster, Sam! “I was thinkin’ about the things I miss,” meh, nearly a good one. “From before.”

I removed the other boot and wiggled my toes inside my socks.

“And what is that?”

He decided the fire was good enough for now and kind of dragged himself over to the tarp without getting up, dropping by my side but not too close. Ok, now I had to think about the things I missed.

I missed sex.

“Well…” I removed one sock. “My routine was just… It sucked. Was wake up before the sun, two buses to go work at the diner, have lunch, another bus to the other diner in the afternoon, another bus to school at night, study all those crap what I’d have no use to but I needed because I wanted to finish high school, and then two buses to go back home late at night… Getting often harassed when I got there… Only to start it all over again the next day.”

He hummed, “Miss that?”

I laughed, “No fuckin’ way! In his area, the end of the world was not so bad. I was thinking ‘bout the weekends,” I said as I massaged my own foot, leg bent to rest it on top of my other thigh. “I still had work at least one of the diners in the mornings, so I’d wake up early and take all the buses just the same, but after I left… There was this group of people, it was something kinda unofficial, we’d just meet at a park, you know Wells Park?” he nodded. “And we’d stay there or go somewhere else so we’d practice parkour. We’d be at it for hours… One of the guys was a gym teacher at a local school, so he helped us all with the stretches and other stuff to stay in shape. It was…” I paused thinking of it for a moment. “Lifted all the weight I carried with me all week from my shoulders.”

He nodded and was quiet for a moment, thoughtful, looking at the fire. Around us, night had fallen and the rest of the group was gathered in camping chairs around their own fire and crickets and cicadas were singing loudly. It was peaceful.

“You can still do that,” he said quietly after a moment and I removed the sock from my other foot. “Do this… Thing you did. Plenty space.”

“I could. But one important thing to parkour is that ya can’t be afraid. Careful, yeah, but not afraid. Fear will hold you back in moments you just can’t hold back.”

“You afraid?” he looked at me.

I nodded slowly and in silence for a moment before answering, “I guess… Yeah. There’s a child in here now. It’s all different.”

He gave the that slow nod again, his teeth biting on his lower lip and he eyed me massaging my foot, “Suppose it is.”

Extending a hand to point at my foot, Daryl gestured me to let him take it. I was utterly confused, but he just insisted wordlessly. Baffled, I turned on my place to face him as he did the same, sitting with his right leg bent over the tarp and the other extended out, and we sat facing each other. I rested my left bare foot on his crossed leg and he placed his hands on it, warm and strong, and started doing the same massage I’d been doing.

Damn, I was so fucked. No returning after the point the guy you like massages your foot. Done. Done and over with.

I said nothing, just groaned, because his massage was so much better than my own, and he pressed his thumbs strongly on the arch. At my long, low groan he looked up from my foot to me and that little, enticing sideways smile came up again.

Fuck, the man was killing me.

“Will ya cut the crap now and tell me what you was really thinkin’ about?”

I opened my eyes to look at him. When had I closed my eyes?

“What?”

“You don’ wanna share, you don’ gotta,” and he looked at my foot again as he started pressing on my toes and I’m sure my eyes rolled to the back of my head. I leaned back, resting my weight on my arms behind me. “But you wasn’t thinking ‘bout no parkour.”

Baffled. Fucking baffled.

I smiled with my eyebrows frowned in disbelief, “How can you possibly know that?”

“You don’ think I know ya?”

I stuttered a bit, making a pfff among the meaningless sounds and was finally able to formulate “To the point you know what I was thinking?!”

“I don’ know what you was thinkin’, just what you wasn’t.”

He motioned me to place the other foot there as well and put one hand on each, his thumbs pressing and sliding against both soles. I didn’t groan this time: I moaned. I fucking moaned and let myself fall back, lying on the tarp, an arm pillowing my head. He paused for a moment, just holding my foot and I looked at him. He seemed a bit confused.

“Don’t stop…” I asked and it was clear how sexual the whole things sounded. He moved his hands again, still looking at me. “Okay,” I conceded. I couldn’t believe I was gonna tell him that. “As much as I do miss parkour, you’re right, it ain’t what I was thinkin’ of…” I looked up at the sky visible among the tree leaves above us. “When I quit the drugs and drinking I did it on my own. There were no clinics, no treatments… No people around supporting me. It was all me… So I pro’ly didn’t do it right. Didn’t… Not in the healthiest way, I’m sure. But it worked, went through withdrawals and all, and after they passed I… Managed. But what I did was, I kinda… Substituted one urge for another,” his hands were now on top of my feet, massaging the area it met my leg. “And this other urge is what I miss. These days way much more than drinking. It’s what I was thinking about.”

Please don’t ask me what it is. Please don’t ask me what it is.

“What is it?”

Damn.

I looked back at him and stared for a moment, saying nothing, our eyes locked and his hands still moving on my skin.

Oh, how I wanted to jump him.

“What is your addiction, Daryl?” I asked instead.

The side smile was back as he slowly shook his head, “Liked weed a lot. Kinda miss it. What’s yours?”

Fuck it, I was just gonna say it. Let it in the open, just… Tell him. The way he was pressing on my feet and looking down at me, there was no way he’d be bothered by me telling him that. He’d like it, wouldn’t he? He’d like knowing what I was thinking before as I stared at him was sex.

But there was movement somewhere behind our tents and it startled us. I sat up, booking back, my feet withdrawing from his hands. Daryl straightened his back and a hand rested on the knife on his belt. After a moment we recognized Lori sneaking away from the camp, going alone to the meadow and disappearing from sight.

Moment was gone.

I looked back at him and he seemed to be coming out of a hypnosis or something, a bit confused. We locked eyes and looked away quickly. I’m sure he knew what I’d been talking about, or it wouldn’t be this awkward now the moment had passed.

“I’d better go to sleep,” he said as he pushed himself up. “Got lookout in a couple of hours.”

“Yeah, sure,” I tried to sound nonchalant as he approached the entrance of his tent. “G’night.”

“Night,” he replied quickly and zipped himself inside.

That night I covered my mouth with a hand to muffle any sound as I tried to mimic the feeling.  Nearly worked, but it wasn’t nearly as good as the real thing, not even close to what I thought it’d be with Daryl. But at least it got me to sleep.

[wafflewarriors]

The Not-So-French Mistake

Chapter 8: Putting Tissues in Teen Issues

Sydney was still jittery when the stationed tents had grown quiet. She was heedful of the shrill pops and cracks of staticky fabric against fabric as she sat up. Each tooth of the tent's zipper was meticulously grating as she tugged it open. She worried it would wake a fellow camper and would result in a need to excuse her absence.

She climbed onto the soft, chalky dirt, and stood, surveying for watching eyes. She sighed, stealthily creeping past without brushing against stray weeds. Her stolen boots―originally Dean's boots―rasped and scuffed against the chapped soil, unreasonably wide for her feet.

When she had successfully passed them, her breath became less demanding. She wandered for a minute, reviewing the path she had raged through during her pathetic tantrum.

She forgot how to breathe as a forearm hammered into her chest and slammed her against a dusty drywall. She floundered, the breath knocked out of her lungs. The broad silhouette in front of her was barely lit by the pale, inky moonlight that pooled over his shoulders, but it was unmistakable. “Dean?” was her fearful whisper.

He faltered, realizing who he had struck. He loosened his hold for a more breathable position, but held firmly. “I knew we couldn't trust you.”

She croaked in protest, “I can explain!”

“Explain, then.” he said, just as a silvery line entered her peripheral vision: a gun.

She flinched, peeking timidly at the barrel aimed at her jaw. She inhaled shakily, a knot coiling in her throat as she watched the weapon with meek fright. Her anxiety pushed at her lungs, not allowing a full breath. Just because she was familiar with guns did not mean she wasn't intimidated by them. One hasty finger and she would be a goner.

Shaping words was more difficult than she had wished. “There was an angel―” It came out garbled, but intelligible.

“An angel? When?”

“When you all decided to ditch me! People started disappearing, and somebody had to act, so I did! We ran a search party, and he just appeared, and said he could help, and... and I just wanted to go home, you know? He said to meet alone!” She squeaked, unshed tears welling up in her eyes as her anxiety spiked. “I swear it!” Her thoughts were in an erratic frenzy: please don’t shoot me, please don't shoot me―

He looked to her with uncertainty and distrust, though his gaze never wavered. “Alone? You said people started disappearing, and you didn't think that you might have applied to the list?” There was a minuscule twitch in Dean's brow.

“I had a few people with me! We just split for a moment, and he showed up―”

Rather than his previous betrayed expression, he now looked incredulously at her. His lip twisted upward, baring his canines fiercely. “Split for a moment? You have got to be kidding me. That's all it took for someone to go MIA!”

“Yeah, but―”

“God!” The gun had withdrawn and he rubbed his forehead in aged worry. “I told you not do anything stupid!”

It was my fault, she thought bitterly. This, all of this, my fault. She'd watched enough Supernatural episodes to understand that. When someone relatively new entered the show, they, without fail, regardless of whether they were blissfully unaware of the fact, would wind up dead. The list ran on: Mary, Jess, John, Ellen, Jo, Benny, Kevin, Charlie, even Bobby almost wound up dead… anyone who so much as spoke with a Winchester ended up as a ticking time bomb.

Sydney wasn't stupid, and wasn't suicidal like Dean appeared to believe―she was just holding herself responsible. Responsible for the deaths of the town, no matter what they told her. With her scrambled memory, she could have even contributed to the brutality. The thought sent shivers spastically through her nerves. Having been introduced as an ally, only to discover her terrible crimes she couldn't even remember. 

How ironic would it be―to be slain by Sam and Dean Winchester, the men she believed could have saved her. It wasn't unlikely―Supernatural loved to hurl painful twists in plots such as this. Toss in a likeable character and present them as innocent, only to discover their selfish background.

Sydney was a ‘witness’ of the Winchesters: the fresh blood in the miserable show, doomed to fall at the hands of the mysterious evil Sam and Dean miraculously stumble upon each episode. And witnesses typically died. She withheld this knowledge from Dean, as he would only deny the painful, aching truth.

It wasn't if she would die; it was when, and how painfully.

She didn't even blink as the ugly thoughts rifled throughout her mind. She only shrugged sheepishly, eyes brought down to the tarnished leather of his boots encompassing her petite ankles. Tepid air seeped into the open gape of the boots, encircling her ankles like prickling cuffs linking her feet to the ground in arrest. “Sorry.” The apology was weak, she knew, but Dean, she hoped, would buy into it.

He sighed, though visibly relaxing, clapping a hand on her shoulder as a show of forgiveness. “I'm going to come with you, okay? If all goes to worst, I have an angel blade with me.” He displayed the chromium-like handle poking from the inner pocket of his jacket.

She contemplated it, but Dean Winchester wasn't one to bargain; his decision was final. She yearned to argue and challenge it, but it was hopeless. Maybe another day, she thought wistfully. She nodded, loose boots shuffling fine puffs of dirt as they tread the alley that eventually led to the abandoned hotel.

From the outside, the hotel was made of flame-licked limestone, the structure tilted to the left to accommodate the molten temperatures. The entire set up was unstable, and there were risks of it collapsing without the addition of a trap. 

“You seriously went in there? This is like... a giant Jenga block on the 40th turn.” 

In short, the meeting place was not one for cowards. It was difficult to believe that this morning she had blindly stormed in there, smashing windows and kicking doors, when the entire building looked as if it would topple with a shift of breath.

Albeit, Dean wasn't a coward, so he took his chances and entered the building with Sydney at his heels.

She wanted to skip the jeopardous mission as her anxiety pitched upward, dangerously close to panic. Without Dean, she could have debated her chances and abandoned her plan if she had felt it too risky, and then snuck back to the camp as if it had never occurred. With Dean, she was either in or out, and she was petrified it would lead her to a premature death; however, she was grateful for his presence, despite the odds.

She skirted around an overturned sofa she had earlier thrown, swallowing her apprehension. “So… what, uh… what gave it away? I know you're a hunter an all… but I was pretty quiet. I mean, do you sleep that lightly?”

A stifled snicker lit his face and he vainly hid his bemused chuckling through a few failing coughs. She wasn't sure what was so funny. “Actually... I was awake. Sleep doesn't always come easy, you know... but someone's gotta watch the town with the threat of kidnapping, and all. Also, my boots do not fit your little feet. You sounded like Barney out there―stomping around like that.” 

She smacked him on the shoulder. “Hey!”

He surrendered willingly. “Joking, joking. Jeez, you don't hit soft, do you?” He rubbed at the slightly tender, pink imprint left by her hand. “Actually, you were okay. You're light on your feet, but my boots kind of neutralized your skills.”

“Oh.”

Sydney possessed the same weepy puppy-dog eyes that Sam had, and it rattled Dean like nothing else. “You’re certain you don’t want to stick around? Cas practically treats you like family, and with some training, you'd make a great hunter, you know. We, uh… we have a guest room in the bunker.”

He’s offering me to stay, Sydney finally processed. “I―you're serious?”

He smiled, eyes soft like green tea. “Yeah, Pipsqueak. I mean it. We could use you around.” He nudged her playfully, “Whaddaya say?”

 She blushed, flattered that the literal freaking Winchesters were fond of her presence. It was the highest compliment she could receive from Dean Winchester. She was... honored. "I'll... I'll consider it," she said, slightly dazed.

Dean grinned genuinely, fondness crinkling his eyes. “All right then.” He examined the room the corridor had led to and wrinkled his nose. “You sure this is the place? It’s kind of… sketchy.”

The drywall resembled a chipped egg, missing flakes forming cracks along the aged paint like veins. The carpet crimped away from the walls to reveal the darkened floorboards tainted with mold. Everything metal was rusted: namely the window frame, the outdated heater, and the outlet were all corroded and stained with the ugly umber hue. The carpet reeked of mold and mildew, shriveling the air around it with it’s musty odor.

She stiffened, embracing the lingering heat that breathed into the hallway. “That's where I was...” Kidnapped, she wanted to say, but the words didn't pass her gaping jaw. “How... how didn't I notice..?” she mumbled, dumbfounded.

She had been so absorbed with her childish fit that she hadn't come to notice that her evening chat had occured in the room she first arose in.

Dean’s posture suddenly became protective, looming over her as a shield for anything that dare approach. His hand ventured from his side to her shoulder-blade, and he stepped in front of her, tucking her into his inner-elbow.

Yet, the room was vacant. Only the occasional wisp of paper in the waft of flushed air disturbed the silence, which hardly indicated the scorching temperatures they had endured merely hours ago. A note had been set in the center of the room, fluttering at the slightest air current, a dance of stark-white contrasting the hotel room's dimmed pigments.

Dean shot her a look of caution, suggesting she not not enter for her own wellbeing.  He was concerned it was trap set explicitly for her, and he would not have an inexperienced child's blood on his hands because he hadn't been too watchful.

Sydney knew there was no choice here. Dean's judgment would forever override her own, and he would veto any dangerous suggestions decisively. Dean wielded the power here, and technically this―

“This is a dictatorship.” ~Dean Winchester

Sydney recoiled, staggering backward. Her temples throbbed as a memory heaved through her train of thought for no reason whatsoever. Except, that hadn't been her memory.

For the second time since she'd been here, something was seriously wrong.

When she had been occupied with dimensional research at Bobby's house, she had been struck with a voice narrating Dean's car in which she had never heard, yet recognized, and did not recall the name Chuck Shurley, but she sensed a familiarity from watching the show. Prophet, right? More like God, she supposed.

Nothing had even triggered it, it had just overrun her mind, overwhelming her with the addition of pins and needles, and tense muscles.

“Sydney?”

She had no influence over the involuntary fragments of flashbacks: it just struck her like an axe through a layered wall―

“Now, Sam, I'm gonna put up a barrier inside your mind. It might feel a little... itchy. But do me a favor―don't scratch the wall. Because trust me―you're not gonna like what happens.” ~Death

Sydney gritted her teeth as the new memory invaded, yanking any stray ideas back into the pits of her aching mind. It hurt to remember, and they gave her no context anyway. It added no motivation to prod further or seek answers, but it continued so, nonetheless. Poking at the wall in her mind had not been intentional, and hardly considered curious behavior.

Where was she obtaining such memories if they weren't her own? Her discussion with Dean about her memories being altered appeared to be exceedingly more probable.

It was slightly unnerving to rediscover the Winchesters’ memories. Or at least, that's what she now assumed they were, as these only frequently occurring when around them. The flashbacks only enhanced her skeptical view of the entire am I even human? angst that she now carried as baggage.

If she wasn't human, what was she?

“Sydney!”

Tags:

@queen-bubble, @rosaren2498

[luckydicekirby]

*predicatable* the daudsider fic where daud gets killed by hc corvo...

LMAO honestly thank you i love talking about this fic…the original idea behind this was realizing that if Corvo kills Daud at the end of Brigmore Witches, it’s by cutting his throat. And that’s how the Outsider died, so obviously they should talk about it! Weirdly this ended up being kind of an afterthought in the fic itself, which is mostly just Daud being gay and sad, as is his legal right. I guess this is the only time I’ve really written Daud POV. Or actually Daud at all? I tend to mention him a lot in fics as a rhetorical device but he never really shows up, oops. 

wrapped around your ankles over the waterfall, for anyone else playing along at home!

Never let it be said that Corvo Attano doesn’t know how to handle a knife. He makes it quick. Daud hardly feels the cut as it crosses his throat. He’s already fading when Corvo tosses him over the side of the building. He doesn’t feel himself hit the ground.

There is like, something subtly wrong with the rhythm of this paragraph, it reads a little flat? Two of these sentences need to be combined and then I think it would be fine. Riveting commentary I know.

When Daud contemplated death—a common enough way to kill time, for an assassin—he liked to think it might bring him peace. Foolish, to expect that peace was something he could ever have.

Daud, I think maybe thinking about dying all the time is a YOU thing.

He opens his eyes. He’s lying on stone. The Outsider peers down at him, and around them the Void is no different than it’s ever been, gray and cool and harsh.

“It was a very pretty speech,” he says. “But Corvo Attano heard enough pretty words for a lifetime when he lived in Dunwall Tower. He spent his days learning that they only ever hid viciousness and cruelty, knives poorly sheathed. The Loyalists toasted him eloquently before they poured poison down his throat. Why should he have believed yours to be any different?”

I leaned more into like, shrine-style speeches than I usually do in the Outsider’s dialogue here, probably because that kind of dialogue makes him sound like an asshole. It’s SO fun to write. 

Daud sits up and presses a hand to his neck, the place where Corvo’s knife cleaved his skin in two. His hand comes away bloody. It looks almost black in the gloom of the Void.

“You saved me,” he says, voice shredded to pieces, and the Outsider laughs.

God the kind of implied hopefulness of this is really crushing, huh.

“I don’t take sides,” he says. The lying bastard. The moment Corvo Attano was Marked, the moment the Outsider decided he was special, the outcome of this day was decided. “You’re dying, Daud, your life slipping out from between your fingers. A fitting end for a man who spent his life spilling a river of blood. I wonder what you’ll do with these final moments. Curse my name?”

“Fuck you.”

Walked right into that one my dude. Also “I don’t take sides” NEVER stops being funny unfortunately. And ‘spilling a river of blood’ I think is just straight up from one high chaos Outsider shrine speech or another.

“Always so predictable,” the Outsider muses, and Daud hates him, hates himself, hates the sick curdling feeling he always gets in his gut when the Outsider sounds disappointed. Sounds bored. The same sickness that stayed with him for fifteen years while the Outsider ignored him, until Daud blundered his way into Corvo Attano’s life and suddenly became interesting again. 

That’s being in love, Daud. Sorry, in your case it’s terminal!

“You begged him for your life. I admit, Daud, that surprised me. And Corvo refused to give it to you. Your one last request denied. How does that feel, Daud? Like justice? Like redemption?”

And this is like, endgame narration style dialogue. Good times.

It feels like blood sliding through Daud’s fingers, spilling down his coat. Dozens of people have bled on this coat. Jessamine Kaldwin did. And now Daud will be the last. “It doesn’t matter. It’s done.”

He wants it to be done. He wants the peace he knows he doesn’t deserve, but even now the Outsider won’t leave him alone, staring at him with his too dark eyes. It itches like bloodflies under his skin, the Outsider’s eyes on him, and yet Daud has never been able to hate it the way he should. He’s always craved it, as if he’s no better than the likes of Vera Moray, crooning to her rats about the black-eyed boy who will abandon her. Who abandons everyone, in time.

On the bright side, number of times Daud has made a guy into soup is still zero, so you’re still doing okay.

Corvo will feel like this one day. The thought should console Daud. It doesn’t.

“Of course it matters, Daud,” says the Outsider. He kneels down beside him and presses his hand against his throat, under Daud’s own. It’s cold, shocking enough that Daud starts, and the bastard laughs at that too. The Outsider has never touched him before. He would remember. “History is determined by men like Corvo Attano. By the men who kill Empresses and the men who take revenge. He could have let you live. He almost did. That future still hangs in the balance. A fish hooked but fighting against it. Soon enough it will have swum away.”

I love a good weird Outsider metaphor.

“So let me go,” Daud says.

The Outsider runs his thumb along the edges of Daud’s wound. It should hurt. It does hurt. Daud doesn’t try to move away. “My throat was cut, once,” he says. “The day that I was made what I am. It’s a terrible way to die. I can’t remember how I felt about it. I was going to do what you did. I was going to beg for my life. But they never gave me the chance.”

He must be telling the truth. This close, Daud can see the scar.

See I like, wrote the bit about them dying the same way and then all the subsequent dialogue I wanted to write was like, unrelated depressing gay bullshit, so I just went with that. I do like “I can’t remember how I felt about it”, it gets at everything that’s so fucked up about the Outsider’s like, whole existence. The most fun way to write the Outsider imo is just as a dude who fundamentally does not understand the human experience of anything, including his own literal human experiences.

The Outsider draws his hand back, covered now in Daud’s blood. Daud knows precisely how much blood the human body can hold, and he’s bled too much for anywhere but the Void.

I was like what am I talking about, is knowing about blood anatomy and assassin thing, but actually I think this is a joke (“joke”) about him having gone to college. 

“What would you have said?” Daud asks. He can’t look away from the Outsider’s hand.

The Outsider ignores him. He takes Daud’s jaw in his hand, smearing blood across his cheekbone, and tilts it to the side. He speaks into Daud’s ear. “Was it all my fault, Daud? Whispering in your ear, making you think you were somehow important?”

Does the Outsider ignore this question because he’s a bitch or because I couldn’t think of an answer? Who can say! 

Also the Outsider actually literally whispering in his ear is the kind of dramatic bullshit I fully believe he would do.

“You’re such a little shit,” Daud growls, and he has both hands fisted in the Outsider’s coat before he can think, before he can remember all the reasons that he has never dared touch the Outsider, no matter how much he loathes him.

“loathes” lol ok

The Outsider watches him, and does not let him go. They would be breathing the same air, if either of them were breathing anymore. “With my Mark, you thought you were going to change things. And you have.”

I still go back and forth about whether Mark/Marked should be capitalized. This ambiguity is the Outsider’s greatest crime.

I can no longer remember if there’s any canon basis for Daud ever having wanted to change the world for the better; it is my sacred duty to assume that everyone’s a sad former idealist though.

“From where I stand, the world looks exactly the same.”

“You killed an Empress, and saved her daughter. History peeled away from the curve of your blade like skin from a knife. I gave you what you wanted, Daud: the power to make your own regrets.”

Oh god what a gross metaphor. I like it a lot but also, yikes.

The Outsider slides his grip from Daud’s jaw back to his hair, and he yanks his head back. Daud chokes on nothing. He can feel blood dripping down his throat, can taste it on the back of his tongue. He clenches his fingers, and finds them too weak to hold onto the Outsider’s coat any longer.

Oh sorry I forgot the other reason I wrote this fic, “being kinda horny for people getting their throat cut” apparently. Like this blocking is so gross but, unfortunately.

“Are you going to let me die?”

“I haven’t decided yet.” The Outsider tilts his head. He looks curious. “Death made me what I am. I wonder what it would make of you.”

“A corpse,” Daud tells him.

“Daud,” says the Outsider, still so fucking disappointed. “Your problem has always been that you lack a grander vision.”

“Dead is dead.”

“Not when it happened to me.”

“I saw what was in Attano’s coat. If you make me into a thing like you did to the Empress—”

“If I wanted to cut out your heart, you would sit still and let me,” the Outsider says. “You can try to hide it with all the anger in the world, Daud, but you would do anything for me.” His voice is dispassionate, as if he were not filleting Daud to the very bone with his words.

I remember that I added this line in while editing, because Ruby got mad at me about it. “If I wanted to cut out your heart, you would let me” IS the most sarahcore thing I’ve ever written probably. Play to your strengths I guess!

Also can you imagine like, Daud style heart lines. Just miserable.

“A word from me after fifteen years, and you picked yourself up out of your guilt and grief to scour Dunwall from end to end. You didn’t have to kill Delilah to save Emily Kaldwin. You killed her because you were jealous. You thought you could kill Corvo too. But after you’d already murdered his dear Jessamine, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.”

“Shut up,” Daud says. A rasp from his ruined throat.

The Outsider kisses him, cold lips and colder tongue, and Daud makes the same noise people make when he slides a knife between their ribs.

I am pretty happy with how the tone of this fic is basically ‘getting stabbed but in a sexy way except you still very much got stabbed’. Seems right for the ship!

There’s blood on the Outsider’s mouth when he lets Daud go. Daud wants to kiss him again more than he wants to live.

God what a depressing line. I like it a lot but hey Daud? You good???

“You should let me die. You should give Attano what he wants.”

“But I am,” the Outsider says. He touches Daud’s cheek, like the parody of a lover. “Corvo wanted his revenge. But more than that, he wants to be the kind of man above needing it. The kind of man who can raise his daughter well, and teach her to be kind, and good, and all the things that Empresses should be.”

Of course. Daud bleeding out before him, and it’s all about Corvo fucking Attano. “So you’re going to save me for Attano’s sake.”

Daud is miserable and jealous: the fic.

“I told you,” the Outsider says, eyes more pitiless than the sea. “I haven’t decided yet.”

This line…is really good. I love a good snappy ending line and this is probably the best one I’ve ever gotten, tbh. nailed it past sarah! there’s also like, no universe where this fic ends in a less weird and ambiguous way, because like frankly I can’t even figure out what that would be. Like where do you go from here. Nowhere, you live in this terrible moment forever!

Anyway, sorry that the only daudsider fic I’ve ever written is mega depressing and half about the Outsider also being in love with Corvo, but he’s VERY mean to Daud so surely that makes up for it!

[lightup0nlight]

[Tafseer Juz 30] 107 Surah Al-Ma’un

Al-Ma’un means necessaries / general essentials. Some scholars even translated this word as house necessaries, such as plates, spices, tools etc. We will understand why the surah is named as such in the following discussion:

أَرَءَيۡتَ ٱلَّذِى يُكَذِّبُ بِٱلدِّينِ

{Have you seen him who denies the (Day of) Recompense?}

Allah SWT begins this surah by mentioning one of the characteristics of the Arab mushrikeen at that time – they do not believe that there will be resurrection after death for compensation of good and bad deeds.

فَذَٲلِكَ ٱلَّذِى يَدُعُّ ٱلۡيَتِيمَ

{That is he who repulses the orphan (harshly).}

In the shariah, orphans refer to children who have not reached puberty, and have lost their fathers. They are not considered as orphans if their mother passed away. Why? Because in Islam, the father bears the responsibility to provide for the family. So if the mother passed away, the child still has the father to provide him / her for.

The surah begins with the characteristic of a person who does not believe in the akhirah, followed by the characteristic of repulsing orphans harshly. He oppresses them, does not give them their just due, does not feed nor kind to them. What this means is that it’s easy for those who do not believe in the hereafter to behave harshly towards those in need, because they do not believe that actions have consequences in the akhirah.

As for the believers, they know that the reward of taking care of orphans is immense. Rasulallah ﷺ said:

“I and the person who looks after an orphan and provides for him [i.e. Kaafil], will be in Jannah like this,” putting his index and middle fingers together. [Sahih Bukhari]

This nearness that Rasulallah ﷺ indicated with his fingers shows that [Kaafil] i.e. a person who manages and takes care of orphans has a high status in the Sight of Allah SWT, so much so that he will be in Jannah near Rasulallah ﷺ!

There are rewards for those who occasionally give charity to orphans, but this is not what is meant by [kaafil] in the hadith. [Kaafil] refers to a person who takes care and manages orphans since they are young and incapable of making decisions until they grow up as capable adults. A [kaafil] takes care of all of the orphans’ necessities such as food, education, adab and character, etc – like he would take care of his own children.

وَلَا يَحُضُّ عَلَىٰ طَعَامِ ٱلۡمِسۡكِينِ

{And urges not on the feeding of the poor.}

We come back to the characteristics of a person who does not believe in the hereafter. The next ayah mentions that not only is he stingy to those in need, he also advocates for others to do the same!

Why is he doing this? Because if he sees others being charitable, then he feels humiliated, his heart feels miserable seeing others doing good. So he urges for others not to be charitable and not to feed the poor. This is one of the ugliest characteristics of a stingy, selfish person.

In our religion, feeding the poor is among the greatest acts of ‘ibadah in the Sight of Allah SWT. It is among the good deeds that can save a person from the Hellfire. There are numerous ayaat in the Qur’an mentioning this, two of them are:

1. Allah SWT says: “But he has not attempted to pass on the path that is steep (i.e. the path which will lead to goodness and success). And what will make you know the path that is steep? (It is) freeing a neck (slave). Or giving food in a day of hunger (eg. famine). To an orphan near of kin. Or to a Miskin (poor) cleaving to dust (i.e. in extreme hardship).” [Al-Balad 90 : 11-16]

2. Allah SWT about the people of Jannah asking about the people of Hellfire: “What has caused you to enter Hell?” They will say: “We were not of those who used to offer the prayers. Nor we used to feed Al-Miskin (the poor).” [Al-Muddathir 74 : 42-44]

As believers, we should not underestimate charitable deeds, especially feeding those in need.

فَوَيۡلٌ۬ لِّلۡمُصَلِّينَ

{So woe unto those who pray.}

ٱلَّذِينَ هُمۡ عَن صَلَاتِہِمۡ سَاهُونَ

{Those who are negligent of their prayer.}

Allah SWT then speaks about those who pray, but are condemned by Allah. Scholars said that being negligent of one’s prayer means:

Not fulfilling a pillar or condition of the prayer

Praying beyond the legislated time

Purposely delaying the prayer

Praying absent-mindedly without khushoo’, just to get it done and out of the way.

A person who willingly does one of these points, then a portion of the ayah {Those who are negligent of their prayer} applies to him. And whoever does all of them, then he has completed the meaning of this ayah, and the hypocrisy of actions is fulfilled in him. Therefore it’s really important to avoid doing any of these, as we do not want to be among those whom Allah calls as negligent in their prayers, what more to be called a hypocrite.

ٱلَّذِينَ هُمۡ يُرَآءُونَ

{Those who do good deeds only to be seen (by others).}

This is another characteristic of a person who prays, but whose prayer is rejected by Allah SWT. He is riya’ with his prayers, with his good deeds. Riya’ is taken from the word ruyah (i.e. to be seen). So riya’ means to make one’s deed apparent, to be seen by others, in order to earn their praises. Allah SWT says:

“Verily, the hypocrites seek to deceive Allah, but it is He Who deceives them. And when they stand up for the prayer, they stand with laziness and to be seen by men, and they do not remember Allah but little.” [An-Nisaa’ 4:142]

We need to be careful from developing riya’ with our prayer / umrah / Hajj, and any good deeds that we have done, as riya’ is not only a characteristic of a hypocrite, but it nullifies one’s good deeds as well.

وَيَمۡنَعُونَ ٱلۡمَاعُونَ

{And prevent Al-Ma’un.}

We mentioned earlier that Al-Ma’un means general necessaries. It covers all items that are usually required in one’s customs, something that does not cost much, such as a pot, a bucket, salt, etc.

This person withholds general necessities or small kindness from others. He does not wish to even lend that which may benefit others – even though the item will be returned to him. As such, you will find him to be even stingier when it comes to the obligatory zakah, and other voluntary charity.

So not only does he not worship his Rabb well (due to his negligence and riya’ in prayer), he does not treat His creation well either!

This is the correlation between stinginess and the lack of iman in the Akhirah. As believers, stinginess is a disease that we need to be cured of, because it is an indication of weak iman. The one who truly believes in the day of recompense will not be miserly, as he knows that anything he spends in the path of Allah SWT will be recompensed, and doubled. Allah SWT says:

“If you lend Allah a goodly loan (i.e. spend in Allah’s Cause), He will double it for you, and will forgive you. And Allah is Most Ready to appreciate and to reward, Most Forbearing.” [At-Taghabun 64:17]

If we have excess of al-ma’un, then give or lend them to those who are in need. Have yaqeen that sustenance only comes from Allah SWT.

This is the end of the discussion on Surah Al-Ma’un. May Allah SWT protect us from stinginess, and make us among those who are not heedless in our prayers, as well as those who are charitable to His creations. Allahumma ameen.

Insya Allah, we will continue with the next surah in the following post. For the index of suwar that has been covered in this series, please click here. Jazakumullah khayran.

[blueboxesandtrafficcones]

Things That Need Saying

For @timepetalsprompts adoption drive - Alec Hardy.

HardyxMiller, post season 3.  

Miller needs to know where they stand.  Hardy decides to tell her.  (No real mention of the case).

AO3

He’s not really surprised when the knock comes just after midnight.

On the other side of the glass, Miller stands with her arms folded, a furious look on her face.  As soon as he slid the door open, she started talking.

“You know, sometimes I really don’t get you.  Just when I think I do, you go off in a completely different direction!  Do you enjoy being alone, and miserable, and contrary? What is wrong with you?!”

He merely sighed, stepping outside and closing the door behind him, hoping she wouldn’t wake Daisy.

“What are you talking about?”

“You!  And just, who you’ve been since you came back.”

He crossed his arms, mirroring her position.

“Miller, when I was first here, I was about five and a half feet below rock bottom.  I’m in a better place now.  I’m not sure what you’re looking for.”  He patiently explained to her.

She spluttered for a moment. “I just want to know where we stand.” She finally managed.  “Are we partners?  Friends?  Colleagues, acquaintances?”

“What do you want me to say?”  His calm demeanor only served to rile her up further.

“The truth!  Are we friends?”  She shouted at him.

“Yes, we’re friends. And while technically I’m your boss, I do consider you my partner.  Is that all?”

“No, that’s not bloody all! You say we’re friends, but are we? Really?”  She doesn’t like how desperate her tone has gotten, but the bit of liquid courage she had before deciding to come over won’t let her hide it.

“Because, it doesn’t seem like it.  You don’t treat me like I’m your friend.”  She accused him.  His eyebrows raised in response.

“What are you talking about? Miller, I confide in you about Daisy, I ask your advice and sometimes even take it.  What more do you want from me?”

“All right, that’s nice, you act like I’m your friend, but what about me?  You certainly don’t seem to bother being one to me.”  She started getting frustrated, partially because of the conversation, but also because she could feel tears welling and damn it, she will not cry over this.

“How do you mean?” His tone had shifted now, and he could feel the anger building.

“You don’t ask!  Not about the boys, about how I am – three days ago, I’m crying on the steps and all I needed was a hug, and all you can do is say ‘Not all men’, as if that’s any bloody use!”  She yelled.

“Are you kidding me?”  He stared at her, incredulous, chest heaving.

She only glared right back at him, standing by her accusation.

“For God’s sake Miller – are you serious right now?  Every time, every single time, I offered you any sort of decency, or kindness, or caring, or quite frankly friendship, you all but spit in my hand!  You made it more than perfectly clear you didn’t want any of that from me, so I come back, try to respect your boundaries, and it still ends with you shouting at me!  You’re asking what I want, Miller, what the hell do you want?!”  He finally lost it, letting out his frustrations.  She’s shocked into silence, but only momentarily.

“I- I never-” She stammered ineffectually.  “When did I do any of that?”  She finally got out.

“During Danny’s case, during the trial and investigating Sandbrook.”  He told her quietly.  She went to deny it, but then realized he was right – she thought about all the times she had refused a hug from him, shouted at him, ignored his admittedly clumsy attempts at comfort.  The guilt threatened to overwhelm her, and she slowly sank into the deck chair nearby.

“You’re right.  I’m sorry.”  She whispered, looking up at him.  “That was an unbelievably awful time for me – first, the awful murder and the investigation, and then my spouse, the one person I loved, I trusted, more than anyone, betrayed me.  I couldn’t– I couldn’t- I’m sorry.”

The tears had begun falling, and at seeing them Hardy sighed and sank down on the chair next to her.

“I know.”  The words sounded trite, but when she remembered Sandbrook, what Tess had done, she realized he really did know, which just made her cry harder.  She sensed him raise his arm, pause, and then slowly lower it.  

Deciding that if things were to change, it would obviously have to come from her, she purposely leaned into his side, resting her head on his shoulder.  Tentatively, he raised his arm again, wrapping it around her, pulling her slightly closer.

They sat there together for what seemed like ages, Miller sniffling into his shoulder as he gently ran his fingers through her hair.  Eventually, she sat up, dug a tissue from her pocket, and blew her nose.

“Do you think – I mean, can we maybe start over?”  She asked, blinking up at him.

“Start over?”  There was a catch in his voice, and a strange look in his eye.

“Yes.  As friends, I mean.  Sort of, re-set the settings, so to speak?”  He stared at her for so long, she started to worry.  When she worried, she babbled.  “If, I mean, friendship is still something you want.  It may not be.  And that’s okay, really.  I understand. I suppose I was awful to you, back then. Not sure I’d forgive me, if I was you.”

He looked away, staring down at his hands in front of him, silent.  Her heart fell.

“Look, Hardy, just, be honest with me, yeah?  We’ve been through so much together…  Do you want to be friends?”

He didn’t look up.

“Honestly?”

“Total, complete, absolute, no-matter-how-painful honesty.  I promise, I will respect whatever you say, and won’t let things be awkward at work or anything.”  Her heart beat almost painfully, waiting for his response.

He sighed, glanced up at her, then ran his hands over his face and through his hair.

“Fine.  Just… promise me this, yeah?  Don’t laugh, and if it’s not the same for you, just… tell me you’ll forget all about it yeah?”

She nodded vigorously, waiting with bated breath.

“No.  No, I don’t want friendship from you.”  She felt as though she’d been slapped, but managed to hold it together as he turned sad, lonely eyes on her.

“The truth is, Miller, I want more.  I want so much more.”

The shoe dropped, and her head spun.  Surely he wasn’t implying what she thought he was…

“You mean – romantically?” She can’t believe the words, but the look in his eye confirmed her guess.

“Yeah.”  He let out a deep breath, as though he’d been holding it for years.  Maybe he had.

“Oh my God.”  She muttered, leaning forward, resting her hands in her head.  “Oh, my, God.”

“Yeah.”  Hardy repeated dryly.

“So, just to be clear, are you saying you’re in lo-”

“Yes.”  He cut her off before she could finish the word.  “Yeah, I am.  Have been for ages.”

“Right.”  She looked out toward the water, trying to process, even though she felt as though the world had shifted ninety degrees.

“Listen, Miller, like I said, we can just forget it, yeah?  Move on, let it go, never speak of it again?  I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable, but you did say total honesty…” He trailed off, watching her watch the surf.

She stood suddenly. “Um, I have to – I’ll be back.” She promised, heading higher on the cliff.  “I just need to think – I’ll be back soon.”  She left him there on his patio, almost running up the path.

-

Ten minutes later he’s reclined on the deck chair, staring at the stars.  She’s been gone long enough that he’s begun to consider different towns he could move Daisy too – hopefully not too far, as he doesn’t want her to lose her friendship with Chloe, but far enough he never has to see Miller again.  At least she didn’t laugh, he thought glumly.

He suddenly sensed another presence, and seeing Miller had returned, he hastily rose.  Stood before her, he promised himself he would accept whatever she decided, even if it involved him packing up Daisy and leaving town this very night.

He didn’t say anything, and couldn’t even bring himself to meet her eyes, merely staring past her towards the bloody ocean he so hated.

When the waiting got to be too much, he looked down at her, and saw tears in her eyes as she bit her lip

Finally, she spoke.

“I have to admit, I never actually considered this – I thought I mostly annoyed you.  I’m not sure how to feel about, well, about how you feel.”

He nodded in acceptance, though he half wished she would just shoot him down now (or just plain shoot him) and get it over with, rather than giving him false hope.

“I think I just need time.” She finished.

“Right.  Sounds fair enough.”  He told her, even managing a weak smile.

“Good.  Though, um, you’re welcome to try to sway me.”  She smiled shyly, tucking a bit of hair behind her ear.

“What?”

“Well, you’ve obviously been thinking about this for a while.  It would only be fair if you shared your thoughts with me, how this happened, when this happened.”

Still confused, he nodded again, opening his mouth to explain all when she held up a hand.

“Not now, but maybe one night this week?  Over dinner, perhaps?”  The smile shifted to a cheeky grin as he understood.

“Miller, are you asking me on a date?”  He rumbled, eyes twinkling.

“Oh, no.”  She quickly denied.  “I’m just saying, if you invited me out, wanted to share your thoughts and all, I’d probably say yes.”

With a start, he realized she was flirting with him.

“Probably?”  He shifted a little closer to her, voice lowering.

“Mmhmm.  Providing I’m not working, of course.”  She teased him.

“Boss is a bit of a hard ass, huh?”  He was well within her personal space now, and rather than minding, she found she liked it.  Where Joe had only been just taller than her, Hardy towered over her; rather than feeling trapped, she felt safe.

She rested her hand over his heart and gave him a coy smile.  “Hard to say – he’s not even asked me out, I’ve certainly never had an opportunity to feel it.”  His eyes widened in surprise as she quickly backed away.

“I’ve got to get home. If you ever decide to make a move, let me know – I’ll clear my calendar.”  With a final flirty smile, she almost skipped down the path to her car, humming to herself.

It’s not what she expected, but as she paused to look back to see him still watching her, she thought it might be just what she needed instead.

God will put you in the right place.  Even if you don’t know it at the time.

[missingk-blog1]

Kavinsky is tired of telling his friends that he doesn't like Ronan, but they know better.

pairing: rovinsky

tags: mentions of alcohol and drugs, I think. Probably a bit of violence too, but it’s quite soft.

I love the idea of the Dream Pack teasing K everytime they can with Ronan. What are friends for if not for embarrasing you with your crush?

“I'm not gay,” Kavinsky repeated for the thousandth time that evening. The whole Dream Pack was gathered in the living room of Kavinsky's mansion, smoking and making some lines. That was what you could call a quiet evening for them. The previous night's party had been huge, and the morning had been hard for K, so it felt suitable. It had been Proko the one that had come out with that subject, and the rest had been just happy to tease the dreamer about it. Kavinsky, however, was not amused.

“You can't deny you have a crush on Lynch,” it was Jiang who replied, looking at him as if he understood that; the boy was good-looking, that much was true, and it was impossible not feeling physically attracted to him. Proko looked at Jiang and nodded in agreement. He knew better than anyone, maybe better than Kavinsky himself, how the boy felt towards Ronan.

“I’m not gay,” he repeated, his voice so calm and steady that it felt true. And it was true, he wasn’t gay, but he wasn’t straight either. He took a drag from the joint he was holding between his fingers and held the smoke. He released it slowly after a few seconds. Kavinsky wouldn’t deny he liked Lynch, but he would always say it was not like that. Every single thing he had told him (every joke, every insult, every pet name) had been to tease him, to make him angry. He was not trying to flirt with him or anything.

“You know, there is this thing called bisexuality. We exist, it’s not a legend,” Swan said while he prepared a line on the table. He kept talking, slowly and clearly, as if he was explaining something to a kid. “You can like both women and men, and that’s ok. It won’t make you less of a man,” he finished. Kavinsky frowned and was about to reply when someone knocked on the main door. Skov looked through the window, as they could see the main entrance from there, and a huge grin appeared on his face when he recognised the black BMW parked in front of the house. “Your boyfriend's here,” he said, turning to K, who just rolled his eyes as he got up from the sofa. “Not his boyfriend yet, just his crush,” added Jiang, trying not to laugh and failing miserably.

“Shut the fuck up,” Kavinsky retorted just as he stood up from the sofa. Before leaving the living room, he shot them a threatening glance. He was pretty sure he knew what Ronan wanted, but he was not going to get it right in that moment. Kavinsky was not in the mood for dreaming. The knocks on the door grew louder and by the time K opened it, Ronan looked ready to throw it down.

“Sorry, baby girl, but the dream factory is closed today,” he greeted the boy, keeping an amused tone that didn’t match his eyes. Yeah, his morning had been hard. Not hard in a I have a hell of a hungover way, but more like I'd have a nightmare that have tried to kill me kind of way. So he’d had enough dreaming for the day. Not that he was going to enlighten Ronan with this information. The boy pushed him aside and got in the house anyway. He looked up and down on Kavinsky, nearly automatically, a small frown plastered on his face. Ronan hated those stupid nicknames, but he had gotten used to them, and they didn’t bother him anymore. As long as it was Kavinsky the one using them, of course.

“Since when are you not up for dreaming? I thought you said you'll never stop doing it,” Ronan answered, hands on his pockets. Kavinsky pushed the door closed and turned to the other boy, his friends' words repeating themselves in his head. I don’t fucking like him like that, he told himself, pursing his lips as he looked up at Ronan.

“Give me a break, man, I’m sick of taking 'bout dreams all the time with you,” he said, annoyance written all over his face. Since Ronan had discovered that he could also dream up stuff, he had started to get interested in K. Kavinsky had been kind of happy about that at first. Then, he got tired of Ronan only reaching for him when he wanted to practice or talk about dreams. As if there was nothing else in the world they could do or talk about.

“And now you need breaks. I didn’t know you were so weak,” Ronan retorted, his face showing no emotion at all, although his body language said he was tense, and maybe a little angry. He had come to Kavinsky’s house with a purpose, and every time he had to reach K for help he felt as if betraying a part of himself. He didn’t want to know what Ganseys would think if he knew that he really needed Kavinsky’s help.

The pack was gathered by the closed door, trying to hear what they were saying. At those last words, Proko clenched his fists and moved to open the door, but Skov stopped him. “That asshole…” he murmured, looking at Skov as if he didn’t understand why he was holding him back. “Leave it to him, K can manage Lynch,” the boy answered, voice calm. Besides, Kavinsky would get really mad if they interviewed in any way. But curiosity won the fear of their friend's anger, and Jiang opened the door slightly to get more information about what was happening between those two.

"You can’t get a fucking car right and I’m the weak one?” K said, his eyes fixed in Ronan’s in a daring way, although it was difficult for the other boy to notice, as he had slid his sunglasses on before opening the door. “I didn’t need a fucking teacher, I figured dreaming out myself. Where does it leave you, faggot?”

Ronan got to K in two long steps and grabbed him by the collar of his tank top. He was so close to him that Ronan could smell the mixture of alcohol and drugs that characterized him. He liked that smell, mainly because it remind him of K every time he catch it, but he was never going to admit that to anyone. Kavinsky put on a sly smile; instead of being angry, he seemed pleased. Why he enjoyed violence so much had something to do with his wicked mind and his extreme way of living. But, with Ronan, he knew nothing bad was actually going to happen, and yet he enjoyed every single bit of it.

“You can rot in hell,” Ronan murmured, although he didn’t move an inch. He didn’t want to. Right in that moment, Ronan wanted either to punch Kavinsky or kiss him until his lips hurt. He had tried to convince himself that he only came to K because he was and experienced dreamer. But that was not all of it, and Ronan wasn’t one to lie, not even to himself. Being with Kavinsky was so intense, that he longed for the adrenaline and the excitement. If Ganseys knew… But he didn’t have to, not just yet. He was a different Ronan when he was with Kavinsky, and that Ronan didn’t care that much about what Gansey may think. “I’m already doing that, man,” K answered, apparently unbothered. They were inches away. K had his eyes fixed in Ronan’s, although everything the other boy could see was his own reflection on the white glasses.

"Can they kiss already?” Jiang asked, looking through the little space the slightly opened door left. The other three boys tried to look too, pushing Jiang aside. “You think? K is still very deep in his I don’t like boys phase,” Skov answered, pursing his lips. The whole pack was dying for K and Ronan to finally liberate that tension that grew between them, but they both were too stubborn to realise about it. “Just looked at them. They either make out or end up in the hospital,” Jiang replied, a mischievous smile appearing in his lips “or both.”

“10 bucks we end up taking them to the hospital,” said Swan, looking at all of them while he reached to his pocket for a bill. “I say they make out,” Proko replied right away. They nodded to each other and then turned their attention back to the slightly opened door. But there was no one there anymore. “Where the fuck are they?” Jiang asked, opening the door a bit more so he could see the whole corridor properly; but they were not there. They had vanished, and there was only one explanation for that. Proko looked at Swan. “You owe me 10 bucks.”

[mbtizone]

Eric Forman (That '70s Show): INTP

Dominant Introverted Thinking [Ti]: Eric always picks up on logical inconsistency and readily points it out when others make mistakes. He does this compulsively, and often at inappropriate moments because he can’t resist a chance to correct others. Eric is a huge sci-fi buff and often defends Star Wars when his friends and family try to point out how unrealistic it is, claiming that certain elements could happen. This is indicative of a personalized logical system. Eric takes in what he is willing to believe and denies what he doesn’t. He’s clearly intelligent, but has no desire to impact his external environment. He thinks for the fun of it, not to apply the knowledge he accumulates. He’s skilled at debating and tends to overthink things. He can sometimes ruin moments because of his need to analyze everything that’s happening. Eric doesn’t typically get hung up on the facts of a situation and tends to be more of an abstract thinker. Sometimes, it’s hard for Eric to be direct and precise when he speaks. He’s not very decisive and tends to go back and forth on things as he acquires new information or considers alternate perspectives (Ti-Ne). He can appear to make a firm decision, only to change his mind shortly after. Eric’s dominant Ti and lower Si often clashes with Red’s high Si and Te, leading to many of their disagreements. He can often be stubborn when he reaches his own conclusions, shutting out other people’s opinions because he values his own rationale and thought process more than other people’s opinions.

Auxiliary Extroverted Intuition [Ne]: It’s fun for Eric to speculate about possibilities. He’s willing to believe in things he can’t see or prove (Ti-Ne) and often becomes so caught up in his ideas that he doesn’t pay attention to his physical environment or what’s going on right in front of him. He has a wild imagination that allows him to describe vivid possible scenarios and fantasies in conversation, which he comes up with quickly and easily. His brain makes many connections, which is evident from his sense of humor. He’s good at coming up with metaphors and relating his experiences (Si) to other things. Eric is extremely talkative and often ends up rambling, much to the annoyance of his father. Although Eric’s Ne is used mainly for his own personal entertainment, he also utilizes it to think of how situations might play out. When he’s trying to decide on a course of action to take, he uses his Ne to come up with a variety of results, both positive and negative. Eric has trouble committing and often second guesses his decisions. He asks Donna to marry him and when Red pressures them to actually get married, he decides he isn’t ready. Then when his wedding day comes, he’s unable to go through with it.

Tertiary Introverted Sensing [Si]: Though Eric is unconventional in a lot of ways, there are certain traditions he does believe in, and feels uncomfortable when they’re threatened. Donna is a feminist and wants to work, but Eric feels that he should be the provider and Donna should take care of the house and be at home with the kids. He feels the need to provide for her and the thought of things being the other way around makes him uneasy. “I’m the man and the man’s the man and that’s just the way it is.” Eric lacks responsibility, discipline, and focus. He’s not really detail-oriented in most situations and can sometimes be careless and forgetful. Eric can easily recall information about ideas or things that interest him. When he enjoys something, he likes to revisit it. He loves watching, talking about, or collecting merchandise from Star Wars. His Ne utilizes his Si in making references, which he employs regularly in his various witticisms.

Inferior Extroverted Feeling [Fe]: Eric is socially awkward and doesn’t really know how to comfort other people. However, he can use people’s emotions against them and be manipulative. For instance, when Donna is planning to move away for school, he realizes that she has become more interested in sex because of how much she’ll miss him when they’re apart, so he plans on her emotions in order to get as much sex as he can. “This could be the last time that you and I…” or “This might be the last time that I…” Eric struggles to keep his mouth shut, even when it might get him in trouble. He can talk about his feelings when he wants to, and when he does, he’s able to articulate them. Eric can be sacrificial, and though he’s adamantly against it at first, puts off college in order to stay home and help out after his father’s heart attack. At times, he can have trouble understanding where other people are coming from or why something upsets them, but, once given some time to reflect, he is able to give sincere apologies. Eric will tell a lie to spare someone’s feelings and avoid an argument. He sees that when Red lies to Kitty to make her happy, it works, but when he tries the same thing with Donna, she gets angry at him (Si-Fe). It works for them, so maybe it will work for him, too. Sometimes, Eric can be a little childish and immature when it comes to his emotions and can become insecure and sensitive when criticized or when he feels others view him as incompetent. Eric often requires external validation from his friends and family to make sure he’s doing the right thing and can become stressed if people disagree with his choices.

Note: I would say that about 85% of the time, I see Eric typed as an INFP (with the other 15% being ISFP), but I don’t see Se, Ni, Fi, or Te in him. I think some of the problem is stereotyping. Eric isn’t focused on school and doesn’t have a mathematical or scientific mind. He also feels more than the stereotypical INTP and lacks detachment. That doesn’t mean he’s not an INTP, though. Not every INTP is robotic, as they’re often portrayed. I know one INTP who is detached and doesn’t really display emotion, and another INTP who is sensitive and has no issues expressing her feelings. There’s no one size fits all description, and functions can manifest differently in different people. Eric’s Ti is displayed through his own subjective rationality and reasoning. He doesn’t typically have strong beliefs about right and wrong or good and bad. He can put his feelings into words when he wants to. He doesn’t really have high moral expectations and doesn’t appear to have a strict value system. Most of the arguments I’ve seen for Fi-dom are very weak and not actually representative of what Fi is. I’m currently doing a rewatch of That ’70s show (it’s what I’ve been throwing on to go to sleep to), and I’m actively looking for signs of Fi/Te. If I find evidence of these functions, I am completely open to retyping him in the future, but for right now, I see more Ti/Fe. And, if anyone who believes him to be an IxFP wants to leave a comment and raise a few points, please do! I’m more than happy to try to look at things from another perspective.

Enneagram: 6w7 Sx/Sp

Quotes:

Red: Kitty, did you look at that list? If I had known what I was coming home to after my heart attack, I would’ve walked straight into that bright light and never looked back. Kitty: Oh come on, it can’t be that bad. [sits down I’ll do it with you. Cause what’s good for the goose, is good for the gander. Eric: Actually Mom, Dad’s the gander. [They stare at him] The male goose. So it would be what’s good for the gander is good for the goose. [sits down] So, [picks up the paper] lets take a gander at what you’re giving up with the gander. [He laughs while Red and Kitty continue to stare at him.] That’s how you do that.

Kitty: Do you have to breathe so much, it’s like a sauna in here Eric: Alright, you heard the lady, no more breathing Kitty: I didn’t tell you not to breathe, I asked you not to breathe as much, there’s a difference Fez: [to Red] For crazy people Red: Hey Ali Baba, close sesame Hyde: Red you missed the exit Red: Oh damn, Eric you’re supposed to be watching the map, what are you doing? Eric: [He holds up the map which he folded into a crown] Making you a crown because you’re king of the road!

Eric: So I told my girlfriend we could go to different schools, everyone does that right? Lisa: My boyfriend and I have been going to different schools for three years and now we love each other more than ever. Eric: And I bet when you get together, it’s like a thunderstorm. Ted: [to Lisa] Hey pretty lady. [She kisses him] Eric: Excuse me, hello? Didn’t you just say you have a boyfriend? Lisa: Yeah but he’s not here Eric: [to Hyde] I told Donna we could go to different schools, if Donna doesn’t hate Marquette, we’re screwed Hyde: Who cares man? I just turned down a half drunk college chick, I’m pretty sure she could do stuff

Eric: Well… did you see that? I told you the truth and we got into a fight. My dad told my mom she’s pleasant, a whopper of a lie, and they’ve been married 150 years. Donna: I don’t care. I want you to tell me the truth all the time. Eric: No, no, you don’t. It’s like when women ask whether or not their outfit makes them look fat. How many men tell them they look fat? Zero. How many women look fat? Not zero.

Donna: [first lines] You know, Eric, I’m really happy with our relationship right now. Eric: Yeah, me too. It’s like we’re way past the broken up and miserable stage and we’re back in the having sex again stage. Yeah, thumbs up from this end, too. Yeah Donna: I’m serious. I mean, we’ve been through a lot, and even though some of it wasn’t exactly fun, I mean, it was worth it, because now we know we can handle anything. And we don’t freak out about the little stuff. Eric: Right like that time we got into that big fight because I ran over your cat Donna: That wasn’t little stuff, I really loved that cat. Eric: Yeah, I know, I meant the cat was little…

Eric: I don’t want to wake up in five years and hate my life. Red: That’s unavoidable.

Jackie Burkhart: Eric, if it makes you feel any better, Michael was really bad his first time, too. Eric: Oh, that’s supposed to make me feel better? Jackie Burkhart: Doesn’t it? Eric: [realizes it does] Yeah, a little. Thanks, Jackie.

Eric: Look at our poor little tough guy, hurting others to ease his own pain. Kelso: I think someone needs a tickle. Fez: No, I’m okay. Eric: Look, Hyde, we’re your best friends and we’re here for you, okay. We’re not gonna let you go through this thing alone. Hyde: Would you shut up, Forman? I’m fine. Kelso: You know what, Eric’s right. We’re gonna do what guys do for each other. Fez: A massage train? Eric: No. [to Hyde] But we did get you a present. [cut to the circle] Hyde: It’s a great present, guys. I especially like the teeny white paper you all wrapped it in. Kelso: Yeah, the only thing that could ruin today is if the Russians set off that Russian death ray that’s pointed at the White House. No, seriously. No, I read about it in a magazine. Eric: Kelso, that was The Flash, and it is a comic book. Fez: I love comic books. I wish I had thought bubbles… You see anything? Hyde: Kelso, the Russians don’t have a death ray, but they do have a stupid ray and it’s pointed directly at you. Kelso: No, the Russians do have a death ray, and I’ll prove it. [dials on a phone] Operator, give me the White House. Eric: Kelso, I’m not allowed to make long distance calls without permission. Kelso: Oh, awesome, I’m on hold and they’re playing that theme song to the President. Eric: Hail to the Chief. Kelso: Thank you, Eric, but I’m trying to enjoy the President’s theme song.

Eric: You love Marquette and I’ve made my peace with that so we’re just gonna go to different colleges, drift away and make out with guys named Ted because these are things we can’t change, you’re gonna get menopause and I’m gonna die! Donna: Eric, I’m not going to Marquette. Eric: Oh. Well, never mind. Donna: I loved it there and was so excited to tell you about it but the drive took forever and I realized that’s how far we would be from each other all the time so I’m going to UW. Eric: Oh, Donna. Donna: Eric isn’t this great. We’re going to be together all the time. Eric: You’re not going to get all clingy. Donna: [playfully] Shut up! Eric: I mean, I’m going to be a big college man. Donna: Uh-huh. Eric: I’m gonna need my space.

Eric Forman (That ’70s Show): INTP was originally published on MBTI Zone

[bleedingcoffee42]

Absent- Part 27

I forgot how much I like playing with Kimblee.  I am sorry this got so long. I am sorry this whole story is so long.   

prev parts

xxxxxxx

“What toll?” Riza countered.  “I'm not an alchemist and I certainly didn't perform human transmutation to get here so exactly why do I owe you anything?”

“The only reason you have any answers here is because you are more of an alchemist than you realize.  Do you honestly think that seeing yourself as the Flame Alchemist was really that much of a fabrication?”  Kimblee asked.  “The truth is that you are more terrified of what you would have done had you been in Mustang's position during Ishval than what you did sniping from the rooftops.   Admit it, you have some serious Daddy issues. You pride yourself on your abilities and had you had flame alchemy at your fingertips instead of a trigger you would have been so much worse than him.   That drive to be the best cadet, the best marksman; it all stemmed from that deep rooted desire to get the accolades and attention your starved for growing up.   It felt good to be recognized didn't it?   What is Truth other than your own hubris, your damned pride.   Without pride, who would dare play God and try to make a human?  Or control fire?   Or deliver the kill shot to a complete stranger, deeming yourself the superior in race, morals and life in general.  So deep down you fear becoming me, because you felt that thrill when you hit your mark and it scared you more than anything.”

Riza finally sank into the chair he pulled out for her and stared at him as he flashed his palms, the array tattooed on them and she felt a pulse of some energy go across her back... her own array tattooed into her skin. Then he wove his fingers together, rested his elbows on the table and set his chin on his hands in display of satisfaction and waited on her.   To be that good in any field you had to be drive had to have some degree of pride in what you did.   Perhaps she always did question how she could be good at something that was only practically used for killing.  “So you're Truth because you will tell me exactly what I don't want to hear.”

“That's what you expect of me.”  He shrugged.   “Am I not the embodiment of pride? So proud of my superiority over mankind and immunity toward the most crippling weakness humans have, sympathy?”

“I believe it's called sociopathy.”

He chuckled.  “This isn't about me.   You're the one pouring over books about psychology and dreams and damned near anything under the sun to conquer what haunts you.   It would all go away if you just accepted that it was the choice you made and that deep down you are proud of yourself for thriving in a contest of survival of the fittest.  Do I look like I lose any sleep over it?  You're more terrified over what you did that you never thought you could do, than the actual lives you took.  Truth”

“That's not...”

“Do you remember their faces or just the ones that you were forced to look at?   I remember each and every one of them.  So the question is, do you really value the lives you took or just hate yourself for your inability to stand up and do the right thing?”

“I did my duty.”   Riza snapped.   God they were nothing alike and his sick satisfaction at remembering faces was hardly appreciating the lives he took other than for his own pleasure!  Why did it have to be him here, judging her?  Anyone else.....

“A lovely word, duty.  All encompassing in it's ability to deflect blame and decision making onto a superior, patriotism or some other entity.”  Kimblee put his hands on the table and smirked.  “Consider if you will that the reason you are here with me, beyond those doors of Truth and Knowledge behind you, is because you have been lying to yourself and that is what your subconscious is screaming at you to see each time it replays your war flashbacks.  Not what someone made you do, nobody made you do anything.  You could have missed, but you didn't. You couldn't, because you were an excellent marksman and they made an exception to the rule for you and let a cadet go to war.   You were the only woman in the sniper unit.  You felt special and you did your job so well to keep that feeling of pride no matter the cost.   Just like Flame, we all knew he was the youngest ever commissioned and that he had something far deadlier than we could ever compete with and he was even a good military man...top of his class.   He was the perfect soldier.”

Riza leaned forward, she was tired of Kimblee having a podium to preach at her for all her failings.   She was tired of hearing him talk down to her, as if he had that right.  “Something you can't comprehend, being a sociopath, is that being human is about having the full array of emotions and a conscience.   Having sinful ideas is completely different than acting upon them.  It's about having a concept of morality that guides your thoughts at all.   Selflessness versus selfishness.   There are sins and virtues.   There are also situations were there is no win and each path is terribly wrong but lack of action even worse. Decisions, life..being human is not done without pain or error but it's how you deal with it afterwards that defines you.   I make no excuses for my actions during the war, but Roy and I emerged from that with a greater purpose and dedicated our lives to making a chance to benefit the entire country.  What did you do?  Saw the end of your fun and decide to test how far you could go before they took you down?  Turned on your own?  You quit because life after the war didn't look appealing.”

“If you only aim to be better than me, that's a pretty low standard.” Kimblee smiled.

“What is the point of all this? Confession?  Acceptance?” Riza shoved the stack of books at him. “Tell me how to get out of here.”

Kimblee opened a book.   “Shell shock.  This one is an old edition, I gave them something else to write about after Ishval.  You should have seen that first wave of soldiers come through town after the first time the Alchemist Corps went through.  What a sight!   Body parts and blood splattered everywhere.   Buildings collapsed on people.  Charred and melted bodies.   Even some of the veterans, the ones who had been there for six years finally saw something that shut them down that day.  Flame was sloppy.   He hadn't honed his craft yet.   Left most of his victims alive, just melted and oozing....too damaged to scream out in agony but you knew they were suffering.   I...humanely destroyed his little mistakes.”

Riza ground her teeth.  She was about to say something but he laughed and continued.

“Imagine if it had been you, a hunter.   Someone who understands how to properly put down their kill.” Kimblee flipped a few pages and rolled his eyes at some 'ye olde medical drawings' that looked like something out of a torture manual.  People 'helping' could be more cruel than anything he ever did.  Idiots.   Humane thing to do was kill, anything else was just fulfilling a selfish desire to cling to a life spent or prove their ability to elude death with medicine.   Fools.  “You could have been so much better as the Flame Alchemist from the beginning.   Focused, deadly, beautiful.  Fully realized potential from the start.”

She could feel herself react to that, the idea that she could have been in Roy's place.  She didn't want the title or his job, but if she could have saved him....

“Remember 'Naive Happy Roy' is dead and laying in a morgue in East City right now.   Brain liquefied and dripping out his orifices.  So happy and carefree he walked right into the fucking serial killer's hand and never put up a fight.” Kimblee clucked his tongue.   “Think instead of you, Major Riza Hawkeye the Flame Alchemist.  You're walking down the streets of some miserable little desert town, screams and explosions everywhere and you with your fingers on the trigger....of your Daddy's little family secret ready to help those poor people meet their God.”

He said it in the most mocking tone and she never wanted to shoot him more than this moment.

“Deny it.  Go ahead.  Tell me, Truth, that you wouldn't have done your duty and put down your prey as humanely as possible.    A gunshot to the head would have been better, but you have only your gloves and this wealth of knowledge passed down to you by a father you loathed.   Here is your chance Flame, stand here and show that worthless father of yours how capable you always were and how you are even better than him.  Able to not only use his life's work but also use it better than his apprentice could because you have the training of a skilled hunter.  You don't need people to accept you, you grew up in isolation with a cold emotionless parent.  You were the perfect candidate.  You know how to most effectively dispatch an enemy and you do it without hesitation because you have honed your skills to pull the trigger immediately when the shot presents itself.   Feel that swell of pride as you walk past men like Alex Armstrong quivering on the ground and too weak to carry on with his duty.   Society's elite, he had everything you didn't have and yet here he is unable to do the most basic duty with his prized alchemy!   You can feel those stares now, not as a pariah but as a God.   They look at you with awe, respect and fear.  You're one of the best and this war will end because of your contributions. The entire country knows your name and you are the hero.  How does it feel?”

“I would have given anything to save Roy.”  She replied honestly.   “I would have walked his path for him if it meant he could be spared, but....being that weapon and seeing exactly why there could never be another Flame Alchemist because of what I did in the name of duty.   I would have had to have been destroyed.   I would have never seen past the end of the war, I...could not live with this heavy of a burden more or less used it to fuel a passion to change things.   I hate what it did to him, what I did to him, but this entire alternative reality has lead me to see that it really is equivalent exchange.   There is nothing that powerful that does not come without a cost.   This guilt, reliving my mistakes every time I close my eyes, it reminds me of why it's so important to accomplish our goals.   So perhaps I would have been worse, but in this scenario the lives lost would have been for nothing because the Flame Alchemist would not have been compelled to change this country.”

“Interesting take.”  Kimblee said.  “I suppose I am biased.   I always thought it was a shame Flame Alchemy rested in the hands of one so weak, so sympathetic....so conflicted.”

“That's why I chose him, because he understands the weight of his curse.” She said.   “Even in our darkest hour he was weighted down by the guilt not the power.”

“So we have explored your alternatives of being the Flame Alchemist in both aspects: One as a hermit and the other as a participant.   Each one ends with death, though you have attributed a higher value on a man you deem capable of changing the country despite the quantity of nameless Ishvalians that are on the other side of the scale.”   Kimblee held out his hands, palms up, symbolically showing the weights and them being on an even plane.  “Interesting.”

“I think I forgot how much I hated talking with you until now.”  Riza said.   Fireside chats with Kimblee were always unsolicited and condescending, but typically short lived due to someone trying to strangle or hit him.   If this was about dredging up old war memories bravo subconscious, however it was helping her get seriously pissed off at this whole scenario and start fighting back instead of being whipped around in the storm.   “Perhaps I do fear becoming like you which is not a compliment in any way, it's simply just applying a more personal face to the devil.”

“How rude.”  He said and frowned.

“We were naive, we didn't quite grasp the weight of the job we were signing up for.  We wanted to be soldiers to protect and be part of something good.  We thought there was a real enemy to be defeated. How...how does anyone comprehend something so horrible as war without seeing it?  How did we know our government was orchestrating a genocide?   How would anyone know about the corruption without being immersed in it?   You were right, killing was part of the job I signed up for when I put on this uniform.  To defend our country, to defend our way of life.   I had my eyes opened in Ishval, but my oath and belief in my duty have not changed.  I will help put a man in power who will not declare way on an entire race.   He will end the military's hold one every fiber of this country's  livelihood.   I will kill again to protect my country and those I love.   I wear this uniform still and believe in it.   Has my perception changed, yes, but for the better even if it is a darker vision of it all.   What you don't understand is that some of us made the selfless decision to serve our country and that does not change even if it means changing the country so that future generations do not endure what we did.”

“That, my dear, is called treason not loyalty.”  Kimblee replied.  

“Like you're one to lecture on the definition of either.” Riza countered coldly.

[pamphletstoinspire]

THE HOLY GOSPEL OF JESUS CHRIST, ACCORDING TO ST. MATTHEW from the Latin Vulgate Bible

Chapter 26 - Part 7:

33. And Peter answering, said to him: Though all men shall be scandalized in thee, I will never be scandalized.

Ver. 33. I will never be. After our Saviour had assured them of the prediction of the prophet, that the flock should be dispersed, and had confirmed it himself, still Peter denied it; and the more Christ assured him of his weakness, the more, according to St. Luke, (chap. xxii.) did Peter affirm that he would not deny him. Whence this confidence in Peter? who when our Lord had said, that one of them would betray him, feared for himself, and though conscious of nothing, still prevailed on St. John to put the question to our Saviour. Freed now from that solicitude and anxiety, which had so much oppressed him concerning the treason of Judas, he began to trust to himself. Let us learn from this fall of the chief of the apostles, ever to assent with the greatest sincerity to the words of God. Let us believe him in every possible circumstance, though it may appear to our senses and understanding contradictory; for, the word of God can never be made void; but our senses may easily be deceived. When, therefore, he says, this is my body, let us without any the least hesitation immediately believe and contemplate the mystery with the eyes of our understanding. (St. John Chrysostom, hom. lxxxiii.)

34. Jesus said to him: Amen, I say to thee, that in this night, before the cock crow, thou wilt deny me thrice.

Ver. 34. Before the cock crow. St. Mark is more particular; before the cock crow twice, thou shalt deny me thrice. The sense seems to be, before the time that the cocks crow the second time, towards the morning. (Witham)

35. Peter saith to him: Though I should die with thee, I will not deny thee. And in like manner said all the disciples.

Ver. 35. No explanation given.

36. Then Jesus came with them to a country place, which is called Gethsemani; and he said to his disciples: Sit you here, till I go yonder, and pray.

Christ's prayer and agony in the garden. He is seized, and carried before Annas and Caiphas.

Ver. 36. Gethsemani. St. John tells us it was a garden, whither Jesus was accustomed to go with his disciples, which Judas knew. St. Luke says, he went according to his custom to the mount of Olives; i.e. where he used to spend part of the nights in prayer. (Witham)

37. And taking with him Peter, and the two sons of Zebedee, he began to grow sorrowful and to be sad.

Ver. 37. He began to grow sorrowful. The Greek signifies to be dispirited. St. Mark, to be in a consternation with fear: to wit, when all he was to undergo was represented to him, as well as the ingratitude of sinners. (Witham)

38. Then he saith to them: My soul is sorrowful, even unto death: stay you here, and watch with me.

Ver. 38. My soul is sorrowful. The cause of our Lord's grief was not the fear of suffering; since he took upon himself human nature, to suffer and to die for us; but the cause of his grief was the unhappy state of Judas, the scandal his disciples would take at his passion, the reprobation of the Jewish nation, and the destruction of the miserable Jerusalem. Our Lord also suffered himself to be thus dejected, to convince the world of the truth and reality of his human nature. (St. Jerome)

39. And going a little further, he fell upon his face, praying, and saying: My Father, if it be possible, let this chalice pass from me. Nevertheless, not as I will, but as thou wilt.

Ver. 39. Going a little further. St. Luke says, about a stone's cast, kneeling down; or as here in Matthew, prostrating himself. He did both. --- Father, if it is possible. Which is the same, says St. Augustine, as if he said, if thou wilt, let this cup of sufferings pass from me. --- Nevertheless not as I will, but as thou wilt. He that was God and man, had both a divine and a human will. He was pleased to let us know what he naturally feared, as man, and in the sensitive part of his soul; yet shews his human will had nothing contrary to his divine will, by presently adding, but not my will, but thine be done. Here, as related by St. Luke, followed his bloody sweat. (Luke xxii. 43[44?].) (Witham) --- These words are a source of instruction for all Christians. These words inflame the breasts of confessors; the same also crown the fortitude of the martyrs. For, who could overcome the hatred of the world, the assaults of temptations, and the terrors of persecutors, unless Christ in all, and for all, had said to his eternal Father: Nevertheless, not as I will, but as thou willest. Let all the children of the Church then understand well these words, that when calamities violently beat upon us, we may with resignation exclaim: nevertheless, not as I will, but, &c. (St. Leo the great)

40. And he cometh to his disciples, and findeth them asleep, and he saith to Peter: What? could you not watch one hour with me?

Ver. 40. No explanation given.

41. Watch ye and pray that ye enter not into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.

Ver. 41. Watch ye and pray, &c. We watch by being intent on good works, and by being solicitous that no perverse doctrine seize our hearts. Thus we must first watch, and then pray. (Origen) --- The spirit indeed is willing, &c. This is addressed to the disciples; that they were not to trust too much to their own courage; for although their spirit was ready to undergo any temptation, their bodies were still so weak, that they would fail, unless strengthened by prayer. (St. Hilary)

42. Again, he went the second time, and prayed, saying: My Father, if this chalice can not pass away, but I must drink it, thy will be done.

Ver. 42. No explanation given.

43. And he cometh again, and findeth them asleep: for their eyes were heavy.

Ver. 43. No explanation given.

44. And leaving them, he went away again: and he prayed the third time, saying the same words.

Ver. 44. He prayed the third time, to teach us perseverance in our prayers. Of these particulars Christ might inform his disciples afterwards; or they were revealed to them. (Witham) --- Our Lord prayed three different times, to obtain of his heavenly Father pardon for our past sins, defence against our present evils, and security against our future misfortunes; and that we might learn to address ourselves in prayer to the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. (Rabanus)

45. Then he cometh to his disciples, and saith to them: Sleep on now, and take your rest: behold, the hour is at hand, and the Son of man shall be betrayed into the hands of sinners.

Ver. 45. Sleep on now. These were words spoken, as it were, ironically. The hour is come, that I am to be betrayed. (Witham) --- It seems more probable that he then permitted them to sleep for some time, compassionating their weakness, and leaving them undisturbed. For, it is not very probable that after the agony he had just been in, he should address his disciples ironically; so that the words in the next verse, Rise, let us go, seem to have been spoken after he had permitted them to enjoy a short repose. (Jansenius) --- St. Augustine also supposes that after our Lord said, sleep ye now, he was silent for some time, and only then added, it is enough, the hour is come.

46. Rise, let us go: behold he is at hand that will betray me.

Ver. 46. No explanation given.

47. As he yet spoke, behold Judas, one of the twelve came, and with him a great multitude with swords and clubs, sent from the chief priests and the ancients of the people.

Ver. 47. No explanation given.

[ivy72376]

RIGHT AGING - July 13, 2020

A generation ago, during youth camps and young people’s bible studies, one of the most famous study topics was the second chapter of the Apostle Paul’s letter to Titus.  It’s like a bucket of cold water to the heat and passion of youthful energy and a sobering reprimand of a young person’s recklessness. In it we were taught how to act properly as one grows in life and in the faith.  This is not to say that as a believer, one acts ‘de-numero’ or just act prim-and-proper while in church, because more than appearing holy in front of brethren should have been the person with more integrity when in the company of the outside world with people who do not share our faith.  Sadly, not a few of my peers, and even I myself, did not follow it strictly and to the letter.  It is a tall order indeed, but I realized that as one grows older, each of these instructions become easier with experience, with failures, with pain and suffering, with persecution, harassment, insults and heartbreak, and with humiliation and comeuppance.

 The first verse sets the seriousness of the whole theme.  The great apostle said that Titus, even as a young believer, should speak of these things that are sound doctrine, or good and worthy teachings.

 The second verse starts with the traditional heads of the family and community: the mature or aged men, who should be sober (not a drunkard), grave (seriously living life and not taking his responsibilities for granted), temperate (have self-control), sound in faith (strong, not wavering or doubtful or weak in his relationship with the Lord), in charity (generous, not stingy or selfish or a miser), in patience (not driven by pride or greed or have poor anger management issues).  They are to set as prime examples of the home, the church and the community.

 The third to the fifth verses lay down the responsibilities of women, how aged women should behave, and what they should teach the younger women.  Older women (like a certain secular song’s lyrics, “act your age, mama…not your shoe size…”) should act according to their age, in behavior be holy and decent, not false accusers or gossipers (time to break free from the stereotypical ‘old wives’ who tell tales), not given to too much wine (like aged men, have self-control), teachers of good things.  Young women also must be taught to be sober, to love their husband and children (if they have), but in all cases to be discreet, chaste (holding their femininity and womanhood with respect and honor), keepers of home (even if they may not be good cooks but at least, they should try to keep a clean and peaceful home), good, obedient to their own husbands (if they have, otherwise, they have to depend on themselves, be independent, think for themselves and learn how to defend themselves well, and still act properly and decently).

 The next three verses are directed to young men, who should also be sober-minded, should be an example of good works to others, should not be corrupt, be serious and sincere, of sound and mindful speech, so that they may not be ashamed by what careless or irresponsible words they may say.

 The succeeding couple of verses are for servants or workers, who must be lawfully obedient to their masters or employers, not rebelling or complaining unreasonably, not purloining or abusing the trust of those who employ them, so that the name of the Lord may not be brought to shame, should a believer be known as somebody who cannot be trusted even with little or no supervision.

 A common thread of all these teachings on good manners and right conduct is the attitude of sobriety, or in other words, self-control and mindfulness.  Indeed, as a believer, one must always be mindful of one’s thoughts and motivations, words and actions because it shows our true character.  We can crack jokes, but there are jokes that are appropriate, fun and wholesome, without hitting below the belt or insulting or making fun of somebody, especially that person’s perceived weaknesses or insecurities or inadequacies.  There is a proper and modest way to dress and act by oneself, so that people will not look at one’s physical attributes or whether one has reached a certain standard of beauty or price, but which shows the inner self, whether that person is filled with wisdom, grace, substance and inner peace.

 The last five verses of the chapter speaks of the reason why a person must act rightly, or in good character. Verse 11 says that “the grace of GOD that brings salvation has appeared to all men.”  Regardless of our gender, regardless of our age, our race, skin color, educational attainments, status in life, we are all recipients of GOD’s mercy and favor.  But this grace can only be manifested and made full use of in our lives if, according to verse 12, “we must deny ungodliness and worldly lusts (the fleeting passions and fashions of this world), that we live soberly (that word again), righteously and godly, in this present world.”

 Humanity has proven time and again that in cases of crisis and tragedy, our evil and baser nature oftentimes rise to the surface.  But this shouldn’t be, because such cases can only happen for one who do not have hope, those who do not know what greater things are in store for us when we persevere.

 And as GOD’s people we should keep in mind that, as in verses 13 and 14, we are to be constantly “looking for that blessed hope, and the glorious appearing of the great GOD and our Savior Jesus Christ; Who gave Himself for us, that He might redeem us from all iniquity, and purify unto Himself a peculiar people, zealous of good works.”

 My generation was so engrossed in trying to be unique, but most of us fail in that aspect because I realized that by our own efforts, we tend to go the easy way and still come out as part of a nameless herd with a crowd and mob mentality, subject to the sway of every new thing that might not even be beneficial for us.  For one to truly stand out, is for one to live soberly, mindfully, and step back from the surge of the crowd of life, which goes to nobody really knows where.

 I realize that each step of life’s journey, one must act his or her proper age, so there can be no confusion about our identities and our roles in the family, in society, and in GOD’s greater plan for us.  These may be difficult to accept for many, because it entails responsibility and a little bit deeper thinking, but the last verse of the chapter should give us some encouragement, when the apostle said, “Speak of these things, and exhort, and rebuke with all authority.  Let no man despise you.”

 In youth, we can speak and we can make mistakes, and my former teacher said the beauty is that we can get away with it.  But it comes with a responsibility of learning, so that we don’t make the same mistakes again.  In old age, we are expected to know more, to understand more, to act more properly and decently, to be more credible and trustworthy, to be more financially and emotionally responsible and accountable, and to be more peace-making rather than argumentative.  Indeed, these are things we need to seriously work out for, the things that necessarily come with right aging.

[fayecallasdatingblog]

What is Gaslighting? 11 Red Flag Signs He’s Manipulating You

You keep hearing this term “gaslighting,” and you’re wondering about it. People have even told you that you’re being gaslit. So…what IS gaslighting?

In a Nutshell: What is Gaslighting?

What is gaslighting, and are you a victim?

Essentially, with gaslighting, a person, usually a romantic partner, denies the validity of things you know you’re experiencing.

“You’re imagining things. You didn’t see me with another woman.”

“I never said that!”

“You’re being paranoid.”

Usually, the people gaslighting their partners are sociopaths or narcissists. It’s about power: by making you feel like you’re wrong or going crazy, you rely on that person more. He feels like he has more control over you.

Cheaters gaslight. So do men who emotionally or physically abuse women. But not all men who gaslight cheat or abuse women, so don’t let that be the only sign that you look for. I’ll tell you some really good signals to watch out for in a minute.

Gaslighting is dangerous because this person who you trust causes you to lose touch with reality. You start to question everything and doubt yourself. You may lose self-confidence and feel like you’ll never find a relationship better than this.

I’m here to tell you that if you’re being gaslit, you absolutely deserve and can find a better man who respects and loves you. This man isn’t it!

The origin of the term “gaslighting” actually comes from a 1938 play, as well as the adapted movie in 1944, called “Gas Light.”  In it, a husband manipulates his wife to make her think she’s actually losing her sanity so he can commit her to a mental institution and steal her inheritance. If you’re living this reality, this might be a horror movie for you!

Types of Gaslighting

There are several ways a man can gaslight you.

There are several types of gaslighting, so when you ask, “what is gaslighting,” you may get several answers depending on who you ask. Each is valid, and you may actually experience more than one type.

Withholding

“What are you talking about? That makes no sense. Why are you trying to turn this situation around on me?”

He pretends he doesn’t understand you or refuses to listen. The more you talk to him, the more confused you get because he’s acting like you’re confusing him!

Countering

“That’s not how it happened. You never remember things correctly.”

In this type of gaslighting, he tells you that your memory of a situation or event is wrong. He makes you doubt what you know you remember.

Blocking/Diverting

“Who put that idea into your head? I’m sick of talking about this.”

If he changes the subject or tells you that you’re imagining things, he’s gaslighting you.

Trivializing

“Why are you so sensitive? This isn’t worth getting upset over.”

This guy belittles your feelings, especially when they involve anger or frustration toward him. He makes you feel like you’re overreacting…but I’m telling you: you probably aren’t.

Forgetting/Denial

“You’re totally making that up. I never said that!”

He flat out denies what you know happened. Maybe you know he swore he’d pay you for the concert tickets you bought and now he’s telling you that you said you’d pay for them.

11 Signs Your Partner is Gaslighting You

via GIPHY

Now that I’ve answered the question “what is gaslighting” a bit (though we could talk about it for hours!), let’s look at a few signs you can keep an eye out for to figure out if the guy you’re dating is gaslighting you.

1. He Tells You That You’re Imagining Things

Okay, so you know you saw the guy you’re dating kiss another woman at a party. But he’s telling you that you’re crazy. He says he was just leaning over to tell her something, and you thought he was kissing her.

Uh-uh. Not only did you see it with your own two eyes, but your gut is also screaming that this guy is lying.

2. He Says You’re Overreacting

Every time you get upset about something (and that seems to be happening more and more as you’re dating this guy), he tells you that you’re making way too big a deal out of it.

Like the time he stood you up and you waited at the restaurant for an hour. He didn’t think that was a big deal and doesn’t get why you’re fuming.

Let me just say that, whether this guy is gaslighting you or not, you are entitled to your feelings. If he pisses you off, you can be pissed off. And you can tell him how you feel. The fact that he’s uncomfortable with your anger is not your problem.

3. Your Confidence is Dwindling

You used to consider yourself a fairly confident woman, but now you question everything you say or do. You may not even realize that the man you’re with is the cause.

Craig Malkin, a lecturer at Harvard Medical School and author of the book Rethinking Narcissism: The Secret to Recognizing and Coping with Narcissists, says that gaslighting is “an extremely dangerous form of emotional abuse because it undermines your self-confidence.”

You have to ask yourself: which would you rather have, your self-confidence or a man that makes you feel like crap?

4. He Always Wants the Upper Hand

In your past relationships, you were the one with a little more power (it’s normal for there to be a slight imbalance in every relationship), so it’s a bit surprising to you that in this relationship, he’s got it. And he fights to have that upper hand.

Whether it’s him picking where you eat every single time (a girl can only eat so much Thai food), having the last say in every argument, or vetoing your choice of movie, you feel like your opinion doesn’t matter. And you’re right. Because if he’s getting his way, he’s happy.

5. He Makes You Feel Not Good Enough

“I’m the best thing that will ever happen to you. You’d be a fool to leave.”

The fact that this man feels the need to tell you that means that he doesn’t think that you’d believe it otherwise. I mean, you’d know if he was the best thing ever, right? And the fact that he’s trying to make you think you’ll never find better just goes with the fact that he wants you under his thumb.

He may even tell you that you’re not pretty or smart enough for another man, and that he’s doing you a favor by staying with you.

Say whaaaaat??

This is unacceptable. A true partner lifts you up and makes you feel incredible. That, in turn, makes you happy to be with him…no threat needed.

6. He Seems Like Two Different People

Maybe the reason you’re Googling “what is gaslighting” right now is because when he’s great, he’s great. But when he’s terrible…that’s when you think you might need to leave him.

A gaslighter (as well as a sociopath or narcissist) is really good at the whole Jekyll and Hyde routine. He’ll woo you with flowers…and then tell you that you’re crazy. He strings you along just enough that you want to stay, hoping the good version will come out more.

Realize that the good side of him is an act and that the darker side is his true self.

7. You Feel Confused When You’re With Him

I’ve worked with women who describe dating a gaslighter like being on a carousel. Everything is spinning around until they’re dizzy and don’t know what way is up when they talk to this man. You might start a conversation about how he never spends time at your place and then the conversation ends with him criticizing your financial habits. WTF?

He’s great at deflecting criticism directed toward him, which can make for a confusing conversation.

8. You Find Yourself Apologizing a LOT

Part of that whole carousel thing happens when you start out upset about something he’s done and then ending up apologizing for something you’ve done. He’s adept at turning around an argument so that you feel guilty and at fault…and forget about whatever it is that you were mad about.

Now look, I’m not saying you’re faultless in every argument. But look back over your relationship: has he ever apologized to you for any of his shortcomings? I’m willing to bet he hasn’t…or not often and sincerely.

9. You’re Not Happy But Feel Like You Can’t Leave

He’s making you feel unworthy.

Whether they’ve used the term gaslighting or not, your friends have been telling you for a while that this guy is bad news. They see how he treats you and they see how unhappy you are. And you know they’re right…only you can’t bring yourself to end the relationship.

Why? Likely because he’s made you feel like you’ll be even more miserable without him. Maybe he talks about how there are a ton of skeevy guys on dating apps or how, because you’re not 20 anymore, you’ll have trouble finding a quality man.

Realize that this is his messaging, not yours. He has an ulterior motive for making you feel like you shouldn’t leave him. I have nothing to gain by telling you the truth: you can and will find someone who treats you right. You don’t have to put up with this emotional abuse.

10. He Turns Things Around on You

Maybe he doesn’t criticize you…unless you’re expressing your frustration with him. All of a sudden, you’re full of flaws and have committed any number of mistakes in this relationship.

Realize that this is a defense mechanism. He can’t accept that he’s done anything wrong at all, and so emotionally pushes back on you and pours out every little grievance he has about you.

The best thing you can do is not absorb his criticism. You know your areas of weakness in a relationship, and certainly, you should work on them. But don’t let him tell you how awful you are…because it isn’t true.

11. He Says You Don’t Trust Him

This one is especially true for cheaters who gaslight. Let’s say you found out that he cheated, but you decide to stay. Of course, whenever anything suspicious comes up (a woman calls asking for him without identifying herself; you find a pair of women’s sunglasses in his car), he makes a big stink about how you don’t trust him. If you can’t trust him, why are you even with him?? He ends up making you apologize and assure him that yes, you do trust him, and you must have misunderstood that pair of panties you found in his bed!

You either trust him or you don’t. He probably is right that you don’t…but you have good reason not to, so don’t let him move you away from evidence that he can’t be trusted.

What to Do If He’s Gaslighting You

Feeling trapped? It’s up to you to change the situation.

Okay, so we’ve answered “what is gaslighting,” and we’ve looked at 11 signs that the man you’re dating is, in fact, gaslighting you. The big question is: what are you going to do about it? Depending on how long you’ve been with this guy, it may not be so simple to just walk away. So let’s look at some easier steps you can take before it comes to that.

Realize That You’re Not Crazy

If you find yourself wondering fairly frequently, “am I crazy??” I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume that you’re not. People that are mentally unbalanced aren’t usually aware of it. Especially if you’ve only wondered this as long as you’ve been dating this man.

If you feel grounded in reality with every other person in your life, then you’re okay. If you don’t confuse facts or get things wrong with your friends and family, then clearly it’s this guy causing the problems.

So take a deep breath. You’re not crazy. You’re totally okay…and about to get more okay as you deal with this stressful situation.

Write Down Conversations

The quickest way to nip an argument in the bud where he’s telling you that you remembered something wrong is to have written evidence. If he says he’ll do something, take a quick note in your phone. Put the date and time he said it, and what he said. Heck, record him saying it! See how he weasels out of that one!

Then when he starts to tell you that you’re wrong, pull out your notes.

Don’t Engage in an Argument

This type of person seems to thrive on arguing, so your best course of action is not to engage him in it. He gets a high from putting you down and telling you all the things you’re doing wrong. If you don’t engage, he has no fodder.

Understand That He Isn’t the Right Guy for You

By now, I feel like you know this. You are an incredible woman and worthy of attracting a man who values your opinion and never tries to squash you. There may have been good qualities about this guy initially, but now he’s different. You can’t go back to the way things were (if they ever really were good), so it’s best if you can let go of the idea that things will improve.

Know That You WILL Be Better Off Without Him

I know that dating (especially for those in your 40s or later) is no picnic sometimes. I know that you might feel like staying in this relationship is better than the alternative. But that’s just because you can’t see what’s coming up for you. And I know for a fact that even better things are in your future!

Quite honestly, wouldn’t you rather be on your own with no one criticizing you or making you feel insane? I think you would.

Conclusion:

What you do now is up to you, but my suggestion is that you break up with this man and focus on rebuilding your self-confidence. Know that out there is a great man who would love to treat you right.

Let me hear from you in the comments: do you think you’re being gaslit? What signs is he showing that he’s gaslighting you?

Jumpstart your next move in finding true love. Sign up for my exclusive training that will help you attract the right man who will commit to you without making you feel terrible.

The post What is Gaslighting? 11 Red Flag Signs He’s Manipulating You appeared first on Sexy Confidence.

from Meet Positives SM Feed http://bit.ly/2RLxBR4 via IFTTT

[travisandersondatingblog]

What is Gaslighting? 11 Red Flag Signs He’s Manipulating You

You keep hearing this term “gaslighting,” and you’re wondering about it. People have even told you that you’re being gaslit. So…what IS gaslighting?

In a Nutshell: What is Gaslighting?

What is gaslighting, and are you a victim?

Essentially, with gaslighting, a person, usually a romantic partner, denies the validity of things you know you’re experiencing.

“You’re imagining things. You didn’t see me with another woman.”

“I never said that!”

“You’re being paranoid.”

Usually, the people gaslighting their partners are sociopaths or narcissists. It’s about power: by making you feel like you’re wrong or going crazy, you rely on that person more. He feels like he has more control over you.

Cheaters gaslight. So do men who emotionally or physically abuse women. But not all men who gaslight cheat or abuse women, so don’t let that be the only sign that you look for. I’ll tell you some really good signals to watch out for in a minute.

Gaslighting is dangerous because this person who you trust causes you to lose touch with reality. You start to question everything and doubt yourself. You may lose self-confidence and feel like you’ll never find a relationship better than this.

I’m here to tell you that if you’re being gaslit, you absolutely deserve and can find a better man who respects and loves you. This man isn’t it!

The origin of the term “gaslighting” actually comes from a 1938 play, as well as the adapted movie in 1944, called “Gas Light.”  In it, a husband manipulates his wife to make her think she’s actually losing her sanity so he can commit her to a mental institution and steal her inheritance. If you’re living this reality, this might be a horror movie for you!

Types of Gaslighting

There are several ways a man can gaslight you.

There are several types of gaslighting, so when you ask, “what is gaslighting,” you may get several answers depending on who you ask. Each is valid, and you may actually experience more than one type.

Withholding

“What are you talking about? That makes no sense. Why are you trying to turn this situation around on me?”

He pretends he doesn’t understand you or refuses to listen. The more you talk to him, the more confused you get because he’s acting like you’re confusing him!

Countering

“That’s not how it happened. You never remember things correctly.”

In this type of gaslighting, he tells you that your memory of a situation or event is wrong. He makes you doubt what you know you remember.

Blocking/Diverting

“Who put that idea into your head? I’m sick of talking about this.”

If he changes the subject or tells you that you’re imagining things, he’s gaslighting you.

Trivializing

“Why are you so sensitive? This isn’t worth getting upset over.”

This guy belittles your feelings, especially when they involve anger or frustration toward him. He makes you feel like you’re overreacting…but I’m telling you: you probably aren’t.

Forgetting/Denial

“You’re totally making that up. I never said that!”

He flat out denies what you know happened. Maybe you know he swore he’d pay you for the concert tickets you bought and now he’s telling you that you said you’d pay for them.

11 Signs Your Partner is Gaslighting You

via GIPHY

Now that I’ve answered the question “what is gaslighting” a bit (though we could talk about it for hours!), let’s look at a few signs you can keep an eye out for to figure out if the guy you’re dating is gaslighting you.

1. He Tells You That You’re Imagining Things

Okay, so you know you saw the guy you’re dating kiss another woman at a party. But he’s telling you that you’re crazy. He says he was just leaning over to tell her something, and you thought he was kissing her.

Uh-uh. Not only did you see it with your own two eyes, but your gut is also screaming that this guy is lying.

2. He Says You’re Overreacting

Every time you get upset about something (and that seems to be happening more and more as you’re dating this guy), he tells you that you’re making way too big a deal out of it.

Like the time he stood you up and you waited at the restaurant for an hour. He didn’t think that was a big deal and doesn’t get why you’re fuming.

Let me just say that, whether this guy is gaslighting you or not, you are entitled to your feelings. If he pisses you off, you can be pissed off. And you can tell him how you feel. The fact that he’s uncomfortable with your anger is not your problem.

3. Your Confidence is Dwindling

You used to consider yourself a fairly confident woman, but now you question everything you say or do. You may not even realize that the man you’re with is the cause.

Craig Malkin, a lecturer at Harvard Medical School and author of the book Rethinking Narcissism: The Secret to Recognizing and Coping with Narcissists, says that gaslighting is “an extremely dangerous form of emotional abuse because it undermines your self-confidence.”

You have to ask yourself: which would you rather have, your self-confidence or a man that makes you feel like crap?

4. He Always Wants the Upper Hand

In your past relationships, you were the one with a little more power (it’s normal for there to be a slight imbalance in every relationship), so it’s a bit surprising to you that in this relationship, he’s got it. And he fights to have that upper hand.

Whether it’s him picking where you eat every single time (a girl can only eat so much Thai food), having the last say in every argument, or vetoing your choice of movie, you feel like your opinion doesn’t matter. And you’re right. Because if he’s getting his way, he’s happy.

5. He Makes You Feel Not Good Enough

“I’m the best thing that will ever happen to you. You’d be a fool to leave.”

The fact that this man feels the need to tell you that means that he doesn’t think that you’d believe it otherwise. I mean, you’d know if he was the best thing ever, right? And the fact that he’s trying to make you think you’ll never find better just goes with the fact that he wants you under his thumb.

He may even tell you that you’re not pretty or smart enough for another man, and that he’s doing you a favor by staying with you.

Say whaaaaat??

This is unacceptable. A true partner lifts you up and makes you feel incredible. That, in turn, makes you happy to be with him…no threat needed.

6. He Seems Like Two Different People

Maybe the reason you’re Googling “what is gaslighting” right now is because when he’s great, he’s great. But when he’s terrible…that’s when you think you might need to leave him.

A gaslighter (as well as a sociopath or narcissist) is really good at the whole Jekyll and Hyde routine. He’ll woo you with flowers…and then tell you that you’re crazy. He strings you along just enough that you want to stay, hoping the good version will come out more.

Realize that the good side of him is an act and that the darker side is his true self.

7. You Feel Confused When You’re With Him

I’ve worked with women who describe dating a gaslighter like being on a carousel. Everything is spinning around until they’re dizzy and don’t know what way is up when they talk to this man. You might start a conversation about how he never spends time at your place and then the conversation ends with him criticizing your financial habits. WTF?

He’s great at deflecting criticism directed toward him, which can make for a confusing conversation.

8. You Find Yourself Apologizing a LOT

Part of that whole carousel thing happens when you start out upset about something he’s done and then ending up apologizing for something you’ve done. He’s adept at turning around an argument so that you feel guilty and at fault…and forget about whatever it is that you were mad about.

Now look, I’m not saying you’re faultless in every argument. But look back over your relationship: has he ever apologized to you for any of his shortcomings? I’m willing to bet he hasn’t…or not often and sincerely.

9. You’re Not Happy But Feel Like You Can’t Leave

He’s making you feel unworthy.

Whether they’ve used the term gaslighting or not, your friends have been telling you for a while that this guy is bad news. They see how he treats you and they see how unhappy you are. And you know they’re right…only you can’t bring yourself to end the relationship.

Why? Likely because he’s made you feel like you’ll be even more miserable without him. Maybe he talks about how there are a ton of skeevy guys on dating apps or how, because you’re not 20 anymore, you’ll have trouble finding a quality man.

Realize that this is his messaging, not yours. He has an ulterior motive for making you feel like you shouldn’t leave him. I have nothing to gain by telling you the truth: you can and will find someone who treats you right. You don’t have to put up with this emotional abuse.

10. He Turns Things Around on You

Maybe he doesn’t criticize you…unless you’re expressing your frustration with him. All of a sudden, you’re full of flaws and have committed any number of mistakes in this relationship.

Realize that this is a defense mechanism. He can’t accept that he’s done anything wrong at all, and so emotionally pushes back on you and pours out every little grievance he has about you.

The best thing you can do is not absorb his criticism. You know your areas of weakness in a relationship, and certainly, you should work on them. But don’t let him tell you how awful you are…because it isn’t true.

11. He Says You Don’t Trust Him

This one is especially true for cheaters who gaslight. Let’s say you found out that he cheated, but you decide to stay. Of course, whenever anything suspicious comes up (a woman calls asking for him without identifying herself; you find a pair of women’s sunglasses in his car), he makes a big stink about how you don’t trust him. If you can’t trust him, why are you even with him?? He ends up making you apologize and assure him that yes, you do trust him, and you must have misunderstood that pair of panties you found in his bed!

You either trust him or you don’t. He probably is right that you don’t…but you have good reason not to, so don’t let him move you away from evidence that he can’t be trusted.

What to Do If He’s Gaslighting You

Feeling trapped? It’s up to you to change the situation.

Okay, so we’ve answered “what is gaslighting,” and we’ve looked at 11 signs that the man you’re dating is, in fact, gaslighting you. The big question is: what are you going to do about it? Depending on how long you’ve been with this guy, it may not be so simple to just walk away. So let’s look at some easier steps you can take before it comes to that.

Realize That You’re Not Crazy

If you find yourself wondering fairly frequently, “am I crazy??” I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume that you’re not. People that are mentally unbalanced aren’t usually aware of it. Especially if you’ve only wondered this as long as you’ve been dating this man.

If you feel grounded in reality with every other person in your life, then you’re okay. If you don’t confuse facts or get things wrong with your friends and family, then clearly it’s this guy causing the problems.

So take a deep breath. You’re not crazy. You’re totally okay…and about to get more okay as you deal with this stressful situation.

Write Down Conversations

The quickest way to nip an argument in the bud where he’s telling you that you remembered something wrong is to have written evidence. If he says he’ll do something, take a quick note in your phone. Put the date and time he said it, and what he said. Heck, record him saying it! See how he weasels out of that one!

Then when he starts to tell you that you’re wrong, pull out your notes.

Don’t Engage in an Argument

This type of person seems to thrive on arguing, so your best course of action is not to engage him in it. He gets a high from putting you down and telling you all the things you’re doing wrong. If you don’t engage, he has no fodder.

Understand That He Isn’t the Right Guy for You

By now, I feel like you know this. You are an incredible woman and worthy of attracting a man who values your opinion and never tries to squash you. There may have been good qualities about this guy initially, but now he’s different. You can’t go back to the way things were (if they ever really were good), so it’s best if you can let go of the idea that things will improve.

Know That You WILL Be Better Off Without Him

I know that dating (especially for those in your 40s or later) is no picnic sometimes. I know that you might feel like staying in this relationship is better than the alternative. But that’s just because you can’t see what’s coming up for you. And I know for a fact that even better things are in your future!

Quite honestly, wouldn’t you rather be on your own with no one criticizing you or making you feel insane? I think you would.

Conclusion:

What you do now is up to you, but my suggestion is that you break up with this man and focus on rebuilding your self-confidence. Know that out there is a great man who would love to treat you right.

Let me hear from you in the comments: do you think you’re being gaslit? What signs is he showing that he’s gaslighting you?

Jumpstart your next move in finding true love. Sign up for my exclusive training that will help you attract the right man who will commit to you without making you feel terrible.

The post What is Gaslighting? 11 Red Flag Signs He’s Manipulating You appeared first on Sexy Confidence.

from Meet Positives SM Feed 3 http://bit.ly/2RLxBR4 via IFTTT

[daniel-murrieta]

A Talk I Gave on Forgiveness

Talk – The Struggles of Forgiveness

Brothers and sisters, good afternoon.  It’s been about three years since I’ve given a talk; so, forgive me if I break.  I should let you know that we are moving soon.  We found a beautiful home in Sandy.  On the 18th, we’ll be leaving here; so, this will be my first and last talk in this ward.  Thank you for every bit of your kindness, your friendship, your diligence.  

I seem to have a bad habit for missing talent shows that I sign up for.  So, I’m going to share a little talent that I have here.  And I like to write poetry.  I plan on publishing a book and this one specifically, it’s called hatred.  It’s a little bit strong; so, forgive me there as well.  You see, it goes like this:  

___________________

Poem - Hatred  

Before I was born     There was peace     The earth remained pure Everything was still

September 11, 2001, terror brought me life     December 7, 1941, the world saw my genocide     33ad, I wrought the crucifixion of Christ     Before Cain, I raged when angels fell from heaven    

In my wake, worlds will collapse     Mankind has already begun the process     For all who meld me to their hearts     Are chained to my relentless torment

Behold, your sentiments I will shackle in misery As rancor consumes your soul The mindless vengeance that you seek Is the animosity that keeps me burning

No mortal has lived without me living in them       Few have overcome my power For I live where love has died In many, I will live eternally        

Until there is love         There will be no rest         When I am gone         There will be peace        

___________________

I’m really afraid of that hatred.  We all know that Satan fell from heaven and is miserable because of that hate.  But there was a time in my life where I feel to share where I felt consumed by that hatred.  

I have a really bad weakness.  I don’t know about you guys, but I have the weakness of regret.  If I miss something, if I don’t do something, and regret it, it just eats me up a lot of times.  And there was a time in my life where I seemed to recollect every single possible regret that I could think of.  And it kept eating me up.  It would be things from embarrassments, to things that I wished would have happened and didn’t happen; things I missed in life.  It would be times when people offended me, or it would even be times when I offended other people and I just felt like ‘what did I do?’  And I would battle it out with my own mind.  I would just try and try to say “no, it’s in the past.  It’s fine.  It’s ok.”  But I couldn’t get away.  I didn’t know what to do.  And it always felt like this dark presence was following me everywhere I went.  And one day, I had a Joseph Smith moment.  I prayed and I said “Heavenly Father, please, free me from this torment.”  And I went the entire day without a response, and by nighttime, I was just exhausted.  I was just drained.  And my wife, Geysi, she came out of nowhere and said, “let’s do FHE”.  And we’re pretty infrequent about our FHE; so, it came kind of unexpected.  And she said “let’s just do it real quick”.  And we went over there, and as she’s speaking, she speaks about forgiveness.  And I don’t remember what scripture she said, but it woke me up as if a man from his sickbed just jumping out.  And she went onto other things, but I knew that that was what God wanted me to hear.  And so, as we went on, I prayed in my mind and said, “Heavenly Father, I want a baptism of the mind.  I want to forgive everything and everyone in my life, of all wrong, of everything.”  After I prayed, I felt a clarity in the mind.  I felt this whirlwind just stop.  It felt like the enemy himself was silent: didn’t have any power over me.  And it felt that I could finally be happy again.  

I’m very thankful to Father in heaven for His mercy, for His kindness, for His love to provide answers to us in our deepest and darkest times.  

There’s a few things that I feel to share, to clarify a little bit further upon forgiveness.  The primary motivator for forgiveness shouldn’t be, “K, this guy is pretty good here, but not, he’s just OK here.”  Or “you know what, I don’t like this guy very much, but whatever, it’s fine.”  The primary motivator of forgiveness should be charity.  And charity is the pure love of Christ.  And purity in it’s word means to be free from impurities.  Free from the impurity of pride, from selfishness.  Free from the impurity of dislike.  It’s supposed to be coupled with humility, with meekness, with longsuffering, with patience, understanding, and the belief that every person in this world has a possibility of returning to Heavenly Father to live forever in His presence.  And that’s why God sent His son.  He knew that as soon as Jesus Christ came to this earth; He knew that people would be spitting on Him.  He knew that He (Jesus) would preach to crowds that would just leave Him by the masses.  And that He would be rejected and nailed in six different places.  But He sent Him still because “He so loved the world, that He sent His only begotten Son, that” knowing that we imperfectly could still be saved by His grace, “that all who believe in Him might not perish, but have everlasting life.”  What reason did Heavenly Father have beyond love, beyond hope in our potential, that we could return?  I mean, yes He gets glory from this, but His glory is the love.  And surely, there are times, when I was a kid, I mean sometimes you see these kids with there iPads and their games.  I was that guy.  I was on my Gameboy all the time.  I would, in Primary, I would drive the teachers nuts.  I would hide in the car for an hour and a half before going to Primary.  I would hide the closets, in the cultural hall.  I would go anywhere, but Primary.  And now they let me teach it!

That entire time, I felt Heavenly Father’s hand with me.  Did I deserve it?  Did I seek it?  No, but it was there.  And I knew that small things in my life were gradually bringing me back to His fold, until I read the Book of Mormon and finally returned.  Is it not possible that those who hurt us, who offend us in our life, that God also has a plan for them in place, and that if we are willing we can be a part of that plan?  

Another motivator is that we should be obedient to our Heavenly Father.  I’m not going to take too much time on this, but read two scriptures here.  

It says, “I say unto you, that ye ought to forgive one another; for he that forgiveth not his brother his trespasses standeth condemned before the Lord; for there remaineth in him the greater sin.  I, the Lord, will forgive whom I will forgive, but of you it is required to forgive all men” (D&C 64:9-10).   

“For if ye forgive men their trespasses, your Heavenly Father will also forgive you;  But if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses” (Matthew 6:14-15). 

There’s one last topic that really confuses me sometimes.  To what point do you forgive?  Jesus Christ said that you forgive ‘till seven times seventy.  Now, if you could think about yourself toward God, how many times do you sin daily?  I don’t know about you, but at least it’s more than one for me.  And so that number runs out pretty quick for some of us.  And the closer you are to somebody, the more annoying they can be sometimes.  The more you run into their problems.  The more you see their sins that Heavenly Father sees all the time already.  But you’re facing it sometimes more than seven times seventy.  What do you do?  

I’d like to remember this one thing that Christ said: “resist not evil, but whosoever shall smite thee on the right cheek, turn to him the other also” (quote).  “Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you; 

“That ye may be the children of your Father which is in heaven: for he maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust” (Matthew 5: 44-45). 

Now those words don’t mean that we let evil live or go on forever.  It has to stop.  But by that same principle, Gandhi freed an entire nation from slavery, from oppression.  Martin Luther King Jr. was able to claim many of the rights for his people that they had been denied.  And I love this quote from Martin Luther King Jr.  The more you read into this man, the more you see how patient, how forgiving he was.  It’s incredible.  And he says, “darkness cannot drive out darkness, only light can do that.  Hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that.”

Now, there does come an exception eventually.  Nephi and his family are perfect examples.  Nephi was a righteous young man who just wanted to follow God and keep His commandments.  And throughout his entire life, his brothers were the opposite.  They loved the world and they just wanted to do whatever they could.  And so in this process of going back for plates and going back and forth, you know Laman and Lemuel, they laid the rod.  They smacked him with a stick.  And there appeared an angel, and they stopped.  And later on as they go back to get wives and they come back, they’re like “you know, we still want to go back to the city.”  And Nephi says, “No, no way dude.  We got to stay here.  We got to go where the Lord guides us.”  And they again tied him to a tree to be left to die to the beasts.  And Nephi prays.  The strength of the Lord comes to him that the bands are loosed, and he speaks to them again.  As they’re about to lay their hands on him to kill him, the wives, or the ladies plead, and the brothers stop.  And they begged for his forgiveness.  And Nephi said, “I did frankly forgive them all that they did.”  And Nephi had a very quick spirit to forgive, but they continued.  Later on, as he was commanded to build a boat, they mocked him again.  As he preached to them another time, they tried to lay hands on him to throw him into the sea.  And as they were on that same boat, that same boat that he built by the instruction of God, they again tied him to the ship, as if to kill him.  And they only let him loose as soon as the power of God came.  And when finally, Lehi died, the father who had spoken with such tender love to his children, they again tried to kill him, and for what?  Because they wanted to be the teachers, the rulers of the people.  They didn’t want anyone above them.  They did it for pride.  And Nephi, at this time, after turning his cheek time after time, after being forgiving, after loving them more and more, as much as he could, was finally commanded to flee.  And the commandment wasn’t any longer to turn the cheek.  The commandment was now to defend your children, your families, even to bloodshed.  Now I don’t know about you, but I don’t have somebody chasing me to death yet; so, I’m still in the commandment to forgive and love as much as I can.  And I feel to say I love you guys.  I feel to say thank you again for everything you guys do, for everything you’ve done for me.  And I know as we follow the example of Nephi and forgiving others and doing everything we can to reconcile ourselves with our brothers and sisters, we will turn alright.  Maybe, maybe it’s possible that we won’t have the miracle that Gandhi, or that we won’t have the miracle that Martin Luther King had, but we will have the miracle of changing ourselves, of being ready to see our Heavenly Father for forgiving our brothers and sisters.  And I pray that charity can live with each of us.  

Do I have more time?  OK!  I’ve got another poem.  This one I’ve shared previously, but not in this ward; so, I’m going to share another time.  I’m actually going to share this one here [instead].  So, I’d like to remind everyone that Jesus Christ is the ultimate source of all forgiveness.  We don’t necessarily deserve to be forgiven.  We’re forgiven because of love.  And this one is called “At the Auction House”.  

_________________

Poem - At the Auction House      

At the auction house,       men and women, youthful         and full of age,         gather to buy treasures,           pleasures, and delicacies,         all at the cost           of their souls.        

Pounding the gavel,   the auctioneer           grins with black teeth         and eyes burning red.           Lucifer has commenced   the bidding.        

All at once, they scramble   for their lusts   and extend their hands   anxiously to receive           as he chains their feet.           Most don't even last long   before he drags them           mercilessly into the dark.        

I, too, looked to his gifts   with envy       and sold my soul for a craving.       Only when I opened my eyes           did I realize I was so blind.        

Then, my cries had pierced the dark,         "God, have mercy on me!"           And I wept all alone   in the bitter night           until I was called back   to the auction room.          

Slamming the pulpit, Satan     roared and wailed aloud, crying   "What price will be paid           for the wretch that           sold himself     to me!"        

A Man, shining in white,         stood up amidst the sinners.           Showing nothing save scars in His hands,           He said, "The price           has already been paid."          

At His word, the chains were loosed           and Satan's roars grew deaf.           Tears of remorse       dried from my cheeks       as the Man reached down           and I heard His voice.          

“Oh, child of heaven,         does thou not recall           that even if a man   should gain the whole world,       what would it profit him       if he lost his soul?       Learn ye this day,   thy soul is of greater worth       than all the world         combined.      

"And because nothing   in this world         can equal the   worth of thy soul,       the cost of thy redemption   could not come   by worldly things;       rather, it has come         by the precious blood           that I've given for thee.          

“Rise up           and follow me.”          

Taken by His hand           to rise from the     gulf of misery,           within my broken heart,       I find these words to say:      

No longer will I labor           as a slave in darkness;   rather, I will be   a child of the Light.        

Eternally indebted to   His grace, the payment I now give is to preach   the miracle of life,   of redemption,   of everlasting joy,   that are renewed   by Him who ransomed me.   And I shall ever pay it joyfully.  

____________________

Brothers and sisters, thank you for this time.  I’m really happy to be a part of this Church.  I’m really happy to learn from souls that are not taught channel CW or anywhere else.  I love God, and I love you all.  In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.